It’s just that the nursery is different now than it was.
"They walked down the hall of their soundproofed Happylife Home, which had cost them thirty thousand dollars installed, this house which clothed and fed and rocked them to sleep and played and sang and was good to them. Their approach sensitized a switch somewhere and the nursery light flicked on when they came within ten feet of it. Similarly, behind them, in the halls, lights went on and off as they left them behind, with a soft automaticity."
All right, let’s have a look.
"And here were the lions now, fifteen feet away, so real, so feverishlyand startlingly real that you could feel the prickling fur on your hand, and your mouth was stuffed with the dusty upholstery smell of their head pelts, and the yellow of them was in your eyes like the yellow of an exquisite French tapestry, the yellows of lions and summer grass, and the sound of the matted lion lungs exhaling on the silent noontide, and the smell of meat from the panting, dripping mouths."
"They went to the fuse box together and threw the switch that killed the nursery. The two children were in hysterics. They screamed and pranced and threw things. They yelled and sobbed and swore and jumped at the furniture."
"Mr. and Mrs. George Hadley beat at the door. “Now, don’t be ridiculous, children. It’s time to go. Mr. McClean’ll be here in a minute and…” And then they heard the sounds. The lions on three sides of them, in the yellow veldt grass, padding through the dry straw, rumbling and roaring in their throats."
"Mr. and Mrs. Hadley screamed. And suddenly they realized why those other screams bad soundedfamiliar."
“Well, here I am,” said David McClean in the nursery doorway, “Oh, hello.” He stared at the two children seated in the center of the open glade eating a little picnic lunch. Beyond them was the water hole and the yellow veldt land; above was the hot sun. He began to perspire. “Where are your father and mother?”