Little Sky-High | Page 4

Mandarin of Milton!" said the glittering little fellow, bending. "My ancestors have heard of the mandarins of Boston and Milton, even in the days of Hoqua."
"Hoqua?" Mr. Van Buren looked at the boy with interest, "You know of Hoqua?"
"Who is Hoqua?" asked Mrs. Van Buren.
Mr. Van Buren turned to her, "I will tell you later."
"Hoqua, madam," said Sky-High, bowing to his mistress, "was the great merchant mandarin of Canton in the time of the opening of that port to all countries."
How did a Chinese servant know anything of Hoqua? This was the question that puzzled Mr. Van Buren. "Sky-High, how many people have you in your country?" he asked.
"It is said four hundred million."
"We have only seventy millions here, Sky-High."
"I have been told," said Sky-High.
"And who is ruler over all your people?" asked Mr. Van Buren.
"The Celestial Emperor, the Son of Heaven, the Brother of the Sun and Moon, the Dweller in Rooms of Gold, the Light of Life, the Father of the Nations."
"You fill me with wonder, Sky-High. We have a plain President. 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?"
"To their ancestors! With them they live among the lotus blooms."
"We will excuse you now," said Mr. Van Buren to Sky-High. "You have answered intelligently, according to your knowledge."
The kitchen-boy bowed himself out without turning his back towards any one, describing many glittering angles, and waving his fan. He looked like something vanishing, a bit of fireworks going out.
As he reached the stair, the little white cat sprang from Lucy's arms, and skipped swiftly after the curious inmate of the kitchen. The long, swinging braid was a temptation. The last glimpse Charles and Lucy had was of an embroidered sleeve as Sky-High reached backward and caught the kitten to his shoulder, and bound her fast with his queue.
Charlie clapped his hands. He thought there would be fun in the house. He knew he should like Sky-High. As they went up-stairs he said to Lucy, "The little Chinaman was a heathen, and father was a missionary."
Mr. Van Buren heard him, and called him back. "The little Chinaman was a new book," said he, "and your father was reading. See that you treat the boy well."

III.
LUCY'S CUP OF TEA.
Mr. Van Buren's home was on Milton Hill. It overlooked Boston and the harbor. The upper windows commanded a glorious view in the morning. Before it glittered the sea with its white sails, and behind it rose the Blue Hills with their green orchards and woods. The house was colonial, with gables and cupola, and was surrounded by hour-glass elms, arbors, and evergreen trees. It had been built by Mr. Van Buren's father in the days of the China trade and of the primitive mandarin merchant, Hoqua.
Mr. Van Buren, a tea-merchant of Boston, received his goods through merchant vessels, and not through his own ships as his father had done.
The next morning Mrs. Van Buren went down early into her kitchen to assign Sky-High his work.
Nora, in a loud whisper that the birds in the apple-boughs might have heard, informed Mrs. Van Buren that the new Chinese servant was "no good as a sweeper," and asked what he did with his pigtail when he slept. "It must take him a good part of to-morrer to comb his hair, it is that long," she said. "And wouldn't you better use him up-stairs for an errand-boy altogether now? Sure, you wouldn't be after teaching him any cooking at all?" Nora was an old servant and had many privileges of speech.
Mrs. Van Buren smiled, and arranged that little Sky-High should wash and iron clothes in the cabin under the blooming trees, at the end of the arbor.
"And if you learn well," said she, "I may let you tend the door, and wait upon the table, and keep the rooms in order."
"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. _Parlez-vous Fran?ais_, Mademoiselle Lucy?" he added rapidly, turning to the little American girl. "Pardonne, Madame la Mandarin!"
"Sky-High will not say 'Mandarin' any more," said Mrs. Van Buren. "There are no mandarins in this country, and when Sky-High is called into the