The Monkey untied the mouth of the bag, and took out one sixpence, and, click! dropped it into the pond. The Milkman heard a tiny splash, but it did not trouble him, because he thought it was a nut or something that had fallen from the tree. Click! another sixpence. Click! went a third.
By this time the Milkman's hands were dry, and he looked round to pick up his bag, and get him gone. But no bag! Click! click! went the sixpences all this while; and now the Milkman began to look around him. Before long he espied the Monkey sitting on a branch with his beloved bag, and—O horror! dropping sixpences, click! click! click! one after another into the pond.
"I say, you Monkey!" shouted he, "that's my bag! What are you doing? bring me back my bag!"
"Not yet," said the Monkey, and went on dropping the sixpences, click! click! click!
The Milkman wept, the Milkman tore handfuls of hair out of his head; but the Monkey might have been made of stone for all the notice he took of the Milkman.
At last the Monkey had dropt two hundred sixpences into the pond. Then he tied up the mouth of the money-bag, and threw it down to the Milkman. "There, take your money," said the Monkey.
"And where's the rest of my money?" asked the Milkman, fuming with rage.
"You have all the money that is yours," said the Monkey. "Half of the money was the price of water from this pond, so to the pond I gave it."