“You want boy?” said a mild, insinuating voice, and the little fellow in blue stood by us with his head on one side, and his black, currant-like eyes twinkling in his yellow face. The black close cap which he had seemed to wear had disappeared, for it had only been his curled-up pigtail, which now hung down his back nearly to his heels. “You want boy?” he said again.
He was so close to us now that I could see, in spite of his being only about the stature of a lad of thirteen, that he must be a man of thirty at least, and in spite of his quaint aspect, there was something pleasant and good-humoured about his countenance that was attractive.
“Want a boy?” said Esau, rather roughly. “He’s got one. Can’t you see him? Me!”
The Chinaman nodded and smiled at Esau, as if he admired his fresh-coloured smooth face and curly fair hair. Then showing his teeth a little, he went on—
“Me speak ploper Inglis allee same Melican man. Velly stlong. Washee. Cally big pack allee over countly. Cookee. Velly good cookee. Make nicee blead. Hot fire, plenty tea.”
“No,” I said, smiling at his earnestness. “We don’t want a servant.”
“Yes; want boy. Quong. Me Quong, talk ploper Inglis. No talkee pidgin.”
“Get out!” cried Esau. “Who ever heard of talking pigeon! You mean a parrot.”
“Hey? Pallot. Yes, talkee pallot—pletty polly what o’clock?”
“Yes, that’s right!” cried Esau.