And Hong smiled inwardly.
BONE OF MY BONE
BONE OF MY BONE
THE amah had caught Dorothy and hauled her away to be washed, seeing which, Master Jack quickly made his escape from the verandah to the garden, and through the hot scent-laden evening air to the gate-house, where stood his chum Hong leaning at the door smoking a rank native cigarette rolled in an elongated cone of buff-coloured paper. Hong’s wife had just finished piously burning “joss papers,” and as she gazed at the last remaining sparks and light charred cinders that floated upwards in the still air, she stuck a few incense sticks in the crevices of the brick pavement before the door, and retired to the house to continue her unending household industries.
Hong’s placid face beamed at the approach of his master’s son, and setting a low bamboo stool he begged Jack to be seated.
“Tell us a story, Hong. Tell us what you did after you escaped. Did you then go and fight?”
“Not at once, Excellency,” replied Hong, squatting on his heels and knocking the ash off his cigarette. “After I ran away from Chin Wen Fu, having been released by my friends from the ropes and pegs that bound me down, I travelled fast without resting, in order to put as great a distance between my miserable, insignificant self and the far-reaching and all-powerful tao-tai as possible. I was, however, without money, and existed but badly on the charity of strangers, and it soon looked likely that I should die of hunger, when by great good chance I fell in with the theatrical company in which I had performed, they also having fled hot-foot from Chin Wen Fu and the tao-tai’s wrath. So I joined their company and became an actor.”
“I should think that was good fun. Father and mother acted here last winter—that was splendid.”