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“Come over here, Mr. Monkey! Over this way, and you can stand under this big leaf, which is like an umbrella!”

“Hello! Who are you?” asked the Monkey, looking around, but seeing no one. By this time he had crossed the green meadow and was near a little clump of trees.

“I am Jack in the Pulpit,” was the answer. “I live on the edge of the woods. There are big fern leaves here under which you can be safe from the rain. Hop over!”

So the Monkey hopped through the wet grass until he came close to the trees in the woods. Then the voice called again:

“Straight ahead now, and you’ll see me!”

The Monkey looked, and saw a queer little thin green chap, standing up in the middle of a sort of brown, striped leaf that curled over his head, just as in some churches the pulpit curls down over the preacher’s head.

“Who did you say you were?” asked the Monkey.

“I am Jack in the Pulpit,” was the answer. “Some folks call me a plant, and others a flower. They don’t know I am really alive, and can come to life as you toys do. I saw you getting wet, so I called to you. Get under one of these big, broad fern leaves, and it will keep the rain off as well as an umbrella.”

Jack in the Pulpit nodded toward a big fern leaf near where he himself was growing, and in an instant the Monkey had crawled under this shelter. Truly enough it kept off the rain, the drops pattering down on the leaf over the Monkey’s head as they used to patter on the roof of the toy store. No longer was he out in the rain.

“Thank you for telling me how to keep out of the wet,” said the Monkey to Jack in the Pulpit.

“Oh, you are very welcome,” was the answer. “And now please tell me about yourself and whether you have had any adventures. I love to hear about adventures.”

So the Monkey told all about himself, even down to the time when he fell off Carlo’s back and visited the cave of Jack Hare.

“And I suppose Herbert is looking for me now,” said the Monkey.

“Oh, I hardly think he would be looking for you in all this rain,” said Jack in the Pulpit. “Besides it will soon be night. You had better make up your mind to stay here until morning. Then the sun will be shining and you can hop back to the place where you fell off the dog’s back. Then Herbert and Dick may come along and find you.”

“That’s what I’ll do,” said the Monkey.

Just as the Jack had said it would, it soon became dark, and it kept on raining. But the Monkey curled up under the big fern leaf, where it was nice and dry. Soon the Monkey began to feel warm and sleepy, and, before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

In the morning the rain had stopped. The sun came out bright and warm and dried up the damp grass. Jack in the Pulpit awoke, and, looking over toward the Monkey, fast asleep under the broad leaf, called:

“Hi, there, Mr. Monkey! It’s morning! Now maybe you can find Herbert, or he can find you!”

“Dear me! Morning so soon?” exclaimed the Monkey, stretching out his legs. “I must have slept very soundly.”

“Did you dream any?” asked the Jack.

“Not that I remember,” was the answer. “But I am glad the rain has stopped. Now I’ll hop over the meadow, back to the place where I fell off Carlo’s back, and I’ll wait there until Herbert comes for me, as I am sure he will.”

“I shall be sorry to see you go,” said Jack, “but I suppose it has to be. If you ever get back this way again, stop and see me.”

The Monkey said he would and then, smoothing down his plush, he sat out in the sun awhile to get a little dryer and warmer. He looked at the end of his tail.