Little Sky-High | Page 6

its fragrance lingered about the house through the day, and
set her wondering what else the little Chinaman's immense trunk might
hold.
It had been agreed between the Consul and Mrs. Van Buren that little
Sky-High might talk with the family; and like her husband she found
the Chinese boy "a new book." She asked him many a curious question
about the "Flowery Kingdom," and one day she learned that "we never
send our finest teas out of China." Yes "we" said the
washee-washee-wang, as the neighbor-boys called him.

IV.
HOW SKY-HIGH CALLED THE GOVERNOR.
Cheerfully, in his fine blue linens, the little Chinese house-boy worked

in his cabin a portion of every day. The bluebirds came close to sing to
him and so did the red-breasted robins. Irish Nora and the parrot
became very civil, and he grew fond of Charlie and Lucy.
Some of the boys on their way to and from school made his only real
annoyance. Sometimes when his smoothing-iron was moving silently
under his loose-sleeved hand, or he was hanging the snowy clothes on
the lines, they would hide behind a tree or corner, and shy sticks at him
calling, "washee-washee-wang!" He bore it all in an unselfish temper,
until one day a big lump of dirt fell upon one of little Lucy's dainty
muslin frocks as he was ironing it. Then he said something that
sounded like, "cockle-cockle-cockle," and closed all the doors and
windows.
At this crisis Charles and Lucy came to his side. They set wide again
the doors and windows of the cabin under the green boughs, and
promised him that they would forever be his true friends and protectors.
"It is time we began to treat him like a wang, as mother wished," said
Lucy to Charlie.
"The American boys throw dirt at me in the street," admitted little
Sky-High, in a reluctant tone--he did not like to bear witness against
anyone in this sunshiny world.
"I will go out with you," said Charlie, "when you are sent out to do
errands. I will stand between you and the dirt. The dirt comes out of
their souls."
"And I will watch around the corners and speak to them," said Lucy.
Sky-High's heart bounded at these pledges of friendship, and he leaped
about in a way that made the parrot laugh--sometimes he had the parrot
in his cabin, and taught it Chinese words. "The sun shines for all, the
earth blossoms for all," he said to the children; "it is only the heart that
needs washee-washee and smoothee-smoothee. Everything will be
better by and by. I talk flowery talk, like home, out here among the
birds, butterflies, and bees."

(Nora said he "jabbered" all day long in the cabin.)
Mrs. Van Buren very soon promoted the careful little Chinaman to
have all the care of the beautiful living rooms and the quaint old parlors.
He brought the flowers and admitted the visitors. He did his work in
admirable taste. It shed a kind of good influence through the house, to
see the little fellow in his fine linens flitting around, so careful was he
to keep all things in speckless order.
The chief drawback was that he still used "flowery talk"; to him the
world was a field of poetry, and he spoke in figures whenever he forgot
himself. Mrs. Van Buren was still Madam the Mandarin, and he called
Lucy the "Lotus of the Shining Sea." He received many reprimands for
the use of these Oriental forms of speech; but found it hard to harness
his thoughts to track-horses, especially after the June days began to fill
the gardens with orioles and humming-birds and roses.
"Why not let me talk after nature?" little Sky-High used to beg.
One day the governor of the State came to visit the Van Burens.
Sky-High spoke of him as the "Mandarin of the Golden Dome." He had
several times been in Boston to see Consul Bradley, and knew the State
House.
In the evening Mrs. Van Buren gave him his morning orders. "You will
call the governor to-morrow at seven o'clock. You will knock on his
door, and you must use plain language! You must not say, 'O Mandarin
of the Golden Dome!' We do not use flowery terms of address in this
country. Mind, Sky-High, use plain language."
The little Chinaman feared that he would be "flowery" in spite of all his
care. So he consulted with Irish Nora in the blooming hours of the
morning.
"What shall I say when I knock on the governor's chamber-door?"
asked he earnestly. "What shall I say in the plain American language?"
"What shall you say? Say, 'Get up!'"

"Is that all?" asked he doubtfully.
"Well, if you want to say more, say, 'Get up! The world is