Living in the same town as Marian there was a little girl called Gwendolen. Marian didn't know her very well, though they went to the same school and sometimes smiled at each other in church. Her father and mother were always climbing mountains and lecturing about them afterward, so Gwendolen had to live with her aunt, who was very rich and wore a lot of rings.

In many ways Gwendolen was a nice girl, but she had an exceptionally large tummy. Some people said that it was her own fault, because she was always sitting about eating marzipan. But some people said that she couldn't help her tummy, and had to eat a lot to keep it full. There were also people who said that her aunt spoiled her, being so greedy herself and always eating buttered toast.

Gwendolen's aunt had a pale, proud face, deeply lined by indigestion, and she lived in a big house on the right-hand side of Bellington Square. The colour of this house was a yellowish cream, and it had two pillars in front of the front door. There were eleven steps leading up to it, and there was a boy to open it who wore twelve brass buttons.

In the middle of this Square there was a sort of garden with tall iron railings all round it, and each of the people living in the Square had a key to open the gate of it. It was the tidiest garden in the whole world, and all the flowers in it stood in rows; and the people in the Square paid for a gardener to shave the grass every day. One of the reasons why the people in the Square were so rich was that they had so few children; and the children that they did have had to be very careful not to make foot-marks on the grass. Gwendolen's aunt sometimes went there when she had a headache and wanted to throw it off; and Gwendolen went there to eat marzipan and read about Princes and Princesses. She generally sat on a painted iron seat in front of a flower-bed shaped like a lozenge, and once she was sick behind a bush called B. stenophylla on a tin label.

One day she was sitting on this seat when she heard a curious sort of sound. At first it was rather faint, so that she didn't take much notice of it, but gradually it became louder and louder. Her aunt was sitting on the same seat wondering which of her medicines to take before dinner, and Gwendolen noticed that she began to look annoyed, because the noise was the sound of a harmonium. Some people like harmoniums, and have them in their houses, and play hymns on them on Sunday afternoons. But this was a harmonium that went on wheels, with a man to push it, and a woman walking beside him. After he had pushed it for a few yards he would sit down and play a tune on it, while the woman walked up and down, looking at people's windows and trying to catch their eye. If she saw anybody she would say "Kind lady," or "Kind gentleman," as the case might be, and perhaps the kind lady or the kind gentleman would throw her some money, and then she would say "God bless you." But people like that, with travelling harmoniums, weren't allowed to come into Bellington Square, and Gwendolen's aunt said, "Dear me, just when I wanted a little peace and quiet!"

If there had been anybody near, such as a policeman or a gardener, she would have told him to send the musicians away. But it was very hot, and there was nobody about, and so the people went on playing. Gwendolen watched them for a while through the railings, and the butler at Number Ten gave the woman a sixpence. Her aunt was very angry about it when Gwendolen told her, for what was the good of making rules, she said, if you encouraged people to break them?

The people with the harmonium came a little nearer, and then Gwendolen could see what they looked like. The woman was stout, with a hard brown face and rolling eyes like dark-coloured pebbles. When she smiled it was as if she had pinned it on, and as if the smile didn't really belong to her. The man had pale eyes, like those of ferrets in a hutch, and he watched the woman all the time he was playing. Gwendolen noticed that there was a long string fastened to one of the handles of the harmonium. She heard a little voice close to her knees.

"Oh, Gwendolen," it said, "save me."

Gwendolen looked down and saw the unhappiest little face that she had ever seen in her life. It belonged to a small brown monkey wearing a red jacket and a blue sailor hat. He was staring up at her with timid dark eyes.

"I heard your aunt speak to you," he said. "So I know your name."

He looked over his shoulder at the man and the woman. But the woman was looking at the houses, and the man was watching her.

"What's the matter?" said Gwendolen.

He was holding on to the garden railings.

"Lift up my jacket," he said, "and you'll see."

Gwendolen stooped down and lifted up his jacket. There were three great wounds across his back.

"Oh dear!" she cried; "how did you get those?"

"They beat me," he said. "They're always beating me."

Gwendolen may have been lazy, and she may have been greedy, but she had a soft heart, and the monkey had seen this.

"Oh, how dreadful!" she said. "But when did you learn to talk?"

The monkey shivered a little.

"Hush, they don't know," he replied. "I've lived with them so long that I've learned their language."

"But why don't you run away?" asked Gwendolen.

"How can I? They keep me on this string and beat me every night."

Gwendolen thought for a moment.

"Oh, Gwendolen," he said, "do save me if you can!"

From where she was kneeling Gwendolen could see the woman going up the steps to one of the houses. The man was watching her as usual. Gwendolen was half hidden from them by a bush.

