GRAN'PA BUYS A MONKEY
As Nanny shot past me into the dining-room and slammed the door behind
her, I strode forward into the kitchen. There followed a scene I shall
never forget.
Molly was standing on a chair, shouting and laughing. Gran'pa was on
his hands and knees, fishing about under the table and making peculiar
little coaxing noises; and in the centre of the room was the cat, with
arched back and erect and angry-looking tail.
"_Gran'pa!_" I shouted--at the top of my voice.
He withdrew his head from beneath the tablecloth, his long, picturesque
white beard trailing grotesquely on the polished linoleum, and his
whole attitude and appearance as near to the monkey kingdom as ever I
had seen them.
"What in Heaven's name do you think you are doing?" I bellowed.
Before he could answer, there was a scuttling sound under the table;
the cat vanished, and the monkey suddenly dashed out of cover, made
straight for me and flung its arms round my right leg.
"Get away, you brute!" I yelled, trying to shake it off.
"Oh, Daddy, darling!" cried Molly, "isn't he sweet?"
"_Sweet!_" I thought, wildly. "This is a nice home-coming for a man
after a hard day's work in town."
Stooping down, I tried to dislodge the little brute's grip on my
trouser-leg, but the effort ended in failure. It had evidently found
what it thought was a refuge from further pursuit--and there it meant
to stay!
"Come and get him off!" I shouted at Gran'pa.
The old man crawled quickly towards me, took hold of the monkey's tail
and pulled!
It was then that I indulged in my first laugh that evening. There was a
quick snarl from the monkey, a shout from Gran'pa, and the next moment
Molly and I were witnessing the thrilling spectacle of a tug-of-war in
which Gran'pa's beard and the monkey's tail were the chief objects of
interest.
"_Leggo!_" cried the old man. "Ah! You would--would you?"
I saw the gleam of white teeth as the monkey tried more drastic methods
on Gran'pa's arm, the sudden flash of a human hand as it reached out
and cuffed the animal's head, and then a sort of rough-and-tumble on
the linoleum.
For about twenty seconds it was difficult to discern which was man and
which was monkey. Then the antagonists separated. There was a whoop and
a snarl, and a moment later the monkey was gazing down at us from the
top shelf of the kitchen dresser.
One would have thought that Gran'pa might have taken advantage of this
little respite; but, no! Either he was intensely vindictive, or else he
was fearful of his antagonist escaping.
"Lend me that chair, Molly!" he shouted.
He shuffled over to it, took it in his hands and approached the dresser.
"You'll get bitten!" I warned him.
("And serve you Jolly well right!" I added, under my breath.)
Undeterred, however, he placed the chair carefully in position and
prepared to mount.
The monkey eyed him for a moment with an interest which quickly merged
into intelligent anticipation. Scrambling further away from its
pursuer, it paused, looked over its shoulder and then suddenly reached
down to the next shelf and seized a plate.
"_Whoa!_" I shouted.
CRASH!
Another and another plate descended in rapid, nerve-shattering
succession.
"I say!" I cried. "This is getting beyond a joke. There won't be a
piece of whole china left in the place if we aren't quick. . . . Molly!
Go and fetch me that empty potato sack out of the pantry."
She rushed out of the room and Gran'pa and the monkey remained very
still, watching each other with malicious intent.
"For goodness sake don't move," I pleaded, "or the brute will only
begin again."
Gran'pa controlled himself and presently Molly returned with the sack.
But even now it was not as easy as it looked. Here was the sack, and
there was the monkey. How to get the latter into the former was a feat
requiring the magic art of conjuring.
I tried honeyed expressions, and even offered a succession of such
things as bread, cake, a banana, a handful of walnuts, and an apple.
But the monkey didn't show even the mildest interest. It was a most
suspicious little beast!
"You and Molly must hold the sack out," I said to Gran'pa. "Like
this--with the mouth wide open! Now I'll scrape him into it."
The old man and Molly caught hold of opposite sides of the sack and
gently tiptoed their way to the dresser, whilst I picked up the coal
shovel and mounted the chair.
"Now," I whispered. "Get right underneath him. . . . Ready?"
I recalled that verse of the Psalms: "_Thou shalt smite him in his
hinder parts and put him to shame._"
Raising the long-handled shovel, I slid it quickly along the back of
the top shelf and gave a powerful forward thrust as it reached the
monkey.
There was a little squeak of pained surprise, a clatter of falling
plates and metal, the thud of a soft body on the floor--not in the
sack!--and then a brown streak crossed the linoleum in a diagonal line
from dresser to door.
