In a burst of hot summer weather he
had obtained permission to bathe in a modest-sized pond in the
orchard, and thither one afternoon Groby had bent his steps,
attracted by loud imprecations of anger mingled with the shriller
chattering of monkey-language. He, beheld his plump diminutive
servitor, clad only in a waistcoat and a pair of socks, storming
ineffectually at the monkey which was seated on a low branch of an
apple tree, abstractedly fingering the remainder of the boy's
outfit, which he had removed just out of has reach.
"The ipe's been an' took my clothes;" whined the boy, with the
passion of his kind for explaining the obvious. His incomplete
toilet effect rather embarrassed him, but he hailed the arrival of
Groby with relief, as promising moral and material support in his
efforts to get back his raided garments. The monkey had ceased
its defiant jabbering, and doubtless with a little coaxing from
its master it would hand back the plunder.
"If I lift you up," suggested Groby, "you will just be able to
reach the clothes."
The boy agreed, and Groby clutched him firmly by the waistcoat,
which was about all there was to catch hold of, and lifted, him
clear of the ground.
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