Bob could do nothing but scream and beat at the mischievous animal, first with one hand, then with the other, then with both at once, while the crowd shouted with laughter, until the organ-grinder, seeing that his monkey was really in danger, stopped his music, called off his pet, and began to move away. Then the crowd of children dispersed.
John and Fred, who had been taking their turn "off" when these proceedings began, now made their way to their crest-fallen comrades. Bob was too angry to make any attempt to collect his property. He picked up his battered hat and walked home, saying, "I don't care what becomes of the old things. I've done with them."
A few of their friends were kind enough to assist them in the search, but it was a sorry-looking set of goods that were collected.
"They're half of them gone," said Tom. "I do believe that monkey went off with his cheeks and pockets full of our things."
"I'll have that man prosecuted," said John, fiercely. "Which way did he go?"
"Oh, he's more likely to prosecute us. He says Bob half killed his monkey."
Sadly the boys packed up their damaged goods and carried them home, protesting that they had had enough of store-keeping. The monkey had scratched Bob's head so hard that he was really suffering, and Bess had to run for the arnica bottle, and bandage his head.
Aunt Sue was particularly liberal with the cake and preserves that evening at tea, and if anything could have comforted the boys, it was such thoughtfulness.