"Quick!" I cried. "He'll be out!"
The spirit of the chase was now burning in me like a flame. I dashed
across the kitchen in wild pursuit. But it was too late.
A metallic clatter came from the pantry, another squeak, and the little
brute vanished through the open window in a whirl of scurrying arms and
legs.
I turned to Molly, as she hurriedly entered, and explained, simply:
"That is through not shutting the door after you."
"Has he gone, Daddy? Oh! What a shame! . . ."
She was on the verge of tears and evidently regarded the monkey's
escape principally as the loss of a possible pet for herself.
We went outside into the gathering dusk.
"It's hopeless trying to catch him now," I observed. "He's probably
grinning down at us from the top of the walnut tree--thinking what
fools we are."
We stared up at the dark tangle of leaves and branches and presently
Gran'pa joined us, looking very flushed and gloomy.
"I expect he's up there!" I shouted, pointing heavenwards.
He made no reply, his emotions no doubt being far too deep for words.
"Look!" cried Molly. "I can see something moving."
I gazed aloft and at last made out a shadow-like form hauling itself
leisurely upwards--and upwards. . . . It was so exasperating that for
one mad moment I even thought of climbing in pursuit.
"Come along!" I said, at last. "Nothing but a shot gun will ever fetch
him down again. He has enough nuts up there for a lifetime."
Gran'pa looked at me miserably.
"_Confounded nuisance!_" he mumbled. "That monkey cost me five pounds,
George. . . ."
"_Did_ it, now?"
"Yes!"
"Whatever made you get the beastly thing?"
The reason was obvious, but I felt angry at all this disturbance being
suddenly thrust into my orderly and peaceful life, and took a cruel
delight in seeing the old man's discomfort.
"You _know_ why I got it," he snapped.
"You were after its interstitial glands," I retaliated. "I don't think
it's right and proper."
He drew himself up, defiantly.
"May I ask why?" he inquired with elaborate calm.
"Well, it seems inhuman to go about cutting up monkeys and things to
get hold of their glands. I hope to goodness the neighbors don't get to
hear of it."
He glanced at me.
"George," he said, quietly. "Since I've been living with you we've
never started quarrelling, and I don't intend to; but I mean to go on
with this. I'm an old man and I'm determined to test that new theory.
It is in my own interests and in the interests of science. If you
object, say so--and I'll leave the house this very night."
"You aren't serious, Gran'pa . . . ?"
"I mean every word."
"Then there's no more to be said. Naturally, though, I don't like
disturbances of this sort. It's not pleasant to come home and
find one's housekeeper in hysterics, Molly half off her head with
excitement, yourself capering about like a lad of ten, the cat rampant
and distracted, the kitchen turned into a menagerie, and pieces of my
best china flying about like shells in a bombardment."
"You needn't worry about the last. I can easily replace the
crockery--if that's your main grievance."
"Not at all! But you must admit . . ."
"I'll admit anything _and_ apologize for it, if necessary. But I won't
be dictated to."
"I'm sorry, Gran'pa. . . ."
"That's all right, my boy. Only, don't let us squabble about this most
unfortunate mishap."
He gazed wistfully at the dark branches of the walnut tree, where his
hope of rejuvenation was perched in security and ease.
"Let us go indoors," he said, at last. "It is useless waiting here any
longer!"
We reentered the house.
"Nanny!" I called out.
The dining-room door opened.
"Come along!" I said. "All clear!"
She returned to the kitchen, looking very scared and dubious.
"Where--is it?"
"Up in the walnut-tree."
"Thank goodness!"
Gran'pa winced at her selfish way of viewing his misfortune.
"I don't think the brute will worry you again," I whispered. "It'll
probably be miles away by to-morrow morning. But you'd better keep the
windows shut to-night. They're such inquisitive little beasts."
Molly and I withdrew to the dining-room, Gran'pa shuffling and mumbling
after us.
He was clearly upset at the sudden failure of his plans, and I could
not help sympathizing with him. That previous day's search in the East
End for a gentleman with a monkey for sale must have been a strenuous
enough undertaking at his age, but the skylarking in the kitchen
must have been a still greater strain. Nothing but Gran'pa's intense
enthusiasm for the cause could possibly have supplied such tremendous
motive power to a man of ninety-five. His endurance, his persistence,
and his unswerving faith and optimism had been extraordinary from the
very moment he had read that article. For the first time since his
arrival in England, he seemed to have waked up. It was, indeed, more
than a little sad to think that such industry had ended in failure.
"D'you intend offering a reward for the monkey's recovery?" I asked.
