At last, with great apparent reluctance, the monkey consented, grumbling sulkily at the unnecessary trouble he was being put to.
When they got back to the tree, he climbed up in a great hurry, calling out, “Wait there, Papa, my friend, while I get my heart, and we’ll start off properly next time.”
When he had got well up among the branches, he sat down and kept quite still.
After waiting what he considered a reasonable length of time, the shark called, “Come along, Keema!” But Keema just kept still and said nothing.
In a little while he called again: “Oh, Keema! let’s be going.”
At this the monkey poked his head out from among the upper branches and asked, in great surprise, “Going? Where?”
“To my home, of course.”
“Are you mad?” queried Keema.
“Mad? Why, what do you mean?” cried Papa.
“What’s the matter with you?” said the monkey. “Do you take me for a washerman’s donkey?”