Jennie by Douglas Preston Read Free Book Online

She’s
never
acted like this before.”
    I saw no alternative but to sacrifice my dignity and crawl under the chaise myself to retrieve the chimp and the hat. I grabbed Jennie by the foot and dragged her out. Her piercing screams filled the room, sounding for all the world as if she were being stretched on the rack.
    â€œThe poor thing,” said the Reverend. “She’s frightened.”
    â€œWith good reason,” I said, seizing the hat from her head and dragging her toward the bathroom. I locked her in. Her pounding and muffled screams gave the house the air of a nineteenth-century insane asylum.
    When I returned, I found Lea still apologizing while the Reverend turned his hat over in his hands. Jennie’s five minutes with the hat had completely destroyed it.
    â€œThe poor thing,” said the Reverend, almost to himself, and then it all came out in a stammered jumble. “My wife is afraid of animals. She isn’t too keen on the idea of having a monkey in the neighborhood.”
    There was a silence. What he had been sent over to say had just been said.
    â€œI, myself, have always liked animals,” he added wistfully.
    â€œI just can’t understand Jennie’s behavior—” Lea began again, not very convincingly.
    â€œI’m sure,” I said, “that as Jennie gets a little older she’ll settle down.”
    As if on cue the screaming redoubled and the Reverend winced. “I hate for her to be in there on my account.”
    We talked some more, rapid exchanges of small talk spoken during lulls in the storm. Then, from upstairs, the sleeping baby woke and also began to howl. Lea went up to get her while I released Jennie from her imprisonment.
    As soon as the door opened her cries ceased, and she looked up at me with the most pathetically sad and frightened little face. She waddled over and opened her arms to be hugged, looking contrite. I carried her back into the living room.
    Palliser sat on the sofa, looking rather at a loss, his hands folded on the table. Jennie climbed down and laid her hand on his and made a low, mournful hoot. Lea came down with the baby.
    â€œOh,” said the Reverend to Jennie. “You’re sorry. You want to say you’re sorry.”
    Jennie hopped up on the sofa and opened her arms for a hug. Palliser picked her up and hugged her, her furry head briefly nestling against his bald pate.
    â€œWhat a darling,” the Reverend said, a little breathlessly. “I do think she likes me. Yes, indeed, I do.”
    Jennie sat in his lap, playing with one of his buttons.
    â€œAren’t you a nice girl,” he said again, patting her back. “Here, a welcome-to-America present for you,” and he gave her back the hat. Jennie snatched it and clapped it on her head. Then she gave a big hoot and jumped to the floor and began strutting around.
    â€œYou don’t have to do that,” I said to Palliser.
    â€œOh, but I
want
to. She’s very cute in a hat. Every monkey needs a hat, right, Jennie?” He turned to us, beaming, as if he were the father himself.
    Jennie spun around and came strutting back, clacking her teeth with happiness.
    The Reverend finally rose to leave. “We won’t say anything about this to Mrs. Palliser,” he said, stammering slightly and turning red with embarrassment. “The hat was a gift from her. But I never really liked it; I’m not a hat person, you know. She feels Iought to be covering up my baldness. One doesn’t, so she tells me, expose one’s baldness these days. I’ll say I lost it.”
    He scurried out the door.
    â€œOh no,” said Lea, looking out the window, “there she is, on the stoop, waiting to hear the news.”
    I saw that the very thick Mrs. Palliser was indeed standing in the door, with a sour expression on her face.
    â€œWhat an oddly pleasant fellow,” said Lea. “Jennie seems to have won him over. He’s