Nancy shook her curls and turned her back on the patient-looking bear.
"He's stupid," she said. "Why can't you find the monkeys? You know you promised."
I suggested luncheon, but was overruled, and, on turning a corner, read my fate in large letters on the opposite building.
"Come on," said Nancy, taking me by the hand.
Her first selection was very old and melancholy. He accepted a piece of locust-bean with leisurely condescension and watched us with quiet interest as he chewed. He rather frightened me; the wisdom of all the ages was behind his wrinkled eyes.
"When you were in your prison did the Germans feed you through the bars?" Nancy asked with great clearness.
Several people in the vicinity became aware of our existence and, feeling the limelight upon me, I again mentioned the lateness of the hour.
"Talk to him," she said. "Ask him what it's like in there."
I treated the blinking monkey to a collection of clicks and chuckles which would have startled even a professor of the Bantu languages. He finished his bean and emitted a low bird-like call.
"What's that?" asked Nancy.