"But I said you were to fight quietly, not yell the house down. Now I forbid you to fight at all, do you understand?"
"You too, Lo San," said Errington. "No more of it, or off you go."
"My fightee he inside," said Lo San.
"My callee he plenty bad namee--inside," said Chin Tai.
"Well, what you do inside is nothing to me," said Burroughs, repressing a smile. "Perhaps if you take care to behave outside, you'll be friends inside by and by."
There was no more fighting; the peace of the house was no more disturbed; but while China boys are China boys, Lo San and Chin Tai will never cease to look jealously upon each other as long as they serve two masters whom they equally respect.
Some three weeks after the escape from Su Fing's yamen, a pleasant little party sat at table in the dining-room of Mr. Burroughs' house at Shanghai. Mr. Burroughs and his family were there; the only guests were Pierce Errington and Mr. Ting. They were all very merry. Four of the party heard the full story of the flying boat's adventures for the first time, and as Errington had a pretty art of humorous narrative, there was much laughter at the tale of Reinhardt's moustache and the vicissitudes in the career of Chung Pi.
When Mrs. Burroughs and her daughter--whom Errington looked on very kindly--had left the men to themselves, Mr. Ting put on his spectacles.
"Look out!" Errington whispered to Burroughs. "There's something in the wind when Tingy puts on the goggles."
Mr. Ting glanced benevolently round the table, his eyes resting with peculiar intensity on Errington--the old Pidge whom everybody loved, with not a care upon his clear, fresh countenance. Lighting a cigarette, the Chinaman said quietly--