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From behind the chairs he looked approvingly at the glistening spread of silver and glass, the flowered mound of the Silver Queen bowl, the ring of faces, and "Miss Lolly" and "Miss Clist" in the dresses he had saved. Clothes of any kind were at a premium, and the Misses Alstons' hospitality extended to their wardrobe.
Miss Lolly and Miss Clist two young ladies not their business. And Missy Ellen" he paused for a second and gave a faint sigh "Missy Ellen velly fine old lady, but no sense. My old boss's fliends most all dead, new lawyers take care of his money. They say to me, 'Get out, old Chinaman! But you don't say that. So I come to you."
"Maybe I not good memly, I get heap old man." He made a move for the parlor door, his face wrinkled with his innocent grin. "Miss Lolly and Miss Clist here; awful glad see you," and he threw the door open. Mark took a deep breath and strode forward, pulling his cuffs over his hands, which at that moment seemed to him to emerge from his sleeves large and unlovely as two hams.
Mark Burrage he liked, found out about him through the secret channels of information that make Chinatown one of the finest detective bureaus in the land, and set the seal of his approval on the young man's visits. He would no more have shown him into the reception room and gone to see if "Miss Lolly and Miss Clist" were receiving, than he would have permitted them to change the dinner hour.
On the day when Minnie Alston's coffin had passed through the front door, he had carefully swept up the flower petals from the parlor carpet, his brown face inscrutable, his heart bleeding for his boss. Now his devotion was centered on the girls; "Miss Lolly and Miss Clist," he called them.
I take care Miss Lolly and Miss Clist I look out. You all 'ight, you come." He threw open the door with a flourish and called in loud, glad tones, "Miss Lolly, Miss Clist, one velly good fliend come Mist Bullage." At the end of the long room Mark was aware of a small group whence issued a murmur of talk.
"He says yes," answered the interpreter after the usual interchange. "What god do you believe in?" persisted Mr. Tutt. Suddenly Ah Fong made answer without the intervention of the interpreter. "When I in this country," he replied complacently in English, "I b'lieve Gees Clist; when I in China I b'lieve Chinese god."
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