"Well, I dunno," said Candace, slowly. "Mr. Cabot's a bery nice gemman—a bery nice gemman indeed. He comes in here an' buys tings offen an' offen. But I should a-thought he'd gib ye a leetle purtier ting dan a monkey. Jus' a grain purtier," she added, unwilling to criticise any more sharply.
"Well, he couldn't have given us anything that was nicer," said Polly, loyal to both Mr. Cabot and to the monkey, "only you see, Jocko didn't know quite how to behave."
"I shouldn't think he did," observed Ben.
"He's only just come from India," said Polly, feeling that a little more explanation was necessary before stating just how bad the monkey had been.
"Whar's dat?" asked Candace, in wonder.
"Oh, the other side of the world," said Polly, hastily; "and so you see—"
"De oder side ob de worl'," cried Candace. "My lan' o' Goshen, how you know dat? Who brung him?"
"Oh, the sailors; he came in a ship, and so you see, perhaps he learned some naughty tricks," said Polly, hoping that now the recital of the bad deeds would be softened enough to state her errand at the shop. "And so he didn't know any better, maybe, than to chew up Jasper's little cushion."
"He ain't gone an' chewed up dat ar pincushion you made Mas'r Jasper?" cried the old woman.
"Yes, he has," said Polly, sorrowfully, her brown head drooping; "that is, he's bitten a hole in one corner, and got it all soiled and wet."