It happened this morning! That man Aunt Gwendolin thought would be so sure to know that I was the Yellow Pearl, came to the house, and was ushered into my uncle's den by the maid, a few moments after I had been sent in there to have the "talk" with him which was spoken about the night before.
"He is a tall man, very, very white," were my thoughts regarding him, as he bowed politely before me, when my uncle introduced us; and I suppose his thoughts regarding me were: "She is a short woman, very, very, yellow."
He left after a few moments' conversation with my uncle; and turning to me the latter said, "That gentleman who has just gone is professor of ethnology in the State University. He knows all about the peculiarities of all the peoples and tribes that ever have graced or disgraced the face of this planet we call the world—— Has your aunt told you that she thinks it better that you should say nothing about your Chinese ancestry?" he added hastily and awkwardly.
"Have the Chinese done anything disgraceful?" I asked him.
"No, no, I don't suppose they really have," he answered with an air of annoyance. "A girl like you cannot understand; you had better simply follow instructions. I hope it will not be necessary to mention this subject again," he added meaningly.
I could not mistake him; I must not dare tell Professor Ballington or any one else in this great country that my mother was a Chinese woman.
In the afternoon Aunt Gwendolin took me down into the shops of the city, "to select an outfit," she said.
We stood for hours, it seemed to me, over counters laden with silks and muslins of every colour in the rainbow. Aunt Gwendolin held the various shades up against my face to see which best became my "Spanish complexion." This was said, I suppose, for the ears of the sales-people, and the fashionable customers standing around.
When selections were made among the goods, I was taken to the establishment of a "Parisienne modiste," where I was pinched, puckered, and pulled until I was nearly numb. A sort of a steel waist was put on me, which my aunt and the modiste called a "corset," and was so tightly pulled I could scarcely breathe.