"This is Wong," and no more. He led the boy behind the paling that enclosed our bathing-quarters, plucking, as he walked, a sponge and a cake of soap, which happened to be mine. Then I heard:
"Take it off!" And again: "Take it off, I say!"
Apparently he was obeyed. Then:
"Take that off, too; yes, that, too!" Evidently the boy had but two garments on, for considerable splashing took the place of peremptory commands. By and by they came out together and, still hand in hand, passed out of the compound. In half an hour the Irishman came back.
"I've just taken Wong down to Poole's," he said, still gravely, "to get him a new suit of clothes."
"The trousers were too long, and Wong objected. Poole told him that trousers were worn long this season, and Wong compromised by rolling them up. He'll be here by and by."
By and by Wong came back resplendent in new blouse, new trousers, new shoes and socks. On his breast was sewed a big white piece of cotton in the shape of a shamrock, and on the shamrock was printed this:
WONG
Cup-bearer and Page in Waiting
to
—— ——, Esquire.
Straightway was Wong an habitué of the compound and straightway his education began. Wong was quick to learn.