"I should sincerely hope not," said Miss MacDonald meaningly.
"Yes, but, my dear, it is so expressive—I heard you talking to them during dinner to-day," interrupted her aunt.
I blushed a little. "Well, then, that's what I mean," I said. "I don't want to say that I think you are wasting time reading to them—you know they have a religion of their own—one that antedates ours—they won't take it right."
"That's a question we won't discuss at present," said Miss MacDonald. "There are many Christianized Chinamen at home, and they seem to appreciate it very much."
"Always, if there's a pretty woman to teach them," I snapped.
There was a silence after this. I had been rude, I suppose, but I was only telling the truth. I went to the break, or edge, of the schooner's poop, and called the watch, which had been mustering on deck.
"Get the coolies aft to the mast," I ordered.
The men passed the word along, and two or three Chinks who understood English as well as I did came slouching aft. Gradually about two dozen stood or congregated near enough to hear, but Yellow Dog and his slant-eyed chum of the walrus mustaches seemed to decline the invitation.
"Couldn't you get the large man, their leader, to come also?" asked the lady.
"Not without dragging him lashed fast," I protested.