Mrs. Spring Fragrance
reflect credit on the school at the examinations. On one occasion she
requested her to say some verses which the little Chinese girl could
repeat as well as any young American, and with more expression than
most. Great was the teacher’s chagrin when Ku Yum hung her head and said
only: “Me ’shamed, me ’shamed!”
“Poor little thing,” murmured the bishop’s wife. “She is too shy to
recite in public.”
But Miss Mason, knowing that of all children Ku Yum was the least
troubled with shyness, was exceedingly annoyed.
Ku Yum had been with Miss Mason about a year when she became convinced
that some steps would have to be taken to discipline the child, for
after school hours she simply ran wild on the streets of Chinatown, with
boys for companions. She felt that she had a duty to perform towards the
motherless little girl; and as the father, when apprised of the fact
that his daughter was growing up in ignorance of all home duties, and,
worse than that, shared the sports of boy children on the street, only
shrugged his shoulders and drawled: “Too bad! Too bad!” she determined
to act.
She was interested in Ku Yum’s case the president of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Children, the matron of the Rescue Home, and
the most influential ministers, and the result, after a month’s work,
that an order went forth from the Superior Court of the State
decreeing that Ku Yum, the child of Ten Suie, should be removed from the
custody of her father, and, under the auspices of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Children, be put into a home for Chinese girls
in San Francisco.
Her object being accomplished, strange to say, Miss Mason did not
experience that peaceful content which usually follows a benevolent
action. Instead, the question as to whether, after all, it was right,
under the circumstances, to deprive a father of the society of his
child, and a child of the love and care of a parent, disturbed her mind,
morning, noon, and night. What had previously seemed her distinct duty
no longer appeared so, and she began to wish with all her heart that she
had not interfered in the matter.
II
Ku Yum had not been seen for weeks and those who were deputed to bring
her into the sheltering home were unable to find her. It was suspected
that the little thing purposely kept out of the way—no difficult matter,
all Chinatown being in sympathy with her and arrayed against Miss Mason.
Where formerly the teacher had met with smiles and pleased greetings,
she now beheld averted faces and downcast eyes, and her school had
within a week dwindled from twenty-four scholars to four. Verily, though
acting with the best of intentions, she had shown a lack of diplomacy.
It was about nine o’clock in the evening. She had been visiting little
Lae Choo, who was lying low with typhoid fever. As she wended her way
home through Chinatown, she did not feel at all easy in mind; indeed, as
she passed one of the most unsavory corners and observed some men frown
and mutter among themselves as they recognized her, she lost her dignity
in a little run. As she stopped to take breath, she felt her skirt
pulled from behind and heard a familiar little voice say:
“Teacher, be you afraid?”
“Oh, Ku Yum,” she exclaimed, “is that you?” Then she added reprovingly:
“Do you think it is right for a little Chinese girl to be out alone at
this time of the night?”
“I be not alone,” replied the little creature, and in the gloom Miss
Mason, could distinguish behind her two boyish figures.
She shook her head.
“Ku Yum, will you promise me that you will try to be a good little
girl?” she asked.
Ku Yum answered solemnly:
“Ku Yum _never_ be a good girl.”
Her heart hardened. After all, it was best that the child should be
placed where she would be compelled to behave herself.
“Come, see my father,” said Ku Yum pleadingly.
Her voice was soft, and her expression was so subdued that the teacher
could hardly believe that the moment before she had defiantly stated
that she would never be a good girl. She paused irresolutely. Should she
make one more appeal to the parent to make her a promise which would be
a good excuse for restraining the order of the Court? Ah, if he only
would, and she only could prevent the carrying out of that order!
They found Ten Suie among his curiosities, smoking a very long pipe with
a very small, ivory bowl. He calmly surveyed the teacher through a pair
of gold-rimmed goggles, and under such scrutiny it was hard indeed for
her to broach the subject that was on her mind. However, after admiring
the little carved animals, jars, vases, bronzes, dishes, pendants,
charms, and snuff-boxes displayed in his handsome showcase, she took
courage.
“Mr. Ten Suie,” she began, “I have come to speak to you about Ku Yum.”
Ten Suie laid down his pipe and leaned over the counter. Under his calm
exterior some strong excitement was working, for his eyes glittered
exceedingly.
“Perhaps you speak too much about Ku Yum alleady,” he said. “Ku Yum be
my child. I bling him up, as I please. Now, teacher, I tell you
something. One, two, three, four, five, seven, eight, nine years go by,
I have five boy. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven years go, I
have four boy. One, two, three, four, five, six years go by, I have one
boy. Every year for three year evil spirit come, look at my boy, and
take him. Well, one, two, three, four, five, six years go by, I see but
one boy, he four year old. I say to me: Ten Suie, evil spirit be
jealous. I be ’flaid he want my one boy. I dless him like one girl. Evil
spirit think him one girl, and go away; no want girl.”
Ten Suie ceased speaking, and settled back into his seat.
For some moments Miss Mason stood uncomprehending. Then the full meaning
of Ten Suie’s words dawned upon her, and she turned to Ku Yum, and
taking the child’s little hand in hers, said:
“Goodbye, Ku Yum. Your father, by passing you off as a girl, thought to
keep an evil spirit away from you; but just by that means he brought
another, and one which nearly took you from him too.”
