“Jacko no bite!” murmured Pietro, and he seemed proud of the attention his simian was attracting. “You take him!”
He held the little creature out to Nina, but she drew back with a scream of real or pretended fright.
“I’d love to hold him!” exclaimed Mary Wilson. “Do let me! Come on, you queer little imp!” she murmured.
The monkey whimpered but went to her and put his little hairy paw about the girl’s neck.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do it for the world!” cried Nina.
“He’s a dear!” murmured Mary. “His hands are as soft as a baby’s.”
The monkey readily made friends, and he had a feast of peanuts, for all the boys had done as Bob requested, and there were enough of the goobers to last Jacko a year, it seemed.
“Go on—play something!” cried Bob to his organ orchestra, and the wheezy instrument was set in operation. The boys and girls laughed, particularly when Jacko did some of his tricks, which he performed better to the strains of the organ, it seemed.
Then the jazz took its turn and the party was on.
This isn’t a story of Bob Dexter’s party, and I don’t propose to tell you of the jolly times that went on there—for it was a jolly affair—no doubting that. The jazz was of the jazziest, the monkey and organ made a great hit, and the refreshments were all that could be desired.