"I guess so," answered Jacko. "I hope we get enough money today. How much do you s'pose an auto costs, Jumpo?"
"Oh, I guess twenty-six or twenty-seven cents. I know they're very expensive. But we can easily earn the money, for if the children give single pennies to a man playing the organ, who has a monkey with him, they'll probably give us double five-cent pieces to see two monkeys, and we'll soon have the twenty-seven cents, or, maybe, even thirty—who knows."
Mr. Kinkytail was very busy in the factory when his two boys came in to see him, and he said they could have a second-hand hand organ that played sort of wheezy-eezy tunes. He was so busy that he didn't even ask them what they wanted it for and they didn't tell him. They just took the organ and started off with it.
"Now we must play the very best tunes, and you must do some of your finest tricks," said Jacko, as they walked along until they came to a row of brick houses. "This will be a good place to begin," said the red monkey boy. "Rich people must live here."
Well, I just wish you could have heard Jacko play that hand organ. Really, he did as well as you could, turning the handle sometimes with his left paw, and sometimes with his right and sometimes with his tail.
"Oh, mamma!" cried a little girl at one window. "Come quick and see two monkeys with a hand organ! And one of them is coming up here. Oh, give me five cents for him!"
"Two monkeys!" exclaimed her mamma. "You must be mistaken. You mean a man with a monkey."
"No, really, mamma!" cried the little girl. "Come and see."
"Sure enough!" spoke her mamma. "Two monkeys. Two monkeys. How very odd. Here is ten cents for them. Aren't they cute?"
By this time Jumpo was climbing up the porch to where the little girl was holding out the money for him and Jacko was grinding the handle of the organ and playing a tune called: "If You Have Your Umbrella You Will Never Mind the Rain."