“When the lady returned to the chamber, he was busily engaged in spreading the torn and disfigured remnants to dry.
“He knew well enough he was doing wrong; for, without her speaking to him, he made off quickly and ran home, where he hid himself in the case of the large kitchen clock.
“The servants at once knew he had been in mischief, as this was his place of refuge when he was in disgrace.
“One day he watched the cook while she was preparing some partridges for dinner, and concluded that all birds ought to be so treated. He soon managed to get into the yard, where his mistress kept a few pet bantam fowls, and, after eating their eggs, he secured one of the hens, and began plucking it. The noise of the poor bird called some of the servants to the rescue, when they found the half-plucked creature in such a pitiable condition that they killed it at once. After this, Mr. Monkey was chained up, and soon died.”
Minnie looked very grave after hearing this story, and presently said, “I wonder how old that monkey was.”
“The book does not mention his age, my dear. Why?”
“I was thinking that perhaps, as Jacko grows older, he may learn better; and then I said to myself, ‘That one must have been young.’”
“If a monkey is really inclined to be vicious, he is almost unbearable,” remarked the lady. “His company does not begin to compensate for the trouble he makes. Sometimes he is only cunning, but otherwise mild and tractable.”
“And which, mamma, do you think Jacko is?”
“I have always thought, until lately, that he was one of the better kind; but I have now a good many doubts whether you enjoy her funny tricks enough to compensate cook for all the mischief she does. If I knew any one who wanted a pet monkey, and would treat him kindly, I should be glad to have him go. I should hate to have him killed.”