"Of course, my dear, now I make a lady of you; you are so pretty, Jenny."
He went out of the room and told Sam to make a "plenty hot" bath in the bedroom. And he put out some clean clothes for her, which he took from a locked cupboard. Some were new. Most of them had been got for a Haida girl who had died of consumption two years before. But Quin had forgotten her. He spoke to Sam when the "boy" brought in the bath and water.
"Sam, you no fool, I think," he began.
"That same my tinkee, Sir," said Sam.
"I bring another klootchman here, Sam."
"Where you catchee?" asked Sam with great interest.
"You mind your own pidgin," said Quin. "Now look, Sam, I no wantshee anyone know who she is. When they ask you, you say she white woman, allo same wife, from San Francisco. If you tinkee that not true, that all right, but if you say so I fire you and give you no dolla. While she stay here and no one know who she is I give you five more dolla, moon-pidgin, every month. Now you savvy?"
Sam stood with his head on one side all the time his master spoke. He looked as intelligent as a sharp Chinaman can look, and he answered with decision and a perfect gravity.
"My savvy that plenty! You catchee one litty gal and no wantshee man savvy. Dat light, I plenty savvy. My say she numpa one pletty litty gal from San Flancisco. I savvy plenty and if litty gal stay you givee my mo' five dolla moon-pidgin. My savvy plenty. Now you washee her?"
"Fill the bath, you damn fool," said Quin.