He was so conspicuous in his bathing-suit the way he was, with
his face white and the rest of him black."

"And how is Chee-Chee getting on?--Chee-Chee," added the Doctor
in explanation to me, "was a pet monkey I had years ago. I left
him too in Africa when I came away."

"Well," said Polynesia frowning,--"Chee-Chee is not entirely
happy. I saw a good deal of him the last few years. He got
dreadfully homesick for you and the house and the garden. It's
funny, but I was just the same way myself. You remember how crazy
I was to get back to the dear old land? And Africa IS a wonderful
country--I don't care what anybody says. Well, I thought I was
going to have a perfectly grand time. But somehow--I don't
know--after a few weeks it seemed to get tiresome. I just
couldn't seem to settle down. Well, to make a long story short,
one night I made up my mind that I'd come back here and find you.
So I hunted up old Chee-Chee and told him about it. He said he
didn't blame me a bit--felt exactly the same way himself. Africa
was so deadly quiet after the life we had led with you. He missed
the stories you used to tell us out of your animal books--and
the chats we used to have sitting round the kitchen-fire on
winter nights. The animals out there were very nice to us and
all that. But somehow the dear kind creatures seemed a bit
stupid. Chee-Chee said he had noticed it too. But I suppose it
wasn't they who had changed; it was we who were different. When I
left, poor old Chee-Chee broke down and cried. He said he felt as
though his only friend were leaving him--though, as you know, he
has simply millions of relatives there. He said it didn't seem
fair that I should have wings to fly over here any time I liked,