"Certainly!"
"Isn't it unwise? You'll only have people talking."
"What about? There's no reason why a man can't keep a monkey if he
wants to. Nothing very startling in that."
"Perhaps not. But you must know that this theory of the interstitial
glands is in all the papers. Everyone is talking about it. They'd
immediately associate your extreme age with . . ."
"George!" he interrupted.
"Yes?"
"Are you trying to be funny at my expense?"
"Of course I'm not, Gran'pa. I'm merely pointing out the ordinary,
everyday view which people will take. You're so carried away by your
enthusiasm that I think you don't realize some of the dangers incurred."
"Danger? What danger?"
"Over-excitement is one of them. Public ridicule another."
He snapped his fingers.
"_That_--to both of 'em."
"Suppose the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals steps in?" I
suggested.
"Society of Fiddlesticks. My life is worth more than a wretched little
monkey's."
"I quite agree. But will everyone hold the same opinion if you go
through with this--butchery of defenceless apes?"
I thought that I had found a weak spot in his armor at last; but I was
mistaken. These last few days had wrought a miraculous change in him.
Physically, he was much the same; but, mentally, he seemed to be an
entirely different man. To put the matter crudely but vividly, his mind
now had "ginger" in it. It was alive, active, rebellious, uncannily
penetrating.
"George!" he said. "I want a quiet talk with you. It's about time, too!
I seem to have been sitting in that chair for years without making
a murmur. And you've thought my brains were dead. It must be this
confounded climate of yours. But I'll show you."
He suddenly stopped and looked at Molly.
"I'm going to have a word with your father," he said. "Run in to Nanny
for a few minutes, my dear."
As she left the room I had the feeling that something ominous was going
to happen. I filled my pipe, lit it, sat down on the edge of the table
and waited.
He did not speak for a few moments, but stood pulling pensively at his
long, bushy beard--stroking and smoothing it as if it was the seat of
all his wild unrest. It looked so quaint to see this poor, bent old
grandfather of mine preparing to bully me, that I could hardly refrain
from smiling. And yet there was something in his manner which demanded
respect and attention.
"It's difficult to speak one's mind, George, after all the
kindness you've shown me since I've been in England," he began,
half-apologetically.
There was another long and contemplative pause, more tugging at his
beard--and more curiosity on my part. But presently he broke free of
his fetters and went straight ahead.
"Have you ever wished I were dead?" he asked, abruptly. "Don't be
afraid to answer!"
"In moments of anger or weakness," I began tentatively, "I may--once or
twice. . . ."
"Ah! That's nothing!"
It was very broad-minded of him to make such an admission, but I still
couldn't see what he was driving at.
"What I mean is this, George," he went on. "Have you ever wished me
dead because of my money?"
I started, hesitated a second, and then said:
"_No!_"
"You've never thought how much better off you'll be when I'm dead and
gone? Never wished I'd--get a move on?"
"Naturally, I've realized that you'd leave most of your money to me,
but I've never . . ."
"Then you must be different from everyone else. The young are always
waiting for the old to die and leave them something."
"That is rather sweeping!"
"Nonsense! Don't be a hypocrite. I had just the same inclination when I
was young--at any rate about distant relatives--like yourself and me,
for instance."
"That is no reason why you should accuse me of such sentiments," I
cried, rather testily.
"It is only telling you that you're human."
I refused to argue the matter.
"Well?" I said. "What's the object of all this palaver?"
"That's what I'm coming to. We can take it for granted that even if
you're not anxious for me to . . . pack up, you won't be very sorry
when I _have_ gone."
Again I started to protest, but he stopped me.
"Mind, I'm not such a fool as to blame you, for I do realize these
things. So I intend altering them. I'm going to turn your inclination
the other way. Not only will you _want_ me to live, but it's going to
be made positively worth your while."
This sounded very exciting--but I thought it just as well not to say
so. I held my peace.
"My plan is quite simple," he resumed. "I intend going on with this
experiment and having some new glands grafted, but I must have your
help--your interest--your enthusiasm behind me. It is necessary at my
age to depend on someone's youthful and active support. So the day when
the operation is declared successful you will receive five thousand
dollars in cash."
I gasped, but he went on with reckless extravagance:
"I'm a much wealthier man than you have ever imagined, George--and
we'll both begin to take advantage of the fact at once. Twenty years
ago, when I went to end my days in peace under your grandfather's
hospitable roof, I was worth close on two hundred thousand dollars.
That's a good deal . . . but, wait!"
I did so--speechless and open-mouthed.
"I intended leaving him everything when I died, but . . . the fates
arranged otherwise. Then I came to live with you, when he was gone.
And here I am--still spared--and with the money still growing. My
expenditure was small; for, after all, there was little I wanted at my
age beyond an easy chair by the fireside . . . food and comfort . . .
and tobacco, of course. So it came about that nearly every penny of my
dividends has been reinvested during the last twenty years, and to-day
I'm worth . . . what do you think?"
I couldn't think. I was far too amazed at Gran'pa's sudden disclosure
of the extent of his worldly wealth after all the years of secrecy
before he came to England.
"I shouldn't like to say," I stammered. "But it must be some nest egg!"
"Well over half a million dollars," he announced, quietly. "There! I've
put all my cards on the table, at last, and I suggest five thousand
dollars down for you, and then--ten thousand for each year I live.
_But_ . . . nothing when I die. How's that, George?"
He was actually laughing!
"It is--magnificent--staggering!" I exclaimed, trying to remember the
present rate of exchange. "But it's silly to make such a proposition."
"Is it? We shall see!"
"You could rely on my help in any case."
"I believe you. In spite of it, however, I think you'll agree that our
interests will be identical in future."
It would have been futile to dispute such a statement.
"I'm with you heart and soul in this gland business," I said. "I always
was, but . . ."
"Now, George, admit that you're keener than you were."
"Willingly!" I laughed.
"Shake on it!"
We shook! Ninety-five and Thirty-two shook hands on one of the
strangest and most thrilling bargains ever made. Some people might have
called me mercenary, but, as Gran'pa had said, I was only human, and he
really was a nuisance at times! This new arrangement was bound to make
me take a keener interest in his welfare.
"Now," he said, "we won't count the first move in the game. That
monkey's gone for good. It is your turn. . . . Come along, George!"
I considered the matter for several minutes before I spoke.
"Well," I suggested, at last, "we must first find an up-to-date surgeon
who's willing to undertake the job. . . . Next, we must get another
monkey--a bigger and better one than that scrubby little brute you
bought yesterday. I'm in favor of a gorilla, or an ourang-outang,
something with active and powerful internal organs. . . . Then we want
a list of the glands you're most likely to require. I don't think an
entire outfit would be advisable at first. One should go carefully
in such matters--starting with, perhaps, two or three new glands. If
they're a success you can extend the enterprise. . . . There's no
reason, for instance, why you shouldn't go one better than Nature and
have some of them in duplicate--a couple of pairs of each, say. I
believe they're all in pairs; but we can go into that later. It's a big
thing, and it will want a good deal of studying. . . ."
I found my enthusiasm growing.
"By Jove!" I cried. "This is going to be some experiment, Gran'pa!
Think of it! You're ninety-five--packed with memories and experiences;
crammed full of calm common-sense, a sort of perambulating encyclopædia
of acquired knowledge--the most valuable form of wisdom in the
world--but at present, you are hopelessly handicapped by physical
disabilities. Your senses are deadened, your mind is stupefied, your
. . ."
"Gently, George!"
But I couldn't help it. The possibilities underlying that
rejuvenescence were so great that the mere contemplation of them
carried me away.
"Remove all those degenerative influences, those bodily encumbrances,"
I went on, "and you have MIND triumphant. Even as you are, you're a
wonderful old man, but with youth on your side . . ."
"You flatter me, George! But it certainly is going to be a BIG THING!"
I was going to say more, but at that moment Nanny entered with the
first instalment of dinner.
"We'll begin to-morrow," I said.
Nanny stared at me in amazement, the tray trembling in her hands.
"I was speaking to Gran'pa," I explained.
She put the tray down and looked at both of us a little doubtfully.
"If this thing's a success," I thought, "perhaps Nanny would like a
new outfit, too. I should be sorry to lose her some day, and here's
a very simple solution of the difficulty. I'll speak to her about it
later. . . ."
We sat down to dinner and, presently, I drank to the success of
Gran'pa's great venture into the Unknown, to that prospective fight of
his against the muffling embrace of Old Age.
"May you regain your youth," I said, simply. "And your right hand
recover its strength and cunning. Here's to you, sir!"
Molly kicked me under the table and, when Gran'pa bent over his soup a
moment later, she made frenzied, interrogatory signs to me, with her
eyebrows lifted. I pretended not to understand.
"Daddy," she whispered, "is he going to have some of those
inter-stitches put in?"
I nodded.
"Oo-oo! Isn't it exciting!"
It certainly was! And Heaven alone knew where it would end. . . .