Another and another plate descended in rapid, nerve-shattering succession.
"I say!" I cried. "This is getting beyond a joke. There won't be a piece of whole china left in the place if we aren't quick. . . . Molly! Go and fetch me that empty potato sack out of the pantry."
She rushed out of the room and Gran'pa and the monkey remained very still, watching each other with malicious intent.
"For goodness sake don't move," I pleaded, "or the brute will only begin again."
Gran'pa controlled himself and presently Molly returned with the sack.
But even now it was not as easy as it looked. Here was the sack, and there was the monkey. How to get the latter into the former was a feat requiring the magic art of conjuring.
I tried honeyed expressions, and even offered a succession of such things as bread, cake, a banana, a handful of walnuts, and an apple. But the monkey didn't show even the mildest interest. It was a most suspicious little beast!
"You and Molly must hold the sack out," I said to Gran'pa. "Like this—with the mouth wide open! Now I'll scrape him into it."
The old man and Molly caught hold of opposite sides of the sack and gently tiptoed their way to the dresser, whilst I picked up the coal shovel and mounted the chair.
"Now," I whispered. "Get right underneath him. . . . Ready?"