ound its neck, so it could not get away.

"The Italian may be along pretty soon looking for it," said William, the
chauffeur, who had been called from the garage to see Laddie's new pet.

"Peanuts," as the six little Bunkers called the monkey, seemed to enjoy
being with them. He climbed about the porch, and came down when they
held out in their hands bread, bits of crackers or cake, which the
monkey liked to eat.

The children were having lots of fun with their funny little pet, and
they were talking over and over again their wish that they might keep
him, when, from out in front, came the sound of a hand-organ. It played
rather a sad and doleful tune, and, at the sound of it, the monkey
seemed to prick up his ears, much as a dog might do.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Rose. "Maybe that's the hand-organ man that owns this
monkey."

"If it is I'd better see about it," said Aunt Jo. "I want you children
to have all the fun you can, but we don't want to keep a poor man's
monkey, any more than we do the poor woman's purse, though she hasn't
come for that yet."

William, the chauffeur, who also heard the hand-organ tune, went out in
front, and came back to tell Aunt Jo that the Italian had indeed lost
his monkey, and was looking everywhere for it.

"Tell him to come in," said Miss Bunker.

And a little later, walking along and grinding out the doleful tune, the
Italian came into the yard.

"Is this your monkey?" asked Aunt Jo, pointing to the one that Laddie
had coaxed down out of the tree with peanuts.

"Oh, Petro! Petro!" cried the Italian, leaning his hand-organ up against
a tree and rushing to the porch. "Ah, Petro! I have found you again, my
baby!" and he held out his arms. The monkey made a jump for them, and
sat up on the man's shoulder, chattering and taking off and putting on
his green cap so often that, as Russ said, he looked like a moving
picture.

"Ah, Petro! Petro!" cried the hand-organ man, and then he began to talk
to the monkey in Italian, which the little creature seemed to
understand, for he chattered back, though of course he spoke monkey
talk, or, maybe, jungle talk.

"Is that your animal?" asked William.

"Sure, he mine!" exclaimed the Italian. "His name Petro! I make-a de
music down de street, an' a big dog chase after Petro! He break-a de
string an' jump oop de tree. I no can find! Now I have him back! Ah, my
Petro!"

"Well, the children will be sorry to lose their pet," said Aunt Jo, "but
I'