"One of their pagodas," answered Lihoa, "and down there is the school in which one of my nephews is being instructed in the learning of the West. The white-faced women with the long veils brought him up because my sister exposed him when a baby. They found and cared for him in the great white house where a light burns in the window; there they bring up the children which our women are not able to care for. Let us go down and see what is going on at this time of the night."
Lohe and Lihoa went down to the long low orphanage in which the Sisters of Mercy care for a hundred or more foundlings. The shutters were drawn, but they found a tiny hole through which they could peep. In the dormitory they saw four rows of small white beds, all spread with beautiful white linen, and in each little bed lay a child. The most of them were asleep, but a few were crying and fretting—for Chinese babies have quite as many troubles as American children. Some of the nuns were walking up and down between the rows of beds, lovingly tucking up the fretful little beings, giving the bottle to some, and rocking others with the utmost patience. Hardly did they quiet one before another began to whimper, and so it went on. Shaking their heads the two Chinamen slipped away. They had seen for themselves the love and patience with which the Sisters care for these poor deserted infants.
"I thought we were going to find them putting the children's eyes out," said Lohe, "when I heard the cries in there. These women show greater love for these babes than their own mothers."
"Yes, yes," answered Lihoa. "It is wonderful. I wish our priests would do for our children what the foreigners do for them."
Without further delay Lihoa went to Nona, the fish dealer, who lived in one of the alleys near the harbor. All night long he watched and waited for the fishermen who came to him from all parts of the island. Complaining as he took what Lihoa had brought, he weighed the fish and poured the oysters out in a heap to estimate their value, then handed the old Chinaman a tael ($1.50) and several sapecks.
"What? Is that all you are going to give me, when you know that the sum must be divided among twenty families?" complained Lihoa. "To-morrow morning in the market you will get three times that amount for the beautiful fish."
"Well—and why not? When I take inferior things to the market, I have to content myself with a small price.—Not a sapeck more for you," answered the dealer.
"Now then, Nona, don't be surprised if you get no more fish from us. We are going into a more profitable business. We are going to the distant Goldland, and shall come back rich men."
"What? What do you mean, you fools?" cried Nona. "Do you want to be drowned? Well, if you get back with whole skins you'll be doing well, and no matter how much gold you get, the rich Natse will have it all before you are through with him."
"As far as drowning is concerned, we could drown easily in the business in which we are now engaged, and as to Natse's getting our gold, we'll attend to that." With these words Lihoa put the money in his pocket and started with his followers to the harbor, where, behind one of the warehouses, they laid down and took a nap.