"And who goes with you on these visits, Sky-High?"
An attack of blinking seized little Sky-High. "The consul, he goes."
Mrs. Van Buren drove into town next day. While there she made a call upon the Chinese consular agent. Lucy was with her. Consul Bradley appeared to have little fresh information to give.
"The boy's father is a good man," he said. "Like the wise fathers everywhere he craves knowledge for his son. I promised him Sky-High should see something of Boston, and I do for him all I can."
"Mother," said Lucy on the way home, "we might be nicer to Sky-High. Listen!"
Her mother listened to Lucy's plan, and gave permission.
When Lucy got home she said to Sky-High, "We want you to go to church with us; and Charlie and I want you to go with us to our Sunday school. There are Chinese Sunday schools in Boston, but we wish you to be in ours."
"I will have to wear my queue, and my flowing clothes, Lucy," said the boy.
"But, Sky-High, you can braid your braid close, and wind it around your head, and put on your black tunic, and you shall sit in our pew. Besides, anyway, it would be proper for a person of China to wear his braid down his back after the custom of his country."