An Ching did not reply, but next day, when Nelly told her that she had been awake and heard the talking in the next room, she said:
'No one cares for me here, and I am of no use in the world. If I can get away I shall try to come to you in Peking.'
'Oh, do,' said Nelly, delighted. 'How can it be managed?'
'I don't know. We must think it all out. I am not as stupid as Hung Li thinks,' replied An Ching. 'If I were sure that your father and mother would take me as a servant, I'd manage it.'
'I am certain they will when they hear how kind you have been to me,' said Nelly. 'You shall come as my maid to England; but you can't do much, can you? You don't know about our ways; but never mind, I'll teach you. Wouldn't you like to learn some English to begin with?'
And Nelly at once began to give English lessons to An Ching, and Little Yi sometimes condescended to listen. They had no books, and it was only by repeating words and short sentences over and over again that anything could be done. Nelly was much bothered when she was asked the names of things that do not exist in English, such as the hair ornaments worn by the Chinese women. She was obliged to invent names for them. For instance, the embroidered band a Chinese girl wears as soon as she is old enough not to have her hair shaved in front Nelly called a 'hair-belt,' and the curved, flat ornament sticking out behind An Ching's head she christened 'head-protector.' Nelly was not quite sure that it was good English to invent names, but she said to herself, 'The Chinese call a tea-cosy "a tea-pot's hat" and a sewing machine "an iron tailor."' Greatly to Nelly's surprise and sorrow, there were times when she could not remember the names of things in English. She was, in fact, beginning to forget her own language. One day, when it had taken her a very long time to remember that 'wa-tzu' meant stockings, she was in great trouble, until Little Yi reminded her that she had always called them 'wa-tzu' in Peking. 'I've often heard you say that and lots of other things in Chinese when you were speaking English,' added Little Yi, decidedly.
Nelly next set to work to teach An Ching to sing hymns, and succeeded pretty well, as far as the tune was concerned, with the help of Little Yi, who, having often listened with all her ears to the singing in the Legation chapel on Sunday mornings, knew some of the airs quite well. An Ching and the two children used to go through the round gateway into the inner court, and while Nelly sang the words very distinctly, An Ching and Little Yi hummed the tune. 'Art thou weary' was their favourite hymn.