“Why, I live with mo chun and ho chun,” he said.
“Where do they live?” she inquired.
“I no know—they live at my home—and mo chun she make me velly pletty blouse.”
Poor little boy! so he could not give them any clue, then, by which they might find his parents. Well, they would have to wait, and do the best they could under the circumstances. They tried to make him forget his sorrow for a while, and showed him many wonderful things. In the centre of the room was a table, all arranged for the New Year, and on it were great bowls of China lilies, and Chinese lemons and oranges. Then there was a polished tray, holding all kinds of candy and nuts. The windows were a perfect mass of lily and almond blossom, and peacock’s feathers were everywhere staring, with their green eyes. Outside was the balcony, from which the ladies had first spoken to the little lost boy, and on it were many big dragon lanterns, whose soft light fell upon the flowers, and made it look like fairyland.
They served tea out on the balcony, and gave Sing Ho the dearest little cup, and cakes, and plenty of watermelon seed to nibble at, and everything that he loved, except—his dear mama. When the breezes began to blow too roughly and sway the dragon lanterns, they decided to put the little stranger to bed. This was the worst moment of all. How could he go to bed without his dear mother’s kiss? Oh, how his lonely little heart ached and ached, and he just had to let the big tears come, and roll down his cheeks. He didn’t want to be rude to the pretty lady, but—there was no one like his mo chun. Finally he did go to sleep, though, and when he awoke it was the first day of the New Year.
He was waited upon like a little king, with a big bowl of rice and ivory chopsticks, nice hot tea, and little almond cakes—everything that one could wish, but—it did not take the ache out of his heart. After breakfast he and the beautiful lady went
His own beautiful mo chun