“Oh, no, no, no!” barked Billie. “I don’t like her. I hate her.”
“I thought so,” said Mrs. Martin. “Now talk to me some more about her. She teases you, doesn’t she?”
“Oh, wow, wow, wow!” sobbed Billie; “she worries my life out of me.”
Mrs. Martin turned to me, “And you, Dicky-Dick, friend of Billie, you don’t like Nella.”
“I’m scary, scary,” I sang, “and Daisy is scary, scary.”
“I don’t know much about monkeys,” said Mrs. Martin, “but this one seemed very gentle and kind to me, and her owner said she was used to birds and dogs. Come here, Nella.”
The monkey jumped on her lap and began fingering the buttons on her dress.
“Let me hear your side of the story,” said Mrs. Martin. “Do you like this dog and bird?”
Nella began a long story, jabbered out in such a funny way. Billie and I understood it, but Mrs. Martin got only an inkling of it. Nella told of her life in a forest, when she was
a baby monkey, and how cruel men snatched her away from her parents, and she would now like some monkey society. She did not care much for dogs, but had to play with Billie because there was no animal of her own kind to amuse her.