Chapter II: Part 2

They were getting nearer and nearer the moon now, and, oh, how very large it was! To Kon Ying it had always seemed no larger than a small Chinese lantern, but now, as she came nearer, it seemed greater than the whole world. Soon she could see it no more, and the white rabbits told her that they were already in the moon. It was the most beautiful country. The velvet grass was covered with the sacred almond blossom petals, and their perfume was sweeter far than any incense. They passed through a long avenue of pure white chrysanthemums, which showered their petals upon them like snow. At the end of this avenue the chairs were stopped, and cunning little white-rabbit pages assisted them gently to the ground. A tender light flooded the place, and when Kon Ying raised her eyes she saw before her a throne, draped with the flags of the Imperial Court of China,--yellow silk, with blue dragons embroidered upon them,--and on the throne sat the queen,--the good moon rabbit who had heard her prayer.

This queen was busily engaged in pounding rice, pounding it into a powder, and then sending it down to earth, to be eaten during the Moon Festival and the China New Year. She wore a pink gauze dress all covered with glittering spangles, and as Kon Ying approached the queen was singing:

“The small-footed girl with the sweet little smile,
She loves to eat sugar and sweets all the while;
Her money’s all gone, and because she can’t buy,
She holds her small feet while she sits down to cry.”

It sounded very pretty, as the queen had quite a sweet voice, and Kon Ying soon found herself singing it with all the others. The queen extended one soft white paw in greeting, but kept on pounding rice with the other.

All the dear little Chinese ladies and men now seated themselves around the throne. The white-rabbit pages handed each one a different musical instrument, and there burst forth the loveliest music that Kon Ying had ever heard. She found that she could play quite as well as any of them, which was a great surprise to her, as she had never before even touched a musical instrument.

After the music the queen ordered refreshments served, and they entered a bower of almond blossoms and China lilies, seating themselves at a long table, where they were served by a lot of tiny white-rabbit pages. They ate with ivory chopsticks set with diamonds. The queen sat at the head of the table, and could hold the chopsticks in her paws quite as well as any one. What a feast that was! Yet plenty of funny things happened, even if it was a royal company. The queen forgot herself, and stuck her nose right into a bowl of hot rice, at which there was a general giggle. A page quickly brought a finger-bowl and sponged the burnt nose, so it was all right.

There were all sorts of good Chinese things to eat,--delicious _chah_ (tea) in little handleless bowls, all kinds of pretty moon-cakes, little biscuit made of almond meal; watermelon seed, and many other things. When the feast was ended the queen said that each of them could make one wish, and it would be gratified. Kon Ying did not have to hesitate long over her wish.

She knew what she wanted more than anything in the world, and she remembered that she had prayed to the rabbit, so perhaps--perhaps--“Oh, dear queen!” she said at last in her piping little voice, “I be _so_ good if only--if only--I could have--a doll, like the one in the shop window; oh, if I could--if I could.”

Her eyes were full of tears as she finished, for it meant so much to her. The good moon rabbit replied: “You shall have your wish, little one, for you are a good child.”

Kon Ying now bade farewell to the queen and all the dear little Chinese people, and jumping into the sedan chair was soon whirling away once more, and in a short while found herself entering the window of her own home, and placing her tired body on the bed. When she awoke the next morning she remembered the queen’s promise, and--what was that on her bed, close beside her? A queer looking package, and on it, written in Chinese letters, “For good little Kon Ying, from the moon labbit.” Hastily tearing open the packet she saw disclosed--the DOLL! She fancied the god frowned when he saw it.

That night, when the narrow Chinese streets were gay with the many lanterns, and sweet with the fragrant almond blossom and lily, and the happy crowds were thronging the streets, the old highbinder passed the door. He smiled as he saw little Kon Ying seated in the doorway, holding the DOLL in her arms, and with rapture unspeakable in her childish eyes.

“Where you catch ’em?” he inquired in a jovial tone.

“Oh, I so happy,” she said. “I went to the moon last night, and the moon labbit _did_ bling me the DOLL.”

And the highbinder smiled.

_HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME TO SUEY HIP_

Suey Hip was a little Chinese girl. She did not have a bright, cheerful home, but lived in a cellar, with steps going down from the street. It was dark and smoky down there, but of course it did not seem so bad to Suey Hip as it would to those who have always had a nice home, because she had never known anything else.

