There was a bell over the door that jingled smartly whenever a customer stepped in. This had the effect now to bring Candace waddling in from the little room beyond, which was bedroom, kitchen, and all. She had been dressing a rag doll, and her blue checked apron still had some wisps of wool sticking to it, while she raised her black hands, one of the fingers still retaining its big horn thimble. "Fer de lan's sakes, Miss Polly—an' Mas'r Ben—I'm glad youse home again."
"Oh, Candace," cried Polly, beginning to unburden her woes, when the two were seated on some stools before the counter that ran along one side of the room, "you can't think what trouble we're in."
Candace, just reaching down from a shelf above a jar of peppermint and cinnamon sticks, with which she meant to regale her visitors and celebrate Ben's return, started so she nearly let the big glass jar fall.
"Fer de lan's sakes!" She could get no further as she turned to them a frightened face that seemed to suddenly grow gray.
"Don't scare her, Polly," whispered Ben. "Tell her at once what has happened."
"You know Jocko—"
"Hey?" said Candace, setting the jar down with a thump to rest both shaking hands on the counter.
"Jocko, our monkey. Oh, I forgot, Candace, you don't know about our present that Mr. Cabot gave to us all. Well, it's a monkey—the dearest, yes, he is the dearest thing, even if he has been bad," said Polly, decidedly.
"A monkey!" screamed Candace, lifting both black hands. "An' Mr. Cabot gib you dat did he, fer a present?"
"Yes," said Polly. "Wasn't he kind, Candace?"