He opened the door of the cage, and the monkey struggled as well as he was able, until Toby was obliged to exert all his strength to put him in.
When once the door was fastened upon him, Toby tried to impress upon his monkey friend's mind the importance of being more sedate, and he was convinced that the words had sunk deep into Mr. Stubbs's heart, for, by the time he had concluded, the old monkey was seated in the corner of the cage, looking up from under his shaggy eyebrows in the most reproachful manner possible.
Toby felt sorry that he had spoken so harshly, and was about to make amends for his severity, when Mr. Lord's gruff voice recalled him to a realizing sense that his time was not his own, and he commenced his day's work with a lighter heart than he had had since he stole away from Uncle Daniel and Guilford.
This day was not very much different from the preceding one so far as the manner of Mr. Lord and his partner toward the boy was concerned; they seemed to have the same idea that he was doing only about half as much work as he ought to, and both united in swearing at and cursing him quite as much as possible.
So far as his relations with other members of the company were concerned, Toby stood in a much better position than he did before. Those who had witnessed the scene told the others how Toby had led in the monkeys on the night previous, and nearly every member of the company had a kind word for the little fellow, whose head could hardly be seen above the counter of Messrs. Lord and Jacobs's booth.
[to be continued.]
[HOW TO BUILD A SAIL-BOAT.]
BY F. S. C.
As a matter of course, your ice-boat has been built, rigged, and ironed; and after a variety of mishaps you are fully able to manage her under sail. A locomotive has been raced with, perhaps, and beaten; Bill B. and Charlie A. have the marks still on their shins where the bowsprit stay or runner plank ran against them. A heavy fall of snow or the ice-men will spoil your sailing; no doubt it has come to pass, and you are left out in the cold, with nothing to do but blow your fingers, and blame the snow and the ice-men. After flying along at the rate of a mile a minute in, you might say, unlimited space on a gigantic pair of skates, it is rather a hard matter to be obliged to come down to an ordinary pair, with but a small pond to skate on, at a speed of, say, six miles an hour, and the wind in your favor, too.