Sometimes the children of a wealthy Chinese merchant would toddle by in their richly embroidered robes, and their feet were so small they could hardly walk. Suey Hip would sit on the top of the steps, and when she wished, play on the pavement in front of her home. And, oh, how she did long for some of those pretty garments! But her _mo chun_ worked very hard to get what she had by sewing for the Chinese stores, and there was no way to get anything more.

Now one day when Suey Hip sat on the step sunning herself, and looking with longing eyes at the people as they passed, there came a little American girl, walking with her papa through the streets. Suey Hip was very bashful, and hung her head, and scraped her little sandals on the pavement as they passed before her.

“Hello, little one,” said the man, in such a kind voice that Suey Hip looked up, and as she did so, caught sight of something in the little Dorothy’s arms that put her little motherly heart all in a glow, and she no longer felt afraid. What was it she saw? Why, just the loveliest big doll, with eyes that opened and shut, and it was dressed all in pink silk. Oh, the wonder and delight that sparkled in the dark eyes as she gazed. It seemed too beautiful to be anything but a dream, and she cried as she looked into the sweet face of little Dorothy: “Oh, what is it? Where you catch ’em?”

Dorothy laughed as she replied: “Why, this is my dollie; Santa Claus brought it to me last Christmas.”

“Sanny Claw? Who Sanny Claw?--what’s Clismas?” eagerly inquired the child.

“Don’t you know what Christmas is?” said Dorothy. “Why, Christmas is the loveliest time of all the year. It is then that we hang up our stockings, and in the night while we are asleep Santa Claus comes down the chimney, and fills our stockings with the loveliest things--dolls and toys and candy, and, oh--just everything.”

All this time Dorothy’s papa stood listening in amused silence, as he thought it best to let the children carry on their conversation in their own way.

“I wish I was you,” said Suey Hip. “Sanny Claw no come here; we no have Clismas; you think he ever come--bling me doll?”

Just then Dorothy’s papa spoke and said: “I tell you what to do. You get your mamma to write a note in Chinese to Santa, and we will come to-morrow and get the note and I will see that Santa Claus gets it. It is now just one month until Christmas, and who knows what may happen in that time?”

“You come again to-mollow?” eagerly inquired the child, and Dorothy said, “Yes--yes, we will, won’t we, papa?”

“Yes, dear, we will come again to-morrow.”

When they had passed out of sight along the narrow streets, Suey Hip toddled down the dark steps into the cellar she called home, and going to her mother, who sat sewing by a tiny latticed window, she exclaimed:

“Oh, _mo chun_! little ’Melican girl she say Sanny Claw come evvy yeah--bling doll--bling candy, toy, evvything. She say you lite note to Sanny Claw; tell him come bling me doll Clismas.”

After a great deal of explanation she made her little brown mother understand, and although she herself could not really believe that anything so nice could happen to her child, yet she had a mother’s tender heart, and was willing to do all the child asked of her. So she left her work, and went to a little table where there were some odd-looking writing materials, Suey Hip watching her eagerly all the while, and taking up a slender brush-stick, dipped it in an ink-like mixture, and began to make queer Chinese letters up and down the long slip of red paper. After much effort it was finished, and given to Suey Hip. She placed it carefully in a little

vase, and went out again to play on the streets.

She was so excited that night that she could hardly eat her supper of rice and tea and little sweetened cakes. She was almost too much excited to burn her incense before the little god in the corner, but she managed to get through with it, and was then put to bed. Next day at the same hour Suey Hip’s face had been scrubbed until it fairly shone, and her thick black hair was pasted down and braided into a long queue. She wore her best trousers and blouse of light blue silk, and little red sandals. Suey Hip was very much dressed up.

The shy little mother, who had also come out on the pavement to watch for the Americans, put her fan up to hide her face when she saw them coming, and quietly as a mouse slipped down the steps again. Suey Hip eagerly handed them the note which was to mean so much to her. Dorothy’s mama had come with them this time, and when she caught a glimpse of the timid little Chinese mother peeping eagerly up at them, she, with her kind woman’s heart, stepped down into the dark cellar, and stretched out both her white hands to meet the little brown hands of the mother who lived in a cellar.

She managed to make herself understood, and there was a good deal of low talking, and mysterious signs between the two mothers, but they understood, as mothers will; and papa pretended he did not see and hear. Dorothy told Suey Hip it was just a month until Christmas, and that would not be very long--just four little weeks, which would soon pass. Then Mrs. Suey shyly asked them to come in and have a cup of tea, which, served in the dearest little bowls, proved to be the best they had ever tasted.

