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Updated: May 17, 2025
"It's it's a new kind of banana," said Bumpo, for he and his brothers and sisters were very fond of the soft red and yellow fruit. "No, it isn't a banana," said Mrs. Monkey. "It's a cocoanut." "I never saw a cocoanut as big as that," spoke Mappo, for his papa had brought some smaller, round nuts to the tree-house, and had said they were cocoanuts.
It has a fire-place, and wide verandah, which is nearly 6 feet above the ground, so that I am high and dry, and have all the better view too, quite a grand flight of steps a broad ladder up into my house. The Mahaga lads and I call it my tree-house. 'Then I have one great luxury. I thought I would have it, and it is so nice.
All of a sudden, as the little monkeys were eating away, there sounded a rustling in the trees. Something was coming through the branches. "Look out!" cried Jacko. "Run!" shouted Mappo. "Don't be afraid, children, it's only your papa," said a kind, chattering voice, and Mr. Monkey, with a bunch of bananas slung over his back, came scrambling up to the tree-house.
Monkey went into the tree-house, came out with a brown, shaggy thing, about as big as a small football. Have you ever seen one of those? Only, of course, it was not a football. "Oh, what is it, Mamma?" asked Chaa. "I know!" exclaimed Bumpo, as he tried to climb under a branch, and bumped his head. "Ouch!" he cried.
Through one of the arrow-slit windows of my tree-house I could see far away a great mountain top whitened with perpetual snow, which our Lord the Sun dyed with blood every night of His setting. Night after night I used to watch that ruddy light with wide straining eyes.
If so be ye fall in the river or anything, just you scream, Miss Marjorie, and I'll come and fish you out." "We don't fall in twice in one day," said Marjorie, with dignity, and the two Quaker ladies trailed away across the lawn. They went down into the orchard, to pay a visit to Breezy Inn. This was Marjorie's tree-house which Uncle Steve had had built for her the year before.
Then the sun came out, and under its benign influence we forgot the hardships of the night and went off in search of breakfast. After that, to show the inconsequentiality of life in those days, we fell to playing. It must have taken us all of a month, working intermittently, to make our tree-house; and then, when it was completed, we never used it again. But I run ahead of my story.
Why, Grandma, we were in the tree-house, and it was struck by lightning, and Stella was killed, at least for a little while, and the ladder broke down, and we couldn't get down ourselves, and so we sent off rockets of distress, I mean firecrackers, and then Carter came and rescued us all!"
We got up in our tree-house and shot at them with bows and arrows, and they couldn't reach us. I liked having George. If he'd only stayed funny, without getting dangerous. But George got dangerous. It was this way: George and the two boys on the farm, Samuel and Charlie Crosscup, were having a talk on the middle of Rabbit Run Bridge, about fire engines.
Peggy and Alice had a very happy time the next few days playing with Clara. Their school had a vacation, too, so the children were able to spend long hours together, sometimes at one house and sometimes at the other. They liked better going to see Clara on account of the tree-house; and Clara liked better going to see them.
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