LUCY'S CUP OF TEA.
Mr. Van Buren's home was on Milton Hill. It overlooked Boston and the harbor. The upper windows commanded a glorious view in the morning. Before it glittered the sea with its white sails, and behind it rose the Blue Hills with their green orchards and woods. The house was colonial, with gables and cupola, and was surrounded by hour-glass elms, arbors, and evergreen trees. It had been built by Mr. Van Buren's father in the days of the China trade and of the primitive mandarin merchant, Hoqua.
Mr. Van Buren, a tea-merchant of Boston, received his goods through merchant vessels, and not through his own ships as his father had done.
The next morning Mrs. Van Buren went down early into her kitchen to assign Sky-High his work.
Nora, in a loud whisper that the birds in the apple-boughs might have heard, informed Mrs. Van Buren that the new Chinese servant was "no good as a sweeper," and asked what he did with his pigtail when he slept. "It must take him a good part of to-morrer to comb his hair, it is that long," she said. "And wouldn't you better use him up-stairs for an errand-boy altogether now? Sure, you wouldn't be after teaching him any cooking at all?" Nora was an old servant and had many privileges of speech.
Mrs. Van Buren smiled, and arranged that little Sky-High should wash and iron clothes in the cabin under the blooming trees, at the end of the arbor.
"And if you learn well," said she, "I may let you tend the door, and wait upon the table, and keep the rooms in order."
"And then you will be up-stairs," said little Lucy, "where it is very pleasant."
"And now, Sky-High, tell me how it is that you can speak English so well," said Mrs. Van Buren, as they stood in the cabin, where the prospect of solitude seemed to please the boy. A gleam of something like mischief appeared on little Sky-High's face.
"And, Madame de Mandarin," said he, "I speak French too. Parlez-vous Français, Mademoiselle Lucy?" he added rapidly, turning to the little American girl. "Pardonne, Madame la Mandarin!"