"I do not think I will ever come in this house again," said Jack indignantly, as he strode out of the room, with his rubber boots tucked under his arm, and the belt of his little ulster flying out behind him.
After a supper of bread and milk, with never a taste of cake or jam, Morris was put to bed a whole hour earlier than his bedtime. At first he thought he would lie awake all night; but he must have changed his mind about that, for he fell asleep in two minutes, and he found affairs in a much happier state when he woke.
It chanced the next morning that Morris's sister, Lou, stood braiding her hair in front of the window, instead of the looking-glass, so instead of seeing another blue-eyed Lou gazing back at her, she looked right through it, and saw—what do you think?—a live monkey sitting astride the fence in the yard below, and staring about. Lou ran to her mother's door.
"O mamma!" she cried. "Look out the back window, quick, quick!"
Mrs. Bell stepped to the window, and then ran straight into Morris's room.
"O Morris!" she cried. "Mamma knows now that her little boy didn't do it," waking him up from the soundest little nap.
"Didn't do what?" said Morris, rubbing his sleepy eyes.
"Why, all the mischief; a monkey did it, Morris, a monkey."
"A monkey?" cried Morris, for that was enough to wake him right up. Then Mrs. Bell bundled him up in an afghan and carried him to have a look at the sly fellow.
The monkey looked up at Morris and grinned, as much as to say, "Well, didn't I get you in a pretty fix?"