“I heap solly! I velly solly! I no mean hurt lady. I no do him any more. You no tell policeman Chief! You no tell him, Bossee Man Jim, Bossee Man Phil, Lady Missee Pedelston. Ah Sing he velly solly. Heap much plenty velly solly!” He grovelled and cringed.
“What you do that for anyway? you slit-eyed son of Confucius!”
“You know, Bossee Jim;––you know all about Chinaman. Lady, she sweepee bloom all over Sing. Bloom he sweepee up dirt. She pointem bloom; she touch Ah Sing with bloom. Allee same call Ah Sing dirty pig,––see! Me no dirty––me no dirty pig.
“Anytime pointem bloom, somebody b’long me die. One time, white man hit me bloom,––my lil boy he die same day away China. Pointem bloom Chinaman, somebody b’long him die evely time.
“Now maybe my wifee she die––maybe my blother, maybe my mama. I no savvy yet! Ah Sing get heap mad,––see!
“You no pointem bloom Chinaman any more, Missee Eileen. Makem heap angly. He get mad all up in him inside.”
“Well, folks!––do you get it?” asked Jim.
Phil nodded.
“Yes!––evidently another of their Chinese superstitions,” returned Eileen.