After that there were a great many calls from Dorothy and her mama, and a great deal more of that mysterious whispering between the two mothers, until at last it was announced that the very next day would be Christmas. “Oh, too good--too good,” said Suey Hip, as she toddled around, too delighted to be quiet one minute.

It seemed as if the day would never pass, but after awhile the shadows began to fall on the narrow streets, and the big lanterns were lighted, and made everything beautiful; and Suey Hip knew that she was the only child in all the big Chinatown who would hang up her stocking that night.

The hour had come. She got out her very best pair of cream-colored stockings, and with trembling little fingers hung them securely to the foot of her couch, and was soon in the land of dreams. In the midst of her dream she awoke with a start. She wondered if he had been here yet. It was so dark, but oh--she felt as if she just couldn’t wait. But she knew _mo chun_ was tired, and she did not wish to awaken her, so she crept softly to the foot of the bed, and groped around in the dark, for her stockings. Once she almost fell off the bed, but finally her little hands found what she sought, and she felt the stockings.

They were all lumpy and fat,--what could be in them? In the top of one she felt something large--something with hands and feet and hair. Oh, joy! could it be? But she must wait and see.

Oh, how glad she was when she heard _mo chun_ moving, and saw the first glimmer of the day steal into their cellar home! With one bound she was out of bed, and _mo chun_ was as glad as she, for really and truly, in the dark night, the “‘Melican Sanny Claw” had by some means crept down there, and just filled her stockings with good things. The thing with hands and feet and hair was a real doll, with big blue eyes that opened and shut, and yellow hair and a blue silk dress. It had on the dearest little shoes and earrings, bracelets, a necklace, and a nice big hat.

Oh, how she hugged it to her heart, and could scarcely put it down long enough to see what else was there. Not only were the stockings full, but there were lovely things all around. There was the nicest little trunk for dollie, all full of pretty dresses and wraps, and there was doll furniture, and the daintiest set of doll dishes. It seemed to the poor little Chinese girl that she had everything in the world there was to have, and--what do you suppose? Poked in through the little latticed window they found a package, and on it the words--

“FOR MAMA SUEY, FROM
SANTA CLAUS.”

When her trembling hands had eagerly opened it, what should she find but a whole lot of gold money? Oh, how happy she was! Now she would not have to work so hard, and strain her eyes at night by the dim candle. Now, they could have some pork whenever they wished, and they pictured all the happiness it would bring them. When Dorothy’s papa and mama came that day they found the happiest hearts in the whole big city, and when they saw the joy that had come into this little cellar home, they were glad that they had given the note to dear old “Sanny Claw.”

_THE EASTER DREAM OF MUN CHEE_

Mun Chee had a wonderful dream one night. Being a little Chinese aristocrat, she had never played just as the common people’s children play, and in her little heart she sometimes longed to get out, she and her two little brothers, and run wild through the narrow Chinese streets, and to be as free as the winds, just as the children of poor people might do; but she could not do this. So much was due to her station in life, as she was to be a Chinese lady some far-off day. So one night,--just the night before Easter,--after she had fallen asleep on her couch of bamboo, she dreamed a dream as beautiful as a poor child--a child of a coolie even might dream, for dreams are free to all, rich and poor. Perhaps it was because she had gone to sleep wondering if her house would be visited by the Easter rabbit, of which an American friend had told her; perhaps--but then, it does not matter what the reason was, for suddenly she felt some soft little taps on her eyelids, and a warm breath fanned her cheek, and opening her eyes she beheld the dearest, cunningest little rabbit--a white one, with bright pink eyes. It was perched on the edge of her bed, and had awakened her by tapping her Oriental eyelids with its soft white paws. It looked so gentle that she loved it right away, and said: “Who are you?”

It replied in a tiny voice: “If it please your highness, I am the queen of the Easter rabbits; I thought you might like to go with me for a little visit to my realm, the beautiful Easterland.”

“Oh, I likee go,” said Mun Chee. “It must be all light to visit a queen. Yes, yes, I will go, but how?”

“Trust to me, and you shall arrive safely; I will carry you on my back.”

“You? Why, you too small; I such a big girl; you no can cally me.”

“Wait and see!” said Queen Bunny, and with that she began to grow and grow and grow, right before Mun Chee’s astonished eyes, and pretty soon she was as big as a horse.