“Goodbye, teacher,” said Ku Yum, smiling wistfully. “I never be good
girl, but perhaps I be good boy.”
PAT AND PAN
I
They lay there, in the entrance to the joss house, sound asleep in each
other’s arms. Her tiny face was hidden upon his bosom and his white,
upturned chin rested upon her black, rosetted head.
It was that white chin which caused the passing Mission woman to pause
and look again at the little pair. Yes, it was a white boy and a little
Chinese girl; he, about five, she, not more than three years old.
“Whose is that boy?” asked the Mission woman of the peripatetic vender
of Chinese fruits and sweetmeats.
“That boy! Oh, him is boy of Lum Yook that make the China gold ring and
bracelet.”
“But he is white.”
“Yes, him white; but all same, China boy. His mother, she not have any
white flend, and the wife of Lum Yook give her lice and tea, so when she
go to the land of spilit, she give her boy to the wife of Lum Yook.
Lady, you want buy lichi?”
While Anna Harrison was extracting a dime from her purse the black,
rosetted head slowly turned and a tiny fist began rubbing itself into a
tiny face.
“Well, chickabiddy, have you had a nice nap?”
“Tjo ho! tjo ho!”
The black eyes gazed solemnly and disdainfully at the stranger.
“She tell you to be good,” chuckled the old man.
“Oh, you quaint little thing!”
The quaint little thing hearing herself thus apostrophized, turned
herself around upon the bosom of the still sleeping boy and, reaching
her arms up to his neck, buried her face again, under his chin. This, of
course, awakened him. He sat up and stared bewilderedly at the Mission
woman.
“What is the boy’s name?” she asked, noting his gray eyes and rosy skin.
His reply, though audible, was wholly unintelligible to the American
woman.
“He talk only Chinese talk,” said the old man.
Anna Harrison was amazed. A white boy in America talking only Chinese
talk! She placed her bag of lichis beside him and was amused to see the
little girl instantly lean over her companion and possess herself of it.
The boy made no attempt to take it from her, and the little thing opened
the bag and cautiously peeped in. What she saw evoked a chirrup of
delight. Quickly she brought forth one of the browny-red fruit nuts,
crushed and pulled off its soft shell. But to the surprise of the
Mission woman, instead of putting it into her own mouth, she thrust the
sweetish, dried pulp into that of her companion. She repeated this
operation several times, then cocking her little head on one side,
asked:
“Ho ’m ho? Is it good or bad?”
“Ho! ho!” answered the boy, removing several pits from his mouth and
shaking his head to signify that he had had enough. Whereupon the little
girl tasted herself of the fruit.
“Pat! Pan! Pat! Pan!” called a woman’s voice, and a sleek-headed,
kindly-faced matron in dark blue pantalettes and tunic, wearing double
hooped gold earrings, appeared around the corner. Hearing her voice, the
boy jumped up with a merry laugh and ran out into the street. The little
girl more seriously and slowly followed him.
“Him mother!” informed the lichi man.
II
When Anna Harrison, some months later, opened her school for white and
Chinese children in Chinatown, she determined that Pat, the adopted son
of Lum Yook, the Chinese jeweller, should learn to speak his mother
tongue. For a white boy to grow up as a Chinese was unthinkable. The
second time she saw him, it was some kind of a Chinese holiday, and he
was in great glee over a row of red Chinese candles and punk which he
was burning on the curb of the street, in company with a number of
Chinese urchins. Pat’s candle was giving a brighter and bigger flame
than any of the others, and he was jumping up and down with his legs
doubled under him from the knees like an india-rubber ball, while Pan,
from the doorstep of her father’s store, applauded him in vociferous,
infantile Chinese.
Miss Harrison laid her hand upon the boy’s shoulder and spoke to him. It
had not been very difficult for her to pick up a few Chinese phrases.
Would he not like to come to her school and see some pretty pictures?
Pat shook his ruddy curls and looked at Pan. Would Pan come too? Yes,
Pan would. Pan’s memory was good, and so were lichis and shredded
cocoanut candy.
Of course Pan was too young to go to school—a mere baby; but if Pat
could not be got without Pan, why then Pan must come too. Lum Yook and
his wife, upon being interviewed, were quite willing to have Pat learn
English. The foster-father could speak a little of the language himself;
but as he used it only when in business or when speaking to Americans,
Pat had not benefited thereby. However, he was more eager than otherwise
to have Pat learn “the speech of his ancestors,” and promised that he
would encourage the little ones to practise “American” together when at
home.
So Pat and Pan went to the Mission school, and for the first time in
their lives suffered themselves to be divided, for Pat had to sit with
the boys and tiny Pan had a little red chair near Miss Harrison, beside
which were placed a number of baby toys. Pan was not supposed to learn,
only to play.
But Pan did learn. In a year’s time, although her talk was more broken
and babyish, she had a better English vocabulary than had Pat. Moreover,
she could sing hymns and recite verses in a high, shrill voice; whereas
Pat, though he tried hard enough, poor little fellow, was unable to
memorize even a sentence. Naturally, Pat did not like school as well as
did Pan, and it was only Miss Harrison’s persistent ambition for him
that kept him there.