When this talk was over, the president called for some stories of
foreign animals.
Another boy came forward, made his bow, and said, in a short, abrupt
voice, "My uncle's name is Henry Worthington. He is an Englishman, and
once he was a soldier in India. One day when he was hunting in the
Punjab, he saw a mother monkey carrying a little dead baby monkey. Six
months after, he was in the same jungle. Saw same monkey still carrying
dead baby monkey, all shriveled up. Mother monkey loved her baby monkey,
and wouldn't give it up."
The boy went to his seat, and the president, with a queer look in his
face, said, "That's a very good story, Ronald--if it is true."
None of the children laughed, but Mrs. Wood's face got like a red poppy,
and Miss Laura bit her lip, and Mr. Maxwell buried his head in his arms,
his whole frame shaking.
The boy who told the story looked very angry He jumped up again. "My
uncle's a true man, Phil. Dodge, and never told a lie in his life."
The president remained standing, his face a deep scarlet, and a tall boy
at the back of the room got up and said, "Mr. President, what would be
impossible in this climate, might be possible in a hot country like
India.
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