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“I don’t so much mind about my tail,” answered the Monkey. “I think it will be rather stylish to have it dark and inky on the end. But I am sorry about your face. I never thought about the ink staying on or I never would have daubed you the way I did.”

“Well, don’t feel too bad about it,” advised the Doll, with a smile. “I just happened to remember that it is stylish to be tanned. All the other dolls and toys will think I have spent a vacation at the seashore, as the janitor says. Really, after I get used to it, I shall be glad you put the ink on me.”

But the Monkey still felt sorry.

That night the janitor’s little girl played with the Monkey on a Stick, making him do all sorts of funny tricks. He would climb up when she pulled the string, and sometimes he would just stand up on the top of his stick, almost as straight as the Bold Tin Soldier.

Then, again, he would turn over backward and slide down head first to the bottom of the pole. Another time he would tumble forward and slide down the other way, turning somersaults on the trip.

“Oh, I just love this Monkey!” said the little girl.

In the morning the janitor took back to school in his pocket the Monkey and the Doll.

“Be sure and bring them to me again, if nobody wants them!” called the little girl, who had almost got the Doll’s face clean.

“I will,” her father promised.

The school was all right again the next day. The broken pipes had been mended, and the boys and girls could come back to their lessons. The teacher in the room where Herbert, Dick and their friends studied was much surprised when the janitor gave her the Doll and the Monkey, and told about finding them in her desk with an upset bottle of ink. He related how he had taken them home over-night for safe keeping.

“And so your little girl cleaned them,” said the teacher. “That was very good of her, and I am going to make her happy. You may take back to her this doll, with the make-believe tanned face.”

“Are you really going to give my little girl the doll?” asked the janitor.

“Yes,” replied the teacher. “The little girl from whom I took the doll is not coming back to this school any more, and her mother sent word I might give the doll away. So I’ll give her to your little girl.”

“That is very kind of you,” said the janitor. “My little girl will be happy.”

The Monkey was put back in the desk until after school. Then Herbert was called up.

“Here is your Monkey on a Stick, Herbert,” said the teacher. “You must not bring him to school again.”

“No’m, I won’t!” promised the little boy.

“I am sorry he got that blot of ink on the end of his tail,” went on the teacher.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Herbert, with a smile. “He can climb his stick just the same.”

And the Monkey really could. The ink on his tail didn’t bother him a bit. Up and down the stick he went, when Herbert pulled the string, and even the teacher had to laugh, the Monkey was so funny.

“I’m so glad I have my Monkey back!” thought Herbert as he ran along the street.

All the other boys and girls were ahead of him, as he had been kept in a little while after school to get his toy back. All at once, as Herbert was passing a candy store, he saw, coming out of it, Dick, the boy who owned the White Rocking Horse.

“Oh, hello, Herbert!” called Dick, giving his friend a piece of candy. “So you have your Monkey back!”

“Yes,” Herbert answered. “I stayed in to get him.”

“I know how we can have some fun with him,” went on Dick.

“How?” Herbert wanted to know.