“Oh, how could you do it?” gasped the little Chinese girl.

“Because I am in league with the fairies, and have all power,” the queen said. “Jump on my back, if it please your ladyship, and we will hasten away.”

She jumped gracefully to the back of the rabbit, and clasped her plump arms tightly around its neck. They bounded up, up, until they were so high in the air that they could not see the world below.

“I neveh knew that labbits could fly,” said she.

“Well, all rabbits cannot fly,” said the queen, “only those of royal blood. There are rabbits and rabbits, you know, just as there are people and people. My sceptre is a white Easter lily, and whoever it touches is at once possessed of unlimited power.”

Now they came to the land of the birds, where they were fairly intoxicated with the beautiful music thrilling from the throats of these feathered songsters. Some of the trees were bright blue, and were filled with all kinds of blue birds; then a yellow tree, something like the acacia, was filled with canaries, making the air fairly alive with song. So they floated on, until the songs of the birds were but an echo.

Then came Candy-land. My! how good it smelled in this wonderful place--all pepper-minty and nice! and what a variety of trees there were--some big, big trees, just full of Chinese preserved ginger! and how Mun Chee did long to put her strong white teeth into some of it! Then there were trees so soft and white that they looked almost as if they were covered with snow; but it really was only white marsh-mallows. Then there were tiny Chinese fairies running all around, pulling bon-bons apart, and squealing with delight when they popped.

Then came Monkey-land, and this was the funniest of all, and even made a little Chinese girl laugh. Some of them were playing a game of base-ball with cocoanuts, and Mun Chee was all the time afraid one of them would get hit in the head; but they seemed to know just how to avoid that. Some of them ran up and asked her to stay to dinner with them, and then, when they thought she was not looking, they made such horrible faces at her that she was glad she had not accepted their invitation. After she had watched several games she hurried on again, looking back once, to see some of the monkeys throwing kisses at her and others making the ugliest faces. That might have been their way of being polite, though she really could not say, as she was not up in the etiquette of monkeys.

Next came the land of bears. There were all kinds,--black, brown, and white. She was scared at first, but the rabbit queen assured her they were harmless, and warranted not to hug. They were dancing some kind of a queer dance, and one silky white one, that looked just like a rug she had at home, came and asked if the little celestial aristocrat would honor him with the next dance. A look from the eyes of Queen Bunny told her she had better accept, and she did so, smiling graciously upon the bear. Around they went, in a giddy whirl, her queue flying in the wind, until it seemed to Mun Chee that everything was going around with them, and she panted: “If it’s just the same to you, I’d rather sit out the rest of this dance.”

“Certainly, your highness,” growled old bruin, and when she was seated he brought her a dish of sweetened snowballs, which were quite refreshing.

When she told them good-by this same bear could not resist the temptation of giving her just a teeny-weeny hug, but it didn’t hurt, and she was quite sure he meant it as a mark of especial favor.

Next came the land of cats. Each land had its queen, and here it was Queen Malta, an immense maltese cat with large, yellow eyes. Such a purring as they made when they saw Mun Chee and Queen Bunny approaching! It was not often they were honored by royalty. The queen approached them, walking on her hind legs, her long silky tail held by a page,--a tiny white kitten, dressed in gauze and spangles.

“In what way shall it please your gracious majesties to be entertained?” said Queen Malta; but to any one else it would have sounded like “Miaouw--miaouw--miaouw--”

Mun Chee replied: “I likee some music.”

Thereupon the queen tapped a silver bell, and there sprang lightly into view a perfect chorus of the most beautiful cats. After curtseying to the royal guests they began the music, and they sang the funniest songs imaginable. Mun Chee laughed till her little sides ached, but when she applauded, the noise scared away all the cats, and they scampered off, regardless of good manners. Queen Malta called them back, and explained matters, however, and the program was carried out without any further commotion. Mun Chee would like to have lingered for quite a while in each of these strange countries, but Queen Bunny told her it was approaching the hour when they were expected at the Easter castle, and so, after a few more swift turns through the air, they began to descend softly, softly, until faint strains of music fell upon their ears.

It was a triumphant march of welcome, and the notes rose glad and high. Soon Mun Chee felt her feet touch the soft grass, and unclasping her arms from about the rabbit’s neck, she stood and gazed about her in a perfect bewilderment of rapture. This was so different from any of the other countries; everywhere the eye rested upon the soft green tracery of leaves and trees, great beds of delicate fern, and flowers of every hue. Through an avenue of tall, waxen Easter lilies she was conducted by two tiny white rabbits, and as they walked, a glorious anthem sounded from all the great Easter lilies, and the golden clappers clanged musically against their satin whiteness.

