"What monkey?" demanded the principal, glancing swiftly around the yard for any evidence of such a creature.
A dozen hands pointed toward the linden tree, and one small voice piped, "He's up there!"
"A real monkey?"
"Yes, dressed up in hand-organ pants," Peace explained, scrambling to her feet and peering up among the thick leaves for a glimpse of the frightened animal, which had ceased its wild chattering and sat huddled close against the tree trunk almost within reach. "See it? Poor little Jocko, I won't hurt you!" She stretched out her hands at the same moment that unknowingly she had spoken its name, and to the intense amazement of teachers and pupils, the tiny, trembling creature unhesitatingly dropped upon her shoulder, threw its claw-like arms about her neck and hid its face in her curls.
"Whose monkey is it?" gently asked Miss Curtis, breaking the silence which fell upon the group watching the strange sight.
"I never saw it before," Peace answered.
"But you called it by name," chorused the children, crowding closer about her.
"That was just a guess. There's a story in our reader about Jocko, and I happened to think of it. I didn't know it was this monkey's name."
"How odd!" murmured the primary teacher.
"She's the queerest child I ever saw," confided Miss Peyton; but the principal had seen the janitor approaching the open door to ring the last bell, and being at loss to know what to do with the unwelcome little animal in Peace's arms, she suggested that the child take it home and put it in a box until the owner could be found. This Peace was only too delighted to do, for as no one in the neighborhood seemed to know where it came from or whose it was, she had fond hopes that no one would inquire for it, and that she might keep it for a pet.