mean old thing to make papa say that we have to give him up. I wished
I dared tell her so. I should like to stand outside her door and
holler at the top of my voice:

"Old Aunt Pat
You're mean as a rat!"

"Why, Philip Tremont!" cried Elsie, in a shocked voice. "Something
awful will happen to you if you talk that way. She isn't just your
aunt, she's your great-aunt, too, in the bargain, and she's an old,
old lady."

"Well, I would!" insisted Phil. "I don't care what you say." Just then
a faint sound of music, far-away down the street, but steadily coming
nearer, floated up the attic stairs. The children ran to the window to
listen, hanging recklessly out over the sill.

"It's a grind-organ man!" cried Elsie, "and he's got a monkey."

"I wonder how Dago would act if he were to see one of his own family,"
said Phil. "Come on, let's take him down and see."

He grabbed me up excitedly, regardless of the fact that I had not
finished my breakfast, and was still clinging to a half-eaten banana.
Tucking me under his arm, he went clattering down the steep attic
stairs, calling Elsie to follow. Running across the upper hall, he
slid down the banister of the next flight of stairs, that being the
quickest way to reach the front door and the street. Elsie was close
behind. She slid down the banister after him, her chubby legs held
stiffly out at each side, and the buttons on her jacket making a long