All the while there was a strange and wonderful perfume filling the air, even sweeter than the scent of the punks burned before the joss in the temple. Some of the lilies bent down and kissed the dear little Chinese maiden as she passed, and their breath was sweeter than any perfume. After being royally entertained in the palace of pure white pearl the child was conducted into the queen’s garden, where a feast was spread under the shade of some tall ferns. Being seated, they were served to delicious tea, in dainty cups, shaped like Easter lilies. Many good things were placed before the little girl, who was very hungry, after her long flight through the air, and nothing in her own home had ever tasted half so good as did these dishes served by the dear little white rabbits.

After much chatting and laughing the strange meal was ended, and the rabbit queen presented Mun Chee with a large basket of pearl and silver, lined with blue and yellow, the colors of the Imperial Court of China, and announced that they would now start out in search of Easter eggs. “Oh, what fun!” said Mun Chee, clapping her hands for joy. A white rabbit page went by her side, and carried her basket. Soon they came to a dense forest of fern, and Mun Chee heard a high, squeaky voice saying:

“Search for the one with long, long legs,
And you may find some Easter eggs.”

“How queer!” thought Mun Chee, “to tell me about it. Well, if it has velly long legs I betteh quit looking on the glound, and look up.” She did so, and away back among the ferns she saw some funny bright eyes peeping at her.

“Why, it is a stok” (stork), she exclaimed.

With that the stork came forward, and extended a long claw in greeting, and, pointing to a large nest artfully concealed among the ferns, he said: “You may take what you see, and welcome.”

“Oh, thank you!” she said, and taking several of the very large eggs, placed them carefully in her basket.

“Oh, they won’t break,” said Queen Bunny. “The eggs in Easterland are warranted not to break.”

And now the soft trill of a canary rippled from a tree,--a tiny tree, that a child could easily reach. Sure enough, there was the dearest little canary, perched on a branch, singing sweetly,--

“Come and see! come and see,
What Canary has for thee.”

There in the little nest were a lot of the tiniest eggs, and all bright yellow, just the color of Mrs. Canary herself.

“Oh, you gentle little thing--you so good to give me youh cunning little eggs.”

“Don’t mention it!” said Canary.

Then a white dove cooed from its house near by,--

“Coo-coo, you are true,
Come and take my gift for you.”

Her gift was six eggs, pure white, with just the tiniest little pink polkadots in them. While she was admiring them she heard a gentle purr, which seemed to come from the ground under her feet, and looking down she saw peeping from a moss-lined hole in the ground a pair of pink eyes, and a white, soft paw, as the voice of this Easter rabbit purred,--

“Put your hand into the ground,
And find what no one else has found.”

“Well, I likee find what no one else has found,” she said; and putting her hand into the moss-lined nest, she drew out--not an egg, as she had expected, but six of the tiniest baby rabbits, no bigger than her thumb.

“Oh, you cunning little babies! You shall go and live with me,” said Mun Chee; and thanking the Easter rabbit, she passed on to the home of a blue-bird, on a swinging bough, and heard her singing,--

“Roses red, my eggs are blue,
Come! and I will give you two.”

What a beautiful blue they were, to be sure! just like the sky. Then a loud cackling fell upon her ear, and she could distinguish the words,--

“If you will give me a piece of bread
I’ll bring you some eggs, all bright and red.”

She saw that the queer voice came from a bright red little hen, who gave her some beautiful eggs when she had given the bread.

Following the sound of a sharp voice she walked along the path until she came to a most beautiful peacock, gorgeous in the spread of its wonderful plumage.

This pleased her more than any of the others, because the peacock feather is sacred to the Chinese, and is used in their temples where they pray to the joss. The peacock’s offering was a very large bunch of these brilliant feathers, to take to her _mo chun_, while it said in a queer, sharp voice,--

“It matters not, my little one, how stormy is the weather;
The joss will always care for those who have a peacock feather.”

“Now for the last place,” said Queen Bunny; and following the sound of a terrible screeching noise, they climbed a ladder into a tall tree, and there was a beautiful American eagle. It was not cross a bit, as eagles usually are, but was singing,--

“The gift I have, little girl, for you
Is three big eggs--red, white, and