with the unwelcome
little animal in Peace's arms, she suggested that the child take it home
and put it in a box until the owner could be found. This Peace was only
too delighted to do, for as no one in the neighborhood seemed to know
where it came from or whose it was, she had fond hopes that no one would
inquire for it, and that she might keep it for a pet.

So she joyfully carried it back to the parsonage, and burst in upon the
little household with the jumbled explanation, "Here's a stone I found
monkeying up a tree and Miss Curtis asked me to bring it home and box it
till the owner comes around after it. And if he doesn't come, I can keep
it myself, can't I, Saint John? He jumped right into my arms and won't
let go, but just shakes and shakes 'sif he was still getting hit by
those rocks. I pulled Thad DePugh 'most bald headed, and didn't get
scolded a bit hardly. She made him go to the office, though, and I hope
he gets licked the way I couldn't do but wanted to."

"Here, here," laughed the minister, looking much bewildered at the
twisted story. "Just say that again, please, and say it straight. I
haven't the faintest idea yet how you got hold of that little reptile or
what Thad's hair had to do with it."

"It isn't a reptile!" Peace indignantly denied. "It's a monkey which hid
in the linden tree at the schoolhouse to get away from the boys and they
stoned it."

Little by little the story was untangled, while the monkey still
tenaciously clung to Peace's neck and wide-eyed Glen hung onto her
skirts.

"So you think there is a chance of your keeping him for a pet?" said the
preacher, when at length the tale was ended.

"Can't I?"

"You are hoping too much, little girl. If this animal belongs to an
organ-grinder, he will be around for him very soon, you may be sure. It
is the monkey's antics that bring in the pennies. He can't afford to
lose such a valuable. Besides, Peace, the poor little thing is almost
dead now."

"Oh, Saint John, he is only scared. S'posing you were a monkey and
hateful boys stoned you, wouldn't you tremble and shake?"

"I don't doubt it, girlie, but it isn't only fear that ails that animal.
Look here at his back--just a solid mass of sores. Elizabeth, isn't that
shocking? This is surely a case for the Humane Society. It is a shame to
let the creature live, suffering as it must be suffering from those
cruel wounds. His owner ought to be jailed."

"Oh, Saint John, you aren't going to ki