"I have a fellow-feeling for him," answered Mr. Kelly, and went on with his moaning.
"Why, you—you miserable upstart!" exclaimed Pwit-Pwit, ruffling up his feathers in indignation.
The sparrow would have said more but for the sudden change in Mr. Kelly's manner. The monkey had come back to the front of his cage, and was touching the side of his head with the forefinger of his right hand.
"What are you up to now?" he demanded.
"Saluting my unfortunate distant relation," said Mr. Kelly, who then went on moaning and weeping worse than before.
For a moment the sparrow's indignation was such that he seemed to be deprived of speech. He looked at Mr. Kelly, and then at the little Limping Boy, and then at the monkey again. Then he ruffled up the feathers of his neck angrily, and said:
"Do you mean to say that you believe yourself to be related to this boy, who will grow into a man some day?"
"That's the tradition in our family," said Mr. Kelly, "and you doubtless know that tradition is the basis of all history. Besides, that's what a very celebrated man once said in a lecture at the theater where I acted, and he had me on the stage with him for an illustration—so he said. Any one can see that there isn't much difference between a monkey and a man, except the clothes. Look for yourself."