"You are a mind reader, Mr. Donnegan."
"No more of a mind reader than a Chinaman is."
"Ah, they are great readers of mind, my friend."
Donnegan grinned, and at this the colonel frowned.
"A great and mysterious people, sir. I keep evidences of them always about me. Look!"
He swept the shaft of the reading light up and it fell upon a red vase against the yellow hangings. Even Donnegan's inexperienced eye read a price into that shimmering vase.
"Queer color," he said.
"Dusty claret. Ah, they have the only names for their colors. Think! Peach bloom—liquid dawn—ripe cherry—oil green—green of powdered tea—blue of the sky after rain—what names for color! What other land possesses such a tongue that goes straight to the heart!"
The colonel waved his faultless hands and then dropped them back upon the book with the tenderness of a benediction.
"And their terms for texture—pear's rind—lime peel—millet seed! Do not scoff at China, Mr. Donnegan. She is the fairy godmother, and we are the poor children."