THE MARMOSET. 



89 



intended to return to the cornice to devour it 

 at his leisure, but I had quietly stepped back 

 from the curtain, so far that he did not care to 

 jump, and as I did not attempt to touch him, 

 he decided to make the best of it. 



He returned to my hand, sat up and pro- 

 ceeded to dispose of his prize, while I in turn 

 studied him. He never took his alert eyes off 

 my face, and after he had eaten the candy he 

 started on a tour of discovery. The material of 

 my dress was scrutinized, a falling lock of hair 

 examined, perhaps with the idea of adding it 

 to his bed, and the flowers of my bonnet tasted 

 and rejected as hollow mockeries. 



The treasure which rewarded his search, how- 

 ever, was a rose in my dress. This he took out of 

 its place, and went on to demolish. Each petal 

 he pulled off deliberately, dropped it to the 

 carpet, and looked over after it as it fell. He 

 nibbled the green leaves and at last ran off with 

 the bare stem as a trophy. 



Then he began to call to his mate, who all 

 this time was performing droll gymnastic feats 

 on a, picture cord. He replied with a sharp 

 little whistle. My little visitor ran quickly down 

 my dress, across the floor, up the curtain, across 

 the cornice, and down the picture cord, and 

 seated himself on top of the small picture frame 

 beside his friend. 