"But there's my aunt," she said. "I don't know what my aunt would say."

"Listen," said the monkey. "I could take you to a lovely island."

Gwendolen frowned a little.

"But I don't know," she said, "that my aunt's very fond of islands."

"She would be of this," said the monkey. "What's your aunt fondest of?"

Gwendolen thought for a moment.

"Buttered toast," she said.

"Well, it's ever so much nicer," said the monkey, "than buttered toast."

Gwendolen looked at her aunt and then at the monkey, with his sad eyes and shaking limbs. There wasn't much time. In another minute the man and the woman would be moving on. Close beside her, in a little green box, she could see the tops of the handles of the gardener's shears. She took a deep breath. Then she made up her mind.

"All right," she said. "I'll see what I can do."

She crept to the box and took out the shears. The monkey squeezed himself through the railings. With a beating heart Gwendolen cut the string, caught up the monkey, and ran to her aunt. Her aunt looked up.

"Why, what have you got here?" she asked.

"He belongs to those people," said Gwendolen, "with the harmonium."

"Oh, save me!" said the monkey. "Save me!"

"Look what they've done to him," said Gwendolen. She lifted the monkey's jacket. Gwendolen's aunt put on her spectacles.

"Dear me!" she said; "but the monkey talks!"

"Yes," said Gwendolen. "He's been learning for a long time."

The monkey clasped his hands and looked into Gwendolen's aunt's face. He saw deep down into her, where her good nature was.

"If you let me go back to them," he said, "they'll kill me. Oh, lady dear, please help me!"

Gwendolen's aunt was rather disturbed. Nothing like this had happened to her before. If she took the monkey away, people would call her a thief. But if she let him go back, perhaps he would be beaten to death.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"On Monkey Island; it's the loveliest island in the world."

"But how did you come here?" she said.

The monkey began to tremble again.

"They stole me away," he said, "from my wife and children."

"Oh, Auntie," said Gwendolen, "can't we take him back there? He says it's ever so much nicer than buttered toast."

Her aunt stood up.

"Oh, bother the buttered toast," she said. "It's his wife and babies that I'm thinking about."

Then the harmonium suddenly stopped, and they heard the man cry out.

"Why, where's that monkey?" he said. He began to swear. They saw the woman run down the steps. The monkey gave a little cry and jumped into Gwendolen's aunt's arms. Then they saw the man and the woman rush toward the railings. Both their faces were dark as night.

"Come on," said Gwendolen's aunt. "We'll have to run for it. Make for the gate."

Fortunately, the gate was on the opposite side of the garden, and their own house was opposite the gate. The man and the woman would have to run right round the Square.

"We ought to beat them," said Gwendolen's aunt.

Oh, how sorry Gwendolen was then that her tummy was so large! But she ran as fast as ever she could, and almost kept up with her aunt. The man and the woman had started to run too, shouting aloud at the tops of their voices.

"We shan't be safe," said her aunt, "till we've got to the island; because we shall really be thieves till we've taken the monkey home."

They dashed across the grass and through the gate, and, just as they were running up their own front steps, they saw the man and the woman coming into sight round the corner of the railings. They had found a policeman, and he was running with them.

"Luckily the servants are out," said Gwendolen's aunt.

She was quite excited, and her eyes were shining. Gwendolen had never seen her looking so young. As soon as they were safely in the house, she shut the front door and bolted it.

"That'll give us another five minutes," she said. "Run upstairs and get your hat and overcoat."

Gwendolen ran upstairs, panting and puffing, and fetched her hat and overcoat and her doll David. Meanwhile her aunt ran into the study, opened her cash-box, and took out a hundred pounds. A minute later there came a thunder of knocks and two or three peals of the front-door bell.

"We'll get away," said her aunt, "through the back garden."

She had packed up a knapsack and slipped into a rain-coat. The knocks were repeated—rat-a-tat-tat. They heard angry voices shouting through the letter-box. Gwendolen's aunt laughed and shook her fist at them.

"Come along," she said; "now for the back garden."

From the back garden there was a little door leading into a street behind. Here there was a cab-stand, and Gwendolen's aunt told the cab-driver to drive to the station.

"We shall just be in time," she said, "to catch the 3.40 train."

It was only a horse-cab, but the horse galloped, and they arrived at the station just as the train came in. There was hardly a moment to take their tickets in. But the guard waited for them, and they just managed it. The engine whistled, the porter slammed the door, and the next moment they were off. The monkey, who had been hiding under Gwendolen's aunt's coat, poked his head out, and looked about him. Fortunately they had the carriage all to themselves.

"Oh dear!" said Gwendolen. "How splendid!"

It was an express train, and it didn't stop for an hour, and then Gwendolen's aunt thought that they had better get out.

