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Again, a day or two before the holiday of Good Will, Sky-High's mistress asked him to take his wages. "Keep it for me, mistress," said the boy as before. "Sky-High, he works for the good of his people." Mrs. Van Buren stood pondering the words. What meant the little Washee-washee-wang?
"Yes, yes, you shall come up-stairs with us, and you shall hear the Christmas thrush sing under the misletoe." Sky-High's heart fluttered, not at what he hoped to see, but at the thought of the presents that he hoped to make. Shortly before Christmas Mrs. Van Buren went to her little servant to pay him his wages, for he had accepted no payment as yet.
"Ah," said the little Chinaman, "you ought to see him do that in the night, when all he sends down turns into fire!" There never had been seen a kite like Sky-High's before. But the Chinese have been masters of kite-flying for more than two thousand years. Among their national festivals they have a kite-flying day. Sky-High often came there with his magic kite.
They spent whole evenings with Sky-High, tracing the route on the maps and globes. They would go by the way of San Francisco or Vancouver, and thence to Canton. They were to visit Sky-High's land first of all. "They're all gone mad sure!" said Nora; "and that boy'll never send 'em back!" Mr.
"And then you will be up-stairs," said little Lucy, "where it is very pleasant." "And now, Sky-High, tell me how it is that you can speak English so well," said Mrs. Van Buren, as they stood in the cabin, where the prospect of solitude seemed to please the boy. A gleam of something like mischief appeared on little Sky-High's face. "And, Madame de Mandarin," said he, "I speak French too.
The wrappings revealed a four-fold case of gold, which some curious mechanism permitted to open into leaves, and stand us a tablet, or half-closed. Each leaf held a small and perfect portrait the four were of the little serving-man's mistress and her children and the master; and it is impossible to describe the blissful expression in Sky-High's eyes when he first looked upon the familiar faces.
Van Buren related to her husband the singular interview she had had with their little Chinaman. Sky-High's kind offers seemed to amuse him for a long time. "But as for the little fellow's wages," said he, "don't bother. I'll step in to the consul's, and deposit them with Bradley." When Sky-High found that he was serving to amuse his mistress's household, he turned silent.
What could have made you think that there were, Sky-High?" "The cat she is long bewitched after my queue. I fired the crackers to dis-power her I saw her tail going over the fence! She is dis-possessed. She will not jump at Sky-High's queue any more. We shoot crackers in China when evil spirits come in the air. China is a spirit-land, mistress. Our air is filled with bright spirits and dark ones.
One day there was heard a tremendous explosion in the department of Sky-High. Mrs. Van Buren came running down-stairs. Lucy followed her, all eyes and ears. Irish Nora met them, running up-stairs. The kitten fled out, and jumped over the fence. The parrot was shrieking. Above Sky-High's door, Mrs. Van Buren saw a strange black character on a big red paper.
Do your people die to make room for more millions?" "My people value not to die, O Mandarin!" said the boy. "Such throngs of people they all have souls, think you?" A dark flush came upon little Sky-High's forehead. He opened his narrow black eyes upon his master. "Souls? They have souls, O Mandarin! Souls are all my people have for long." "Where go their souls when your people die?"
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