Grandfather bought toto from a tonga-driver for the sum of five rupees. The tonga-driver used to keep the little red monkey tied to a feeding-trough, and the monkey looked so out of place there that Grandfather decided he would add so the little fellow to his private zoo. Toto was a pretty monkey. His bright eyes sparkled with mischief beneath deep-set eyebrows, and his which were a pearly white, were very often displayed in a smile that frightened the life out of elderly Anglo-Indian ladies. But his hands looked dried-up as thought they had been pickled in the sun for many years. Yet his good looks (Grandfather believed a tail would add to anyone's good looks) also served as a third hand. He could use it to hang from a branch; and it was capable of scooping up any delicacy that might be out of reach of reach of his hands. Grandmother always fussed when Grandfather brought home some new bird or animal. So it was decided that Toto's presence should be kept a secret from her until she was in a particularly good mood. Grandfather and I put him away in a little closet opening into my bedroom wall where he was tied securely or so we thought to a peg fastened into the wall. A few hours later when Grandfather and I come back to release Toto we found that the walls which hand been covered with some ornamental paper chosen by Grandfather now stood out as naked brick and plaster. The peg in the wall had been wrenched from its socket and my school blazer which had been wrenched from its socket and my school blazer which had been hanging there was in shreds.