“Well, there is no use challenging your fate. There is no need for you to act, unless the boy is in danger.”
“Oh, no, none at all,” I replied unblushingly.
“And we'll hope that he will be kept safe until the danger has passed.”
I hoped so devoutly, and said as much. And after a few more words, Mrs. Knapp led me, feebly resisting, to Mrs. Bowser.
“Oh, Mr. Wilton,” said that charming dame, “my heart goes pit-a-pat when I see you, for it's almost like being among those dreadful highbinders again, and how could you bring the horrid creatures down on our dear Luella, when she might have been captured and sold into slavery under our very eyes.”
“Ah, Mrs. Bowser,” said I gallantly, “I ought to have known what to expect on bringing such a temptation before our Chinese friends. I do not see how you escaped being carried off.”
“Oh, now, Mr. Wilton,” exclaimed Mrs. Bowser, retreating behind her fan; “you are really too flattering. I must say, though, that some of them did make dreadful eyes at me, till I felt that I should faint. And do they really hold their slave-market right in the middle of San Francisco? And why doesn't the president break it up, and what is the Emancipation Proclamation for, I should like to know?”
“Madam,” I replied, “the slave-market is sub rosa, but I advise you to keep out of Chinatown. Some temptations are irresistible.”
Mrs. Bowser giggled behind her fan and was too pleased to speak, and I took advantage of the lull to excuse myself and make a dive into the next room where I espied Luella.
“Yes, you may sit down here,” she said carelessly. “I want to be amused.”