CHAPTER XII
IN WHICH ANOTHER JOHN AND ANOTHER MARY
WANDER FURTHER FROM HOME THAN THEY
EVER HAVE BEEN BEFORE, AND FIND A MARVELOUS
BALL OF GLASS, IN WHICH ONE SEES
THE STRANGEST THINGS
“Way off in the furthest corner of San Francisco, just where the sun comes over to light up the bay, there is a hill. Of course there are many other hills in San Francisco, but none of them quite so important as Russian Hill. You see, the families who live there are quieter and happier and more old-fashioned than those in other parts of the city. I don’t know why; they just are. Right at the steepest part of the hill, and you can believe me when I tell you the Hill is steep, there is a Spanish Castle; not a really and truly one, but just exactly as nice as though it were. No one lived in it, nor had for several years, excepting an old, white-haired caretaker; a splendid man. He liked children. That is why John and Mary were allowed in the Castle so much. John was a rather spoiled, selfish boy who lived in the Mansion next to the Castle, with his married sister. Mary was his best friend. She had freckles and you would have liked her. They played nice games up on the Hill; dozens of fascinating make-believes that you never would have thought of. They fought pirates—oodles of them—and baked potatoes in ovens under the rock and did other things just as nice.
“But, just like other children, they grew tired of these things at times and wanted something new. So one day, when there were no potatoes left, Mary suggested going down the Hill. John did not like to; he hated to go where there were other people. Mary laughed at him and told him he was a sissy, although he wasn’t really. He became ashamed of her taunts, so down the Hill they went. First you go down some lovely old steps cut right in the stone, then you come to another hill so steep that it is easier to lie down and roll than to walk. They must have gone at least six blocks when, all at once, Mary said to John:
“‘We are not in San Francisco any more.’
“‘Where are we, then?’ asked John.
“‘We are in China.’
“They were not really; they were in Chinatown, but it looked like another city, altogether. There were hundreds of Chinamen shuffling along the street, with long pig-tails and funny, large pipes in their mouths. They talked in a queer sing-song, the funniest language you have ever heard. There were Chinese women with gold jewelry and green jade in their hair, and the most adorable little Chinese babies, who looked like dolls, dressed in splendid colored silks. Up on a balcony, where there were a dozen brightly lighted lanterns, a Chinese musician was playing upon an instrument that sounded like dying pigs and broken drums and tin whistles. In the shop-windows there were white lilies and flaming oriental silks and queer toys. Also there were skinned pigs and skinned chickens and strings of bacon hanging from nails.
“John and Mary became so interested that they forgot all about going home. Before they knew it, darkness had fallen, lanterns on the balconies were lighted, and Chinatown looked like Fairyland.
“Down the street came a tall, fine-looking Chinaman, in loose, blue silk trousers and a blue silk coat with black embroidery. He seemed very much surprised to find two American children in Chinatown at that time of night. He came to them and said, in even better English than I use: