So she went on rapidly, "Yes, I want this one. With good
care and petting he will grow happier, I'm sure. Then he really looks
as if he had a conscience."
Mr. Lawrence laughed.
"Be not deceived by that long visage, Miss Hosmer. I have a foreboding
that he will prove a terror. Time will tell."
Dwight was of course wild to invest, also, but his uncle said,
"No, my boy! One monkey is a good many. Wait and see how this will
turn out. There's no end to the opportunities for monkey deals in this
part of the world. They are a drug on the market."
Meanwhile, the stately vender set his tree against a wall and began
gravely untying the wizened little specimen from his branch, then
handed him into the eagerly outstretched hands of Faith with a superb
smile, as if he were some great potentate conferring a priceless boon
upon a beloved subject. Not that he was anything but the poorest
fellah,[2] with scarce a sou to his credit, but this is Oriental
mannerism, and most impressive mannerism it is, too.
He then raised his finger and addressed a regular harangue to the
creature, who, with tail curled about Faith's wrist, sat gravely upon
his two palms and listened. The tiny beast was so moveless, so
attentive, and so solemn, its master so earnest and impressive that all
looked on wonderingly until, having finished his remarks, the Arab gave
a last shake of his dingy finger monkeywards, salaamed low to the
party, then shouldering his burden stalked on once more, the little
captive looking after him for a minute, and then wrinkling up his mummy
visage to give a weak, babyish cry.
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