They started through the streets now, in search of him, their eager eyes gazing in all directions. Two of his little playmates stood on a doorstep, and they inquired of them if they had seen him. Yes, they had seen him early in the afternoon. He had passed them, carrying his umbrella.
The distracted parents searched until the dark night fell and the great dragon lanterns were lighted in the balcony of the joss house near by.
The joss house!—there was an idea! Why had they not thought of it before? They would go there at once, and supplicate the god, that they might find their baby. They ascended the long flights of stairs until they were right in the room with the joss. There were little bowls of ashes full of punks, to be burned before the god, and the odor of incense filled the air as they lighted them and waved them before the joss.
Sing Kee threw many of the little carved prayer-sticks into the air, too, and when they fell, looked at them eagerly, evidently seeing something about them which pleased him, for he smiled, and said to the timid little mother: “They say we find him to-mollow—we go home now.”
They went home, but it was not home to-night without the dear little round, saucy face on the hard pillow, the patter of the little sandalled feet on the floors, and the click of the little chopsticks. There was no sleep for them that night. They had told the Chinatown police of their loss, but no clue had yet been reported.
Early next morning they started out again, on their weary search. It was the first day of the New Year, but they had not dreamed they would celebrate it in this way, as with heavy hearts they picked their way through the narrow streets, glancing in every direction, and up at the flower-laden balconies, with the candles burning for the joss.
Meanwhile the little Sing Ho had stood in fright, and looked around him, in the darkness of the hallway. Where were the pretty ladies? Had he only dreamed he saw them?
Suddenly he heard a high-pitched but sweet voice somewhere above him, saying: “Where are you, little boy? Come up the other stairs.”
The other stairs? where were they? He had supposed that he was at the top now, but on looking around he saw still another flight of steps, and gladly running to them he started on upward again, as fast as his tired little legs could carry him. When he reached the top, some one opened a door, cautiously, and calling out “Yap loi le!” (Come in!) reached out a beautiful jewelled hand, and drew him softly within the room.
Oh, how lovely it all was! There was a chatter of women’s voices in high-bred, nasal tones, and the room was warm, and smelled of incense. One very pretty little lady drew him to her as tenderly as a mother, and said to him in the sweetest tones: “Do not fear, little one! I will find mo chun for you. Where do you live?”