CHAPTER IX

A HOMESICK MONKEY

THE traces of tears, which the boys saw on not only their sisters', but their mother's, cheeks, seemed to take the wind out of their sails, and to check the angry words which were on the point of utterance.

"Then—then you know without our telling," gasped out Rupert.

"Yes," replied Mrs. Snowden, guessing that in some way the lads had heard of their sister's disgrace. "Gertie has made open confession, and now, boys, I have just this to say to you—deal gently with your sister, and 'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.'"

With this, Mrs. Snowden left the room, thinking it best for the children to have it out by themselves.

"How did you know anything about it?" said Marcia wonderingly, for Gertie's grief had rendered the child, for a while, too utterly miserable to ask questions.

"Grey told us at school," replied Kenneth. "His sister Dorothy, saw Gertie hide the book in Ella's desk."

Poor Gertie! Her cup of humiliation was indeed full to the brim.

Somehow, all the storm of reproach which Rupert had intended to launch forth, died away into calm.

"There, Gertie," said he, "do please stop crying. We've had enough of that, and things might be worse."

"I don't see that they could," was Gertie's pathetic answer.

"Oh yes, they might be," cried Kenneth. "You've made a clean breast of it on your own account, and that's something."

"Yes," echoed Rupert, "that's something."

Gertie, after this, made her way upstairs to wash her tearstained face, having learnt a lesson in truth and honour which she was destined to remember all her life long.

* * * *

"Oh, Rupert! A monkey, and all for my very own!"

So cried Marcia on her birthday morning, when Rupert presented his novel gift.

"How I shall love it!" went on the child ecstatically, stroking her treasure as she would have done a kitten.

But Jenny, as the monkey was named, did not approve. Opening wide her mouth, she made a hideous grimace, and snarled in a very unpleasant fashion.

Mrs. Snowden, who was secretly far from pleased at Rupert's choice of a present, looked on anxiously.

"Don't go too near her, darling," said she. "You must make friends with her first."

But Marcia did not seem to know how to tear herself away from her new possession.

Jenny, after receiving sundry pieces of sugar and biscuit from her little mistress's hands, suddenly took quite a fancy to her, a fact which pleased Marcia more than a little.

The clouds which had hovered over both the Cottage and the Hall had now rolled away, and all was peaceful and serene. Mrs. Russell, grieved to the heart at having doubted her grandchild's word, seemed as though she could not do enough for her. It was some time, however, before the old lady could bring herself to forgive Gertie for all the trouble she had caused, but, nevertheless, after a while, she accorded the little girl her gracious pardon, to the relief of everybody concerned.

Ella, on the night of Marcia's birthday party, at which, of course, she was present, was the gayest of the gay. Only one untoward incident occurred throughout the evening, and that was a terrible upset which took place in the kitchen.

Somehow or other the monkey got loose. Scrambling out of her little kennel, which was kept in the scullery for warmth, she managed, by tugging at her chain, to break one of the links. For a while Jenny did not realize her freedom, but when she did, great was her delight. She made her way into the kitchen by leaps and bounds, and finding Mary, the cook, busy arranging a pile of tarts, she forthwith decided to help herself.

At first Mary was too startled to do more than stare at the intruder, then, anger getting the better of her surprise, she gave the monkey a good sound smack. This, Jenny resented by showing her teeth and looking very cross. However, the sight of some bananas on a glass dish, soon soothed her ruffled feelings. She seized hold of one, taking off the skin with extraordinary rapidity, and before Mary could say her nay, the banana had disappeared.

The monkey's impudence fairly upset Mary's temper at last, and she dealt the little creature a succession of slaps, rating her soundly meanwhile. At this moment Nurse made her appearance in the kitchen, and was in time to see Jenny spring upon cook's shoulders and commence tugging at the hair of her head. The woman's shrieks now rent the air, and Mrs. Snowden, with her four children, came rushing in to see what was the matter.

Jenny was in a regular monkey-rage. She tossed cook's cap on the ground, and then held aloft something which looked uncommonly like part of the unfortunate woman's scalp.

In a moment the truth flashed upon the onlookers: the mass of hair, which Jenny was examining most minutely, was Mary's false fringe.

Kenneth and Rupert were nearly doubled up with laughter. Not so Marcia, who could see that cook was really very much upset.

Springing forward, the child called her pet by name. Jenny immediately dropped her ill-gotten treasure, and sprung down towards Marcia, evidently expecting to be rewarded by some dainty. Snatching up a piece of sugar which was on the tea-tray close at hand, she gave it into Jenny's funny little brown paw, and, by dint of management, the monkey, which was very young and very small, was soon recaptured.

From that moment Mary hated the little creature with a hatred too deep for words.

About a week later Marcia discovered her pet lying prone on the floor of the kennel, looking almost as if she were dying.

It so happened that day, that Mrs. Snowden and the three elder children had gone for a drive, to visit some friends who lived at a distance. Nurse also was absent on a day's holiday, so Marcia was feeling rather desolate. The sight of Jenny, who looked on the verge of a collapse, completed her woes and she burst into tears.

"Oh, Mary," she cried, "do come and look at Jenny. I believe she's going to die."

The woman, who was busy with her work, did not even trouble to turn her head. Under her breath she muttered—

"No such luck—I wish the wretched thing would die!"

"Mary,—" poor Marcia's tone was pitiful in its pleading—"please come and see what's the matter."

Then Mary came and peeped into the monkey's cosy little abode.

"It's homesick, I expect," she said indifferently; "sometimes monkeys will pine away in a few hours, for no reason except that."

Mary was drawing very much on her imagination, but how was Marcia to know this?

"Do you think if she were back with the gipsies she would get all right again?"

"Yes, in a couple of minutes," responded Mary, who thought if she could possibly influence Marcia to part with her treasure, she would have done something.

"Will she die, I wonder, unless she goes back?"

Marcia was now terribly in earnest.

"Yes," said cook cheerfully, "she'll be dead before to-morrow, I expect."

This decided Marcia. She would take Jenny back to the gipsy encampment, and that without delay.

But it must be done secretly, for well she knew that neither cook nor Ellen, the housemaid, would let her go if they knew of it.

Wrapping poor Jenny in a piece of flannel, she laid her in a basket, and seizing the first opportunity that came, she left the house by a side door and started off on her way. By the time she had reached Rose Cottage, her arms began to ache terribly. As it chanced, Ella was in the garden planting some primrose roots.

"Marcia, whatever have you got there?" she asked, catching sight of the big basket. "It's my monkey, and she's—she's dying," replied Marcia with a sobbing catch in her voice. "Mary says she's homesick, so I'm taking her back."

"But you can't carry her all that way by yourself," said Ella.

"I shall take the train if I can," was Marcia's answer. Then, a sudden thought striking the little girl, she added: "Oh, Ella, couldn't you come with me? Then we could carry poor Jenny between us."

But Ella shook her head. "I promised Grannie not to leave the house while Molly was out," she said. "She's gone shopping, and Grannie is in London for the day. I've got to look after the fire, you see; that's how it is."

"But your Grannie wouldn't mind if she knew about poor Jenny," pleaded Marcia. "She'll die if I can't get her home, and I don't believe I can do it by myself."

The tears in Marcia's eyes, appealed to Ella's tender little heart, and she began to waver.

"I don't like breaking my promise to Grannie," she said; "but p'raps she wouldn't mind just this once."

"Then you'll come?" This very eagerly.

"Yes, wait a minute while I put on my jacket."