ou were shut
up in the meal chest--but I've had a swollen heart ever since then--and
that I can thank you for."

But Mother says that's all nonsense.

CHAPTER VII

PETS: PARTICULARLY CAROLA-CAROLUS

One day a man from Vegassheien came into our kitchen with four live
chickens that he wanted to sell. All hens, he said. We had never had any
pets at our house except Bouncer, our big black cat; and Karsten and I
were seized at once with an overwhelming desire to own these four
half-grown, golden-brown chickens, who lay so patiently in the bottom of
the peasant's basket, put their heads on one side and looked up at us
with their little round black eyes. Oh, if Mother only would buy these
darling chickens for us! It is such fun to have pets.

Speaking of pets makes me think of Uncle Ferdinand, and the pet monkey
he had.

You know Uncle Ferdinand? The elegant old gentleman dressed in gray,
who bows so politely, and has such a friendly smile for everybody. Yes,
all the world knows him. He is not really my uncle--or any one's uncle,
that I know of; every one just calls him Uncle, because it seems as if
it exactly suited him. He is certainly the kindest person in the world.
All poor people love him; and he likes all people and all animals.

His wife is Aunt Octavia, and they are very rich and live in a charming
house, with lots of rooms, where there are a great many beautiful
things, works of art and such things. Off in her little boudoir, Aunt
Octavia lies on a sofa all day. She is not really ill, Mother says; she
just lies there because she is so rich. My! if I had as much money as
Aunt Octavia, I should do something besides lie on a sofa with my eyes
shut!

Uncle Ferdinand and Aunt Octavia have no children. That is why they are
both so terribly fond of pets. Aunt Octavia likes best little white
silky poodles that are bathed in luke warm soap-suds, wrapped in a
bathing sheet and combed with a fine comb, and that roll across the
floor like little white balls. I really believe she likes such silky
poodles better than anything else in the world.

But Uncle Ferdinand likes monkeys best. The pet monkey he had was
brought home on one of his ships. The sailors on board had named it
"Stomach," because it was such a great eater, and it was called that all
the rest of its life.

Uncle Ferdinand certainly was in a scrape that time. At first he didn't
dare to tell Aunt Octavia that he thought of bringing a monkey into t