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Updated: May 12, 2025
The tower in which Maid Maleen had been imprisoned remained standing for a long time, and when the children passed by it they sang, "Kling, klang, gloria. Who sits within this tower? A King's daughter, she sits within, A sight of her I cannot win, The wall it will not break, The stone cannot be pierced. Little Hans, with your coat so gay, Follow me, follow me, fast as you may."
And after the party we will leave it just so. Fine, my child! And I have an idea, too a brilliant idea. Hans, ask Mr. Kling to be good enough to come up here!" With the surrender of her Uncle Felix, Masie resumed her spinning around the room and kept it up until the father's bald head showed clear above the top of the stairs. "Masie has had one brilliant idea, Mr. Kling, and I have another.
The streets were left to people washing doorsteps; nobody was in full dress but the cavaliers upon the town-hall; they were all washed with dew, spruce in their gilding, and full of intelligence and a sense of professional responsibility. Kling went they on the bells for the half-past six as we went by.
This is truly a brilliant place under a brilliant sky, but Oh I weary for the wilds! There is one street, Chulia Street, entirely composed of Chulia and Kling bazaars.
Codman, Pestler, Mike, and Digwell responded, and before anybody knew where they had gone, or what it was all about, up came an old-fashioned spinet, which Kling remembered had been hidden behind a Martha Washington bedstead on the floor below. "All together, men!" shouted Codman, and it was picked up bodily, whirled into position, dusted off in a jiffy, and ready for use.
At this Kling, who was having a mug with Codman, rose from his seat, stepped to the top of the stairs and, looking over the crowd, called for four strong men, "right avay, k'vick!"
Be sure and stop when you pass here again. My name is John Kling." "We'll spend a week with you next time," returned Ned, as he grasped his paddle. "Please have the dam mended before then," drawled Nugget. The miller laughed and waved his hand, and amid a chorus of "good-byes" the Jolly Rovers paddled away from shore.
"And your name?" "O'Day." "Irish, of course well, all the same, come down any morning this week. My name is Ganger; I'm on the fourth floor been there twenty-two years. You'll have to walk up we all do. Yes, I'll expect you." Kling, whom Felix consulted, began at once to demur. He knew all about the building on 10th Street.
Mercier need not have exacted the life of the Kling servant, after all. He was supersensitive and over-scrupulous. Life in a prison colony in the Far East certainly affects one's judgment. The Colonial Bishop lay spread out on his long, rattan chair, idly contemplating the view of the harbour, as seen from his deep, cool verandah.
"Sahib wants my beautiful fruit," said one of the dark-faced men in the sampan, towards which Tom Long had stepped. "Hallo!" said Bob, going up. "You are not a Malay?" "No, sahib: I Kling, from Madras. Sell fruit flowers. This Malaya man."
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