"Yes," Sara answered joyfully. "It 's too cold for monkeys to be out. They 're delicate. I 'll coax him in."
She put a hand out delicately, speaking in a coaxing voice—as she spoke to the sparrows and to Melchisedec—as if she were some friendly little animal herself and lovingly understood their timid wildness.
"Come along, monkey darling," she said. "I won't hurt you."
He knew she would not hurt him. He knew it before she laid her soft, caressing little paw on him and drew him toward her. He had felt human love in the slim brown hands of Ram Dass, and he felt it in hers. He let her lift him through the skylight, and when he found himself in her arms he cuddled up to her breast and took friendly hold of a piece of her hair, looking up into her face.
"Nice monkey! Nice monkey!" she crooned, kissing his funny head. "Oh, I do love little animal things."
He was evidently glad to get to the fire, and when she sat down and held him on her knee he looked from her to Becky with mingled interest and appreciation.
"He is plain-looking, miss, ain't he?" said Becky.
"He looks like a very ugly baby," laughed Sara. "I beg your pardon, monkey; but I 'm glad you are not a baby. Your mother could n't be proud of you, and no one would dare to say you looked like any of your relations. Oh, I do like you!"
She leaned back in her chair and reflected.
"Perhaps he 's sorry he 's so ugly," she said, "and it 's
