"Now, keep back, the rest of you," commanded Lance. "If anybody can get the little beast, Laura can do it."
"Sure!" chuckled Bobby. "Mother Wit can charm either boys, or monkeys—and right out of the trees!"
But they gave way to Mother Wit and she went alone to the foot of the tree in which Bébé was swinging. He chattered when she came near, and swung upright on the branch. But he did not appear to be much afraid.
Laura found an apple in her pocket, and she offered it to the monkey, calling to him soothingly. Whether his monkeyship was fond of apples, or not, he was curious, and he began to descend the tree slowly.
He was dressed in a part of his odd Neapolitan suit; but it was torn and bedraggled. A cord was fastened to his collar, but it had become frayed and so was broken. His queer, ugly face was wrinkled into an expression of doubt as he approached Laura, and his little eyes snapped greedily. The apple tempted him.
"Come down, Bébé," coaxed Laura.
"Talk Italian to him—he understands that better," giggled Jess.
Bébé chattered angrily.
"Hush!" commanded Lance. "She'll get him yet, if you'll let her alone."
The monkey did seem, when all was quiet, to be about to leap into Laura's arms.