'Who is An Ching?'
'She is Hung Li's wife,' Nelly replied, 'and is very kind to me. Hung Li and Ku Nai-nai don't care for her. They make fun of her and call her stupid, but she isn't, although Little Yi can cook and help with the work better than she can. Her feet are very small, so of course she can't run about much. She is pretty, too. Her skin is almost white, and she can embroider beautifully, and I want her to come and be my maid and learn English. Mayn't I tell her about you? Little Yi might let it out, but I don't think An Ching would.'
'No,' said the man. 'Tell no one yet. I will talk to my family about it, but I don't think we can take An Ching. She belongs to Hung Li, but you don't. I will come again to-morrow or the next day when you are alone. Look here,' he continued, thrusting his right hand up his left sleeve and producing some red paper, which he threw down; 'pick this up quickly and hide it.'
Nelly did so at once, thrusting the precious paper into her sleeve.
'When you are alone,' he continued, 'tear off a bit of paper and throw it over the wall. If any one comes, and you hear me on the ladder, begin to talk loudly, and I shall keep away. Could you be here to-morrow morning while the women are brushing their hair?'
'Oh yes,' replied Nelly, delighted. 'I could easily come. Little Yi likes to watch the hairdressing, and I don't. I am often here alone then.'
'Very well, expect me to-morrow morning. I will go now.'
'Stop,' said Nelly. 'How is it that you can sing that hymn? Are you sure you can?'
The man smiled, and in a low voice began: