Tom waved his head up and down.
'So, so—now shake hands with your friends:—first rate!'
'Do you mean to take him with you?' asked Décamps.
'Rather!' replied Fan; 'and give him a good time into the bargain.'
'And where are you going?'
'To the Carnival Masked Ball, nothing less! Now then Tom, my friend, come along. We've got a cab outside waiting by the hour.'
As though fully appreciating the force of this argument, Tom trundled down stairs four steps at a time followed by his friend. The driver opened the cab door, and Tom, under Fan's guidance, stepped in as if he had done nothing else all his life.
'My eye! that's a queer sort of a fancy dress,' said cabby; 'anyone might take him for a real bear. Where to, gentlemen?'
'Odéon Theatre,' said Fan.
'Grrrooonnn,' observed Tom.
'All right,' said the cabman. 'Keep your temper. It's a good step from here, but we shall get there all in good time.'
Half an hour later the cab drew up at the door of the theatre. Fan got down first, paid the driver, handed out Tom, took two tickets, and passed in without exciting any special attention.
At the second turn they made round the crush-room people began to follow Fan. The perfection with which the newcomer imitated the walk and movements of the animal whose skin he wore attracted the notice of some lovers of natural history. They pressed closer and closer, and anxious to find out whether he was equally clever in imitating the bear's voice, they began to pull his hairs and prick his ears—'Grrrooonnn,' said Tom.
