"You haven't got any money, have you?" said Fanny, insinuatingly.
"No, I haven't," answered Rose.
"I wish you had. I like candy, but mother won't give me any money to buy any. She's real mean."
"Do you call your mother mean?" said Rose, rather shocked.
"Yes, she might give me a penny. Oh, there's a hand-organ. Come, let's go and hear it."
An Italian, with a hand-organ, had taken his station before a house in the next block. There was a half-grown girl with a tambourine in his company, and, best of all, a monkey was perched on the performer's shoulder, with his tail curled up in a ring, and his head covered with a red cap, and his sharp little eyes roving from one to another of the motley group drawn around the organ, keenly watching for the stray pennies which were bestowed as much for the sake of seeing the monkey pick them up, as a compensation for the music, which was of rather an inferior order, even for a hand-organ.
"Let's go and hear the organ," repeated Fanny.
To this proposal Rose made no objection. Children are not critical in music, and the tunes which issued from the wheezy organ had their attraction for her. The monkey was equally attractive, with his queer, brown face, and Rose was very willing to go nearer with her companion.
"Aint he a funny monkey?"