"We'll hire a motor-car," she said, "and go to Lullington Bay and find my old friend Captain Jeremy. When I was young he wanted to marry me. But I was too proud and wouldn't let him."

So they got out and hired a motor-car, and drove at full speed to Lullington Bay. It was a long drive, and when they arrived at the Captain's cottage the stars were shining and the Captain was in his garden. Deep below them they could see the ocean, dark as bronze and knocking at the shore. Captain Jeremy was looking through a telescope. A stout little sailing-ship was anchored in the bay.

"Why, Josina," he said—that was Gwendolen's aunt's name—"fancy seeing you here after all these years!"

He was a sunburnt man with blue eyes, and Gwendolen liked him because he looked so kind. They told him what had happened, and he looked very grave.

"We must be off at once," he said. "I know that man and woman."

"Why, who are they?" asked Gwendolen.

"Smugglers," he said. "They're two of the most dangerous people I know. Luckily my ship is all ready to sail. We'll put off at once for Monkey Island."

The Captain lived alone. He had never been married. So he had only to lock up his cottage and put the key in his pocket.

"We ought to get there," he said, "in a couple of months' time if the wind holds fair."

It was the first time that Gwendolen had been on the sea, and for two or three days she was rather sea-sick. But after that she began to enjoy the voyage and the smell of the spray and the sight of the waves. It was lovely weather, and as they drew near the equator a great yellow moon shone on them all night. It was so hot that she hardly wore any clothes, and used to go barefooted just like the sailors; and she grew so brown and so graceful that she scarcely looked like the same girl. As for her tummy—well, there was no marzipan on board, and she soon began to lose all her love for it. She would ever so much rather be up in the rigging with David her doll and Captain Jeremy's telescope.

One day she suddenly noticed a sort of little cloud on the horizon. But it didn't move, and as the ship drew nearer she saw that the cloud was really an island. She called to the monkey, and he ran up the rigging beside her, and after one look he could hardly contain himself.

"That's the island," he cried, "my beautiful island, with my wife on it and my children."

Presently they came so close that they could see the golden sand and the tall trees with their clusters of fruit; and soon the ship was anchored, and Captain Jeremy gave orders for a boat to be lowered. Captain Jeremy himself, with two of his sailors, and Gwendolen, and Gwendolen's aunt all got into it; and in another five minutes they were standing on dry land again, with the happy monkey dancing beside them. Captain Jeremy and the sailors stayed by the boat, but Gwendolen and her aunt and the monkey began to explore the island. There were flowers everywhere, not planted in rows like the flowers in Bellington Square, but growing where they liked, and rejoicing in their freedom and praising God with their beautiful colours. Some of the trees were smooth, with curious flat leaves and knobbly brown berries that tasted like buttered toast. But Gwendolen's aunt had made a resolve to give up eating buttered toast. Since she had helped Gwendolen to rescue the monkey all her indigestion had disappeared; and she felt as fresh, and looked as pretty, as if she were only half her age.

Some of the trees were different, with twisted trunks, and pale red blossoms dripping with juice; and this juice tasted like marzipan, but Gwendolen had resolved to give up marzipan.

But it was a lovelier island than they had ever imagined, and soon the little monkey gave a cry of joy, and the next moment he was hugging in his arms another little monkey that had dashed to meet him. It was his wife, and just behind her there were two smaller monkeys waiting to be kissed; and Gwendolen and her aunt could almost have cried to see how happy they all were.

For nearly a month they stayed at the island, sleeping on board, but landing every morning; and Gwendolen learned to swim almost as well as a fish and to climb trees almost as well as a monkey. But Captain Jeremy wasn't really happy until a big steamer happened to come by with news that the man and the woman had been drowned in a storm on their way to try and catch Gwendolen and her aunt. It was now October, and by the time that they arrived home Gwendolen would have been away from school for a term and a half. So they said good-bye to the monkey and his family, and set sail from the island. Gwendolen cried a little, and so did her aunt; but on the way home an odd thing happened, for Captain Jeremy asked her aunt to marry him, and they had to think a lot about the wedding. They decided to get married on Christmas Day, and when Gwendolen's school-friends saw her as a bridesmaid she had grown so tall and straight and happy-looking that they wondered what on earth could possibly have happened to her.

"Sailor, sailor,
What's the song
That you sing
The whole day long?"
And the sailor
Said to me:
"Birth's the jetty,
Time's the sea,
"Death's the harbour,
Life's the trip,
Hope's the pilot,
You're the ship."
"Sailor, sailor,
Tell me true,
What's beyond
Those waters blue?"
But the sailor
Shook his head;
"That's a secret,
Sir," he said.