And, truly, he was not.  Since he had been made at the workshop of Santa Claus, the Monkey had never been out in a rain storm.  He had always been either in the toy factory, the department store, or in some house, and when he was taken from one place to another he was always well wrapped up, so it did not matter whether there was snow or rain.

But now it was different.  The Monkey was getting wetter and wetter each minute.

“It’s the first time I’ve been in so much water since the janitor’s little girl tried to wash the ink spot off the end of my tail,” the Monkey said.

Just then he heard a voice calling: 

“Come over here, Mr. Monkey!  Over this way, and you can stand under this big leaf, which is like an umbrella!”

“Hello!  Who are you?” asked the Monkey, looking around, but seeing no one.  By this time he had crossed the green meadow and was near a little clump of trees.

“I am Jack in the Pulpit,” was the answer.  “I live on the edge of the woods.  There are big fern leaves here under which you can be safe from the rain.  Hop over!”

So the Monkey hopped through the wet grass until he came close to the trees in the woods.  Then the voice called again: 

“Straight ahead now, and you’ll see me!”

The Monkey looked, and saw a queer little thin green chap, standing up in the middle of a sort of brown, striped leaf that curled over his head, just as in some churches the pulpit curls down over the preacher’s head.

“Who did you say you were?” asked the Monkey.

“I am Jack in the Pulpit,” was the answer.  “Some folks call me a plant, and others a flower.  They don’t know I am really alive, and can come to life as you toys do.  I saw you getting wet, so I called to you.  Get under one of these big, broad fern leaves, and it will keep the rain off as well as an umbrella.”

Jack in the Pulpit nodded toward a big fern leaf near where he himself was growing, and in an instant the Monkey had crawled under this shelter.  Truly enough it kept off the rain, the drops pattering down on the leaf over the Monkey’s head as they used to patter on the roof of the toy store.  No longer was he out in the rain.

“Thank you for telling me how to keep out of the wet,” said the Monkey to Jack in the Pulpit.

“Oh, you are very welcome,” was the answer.  “And now please tell me about yourself and whether you have had any adventures.  I love to hear about adventures.”

So the Monkey told all about himself, even down to the time when he fell off Carlo’s back and visited the cave of Jack Hare.

“And I suppose Herbert is looking for me now,” said the Monkey.

“Oh, I hardly think he would be looking for you in all this rain,” said Jack in the Pulpit.  “Besides it will soon be night.  You had better make up your mind to stay here until morning.  Then the sun will be shining and you can hop back to the place where you fell off the dog’s back.  Then Herbert and Dick may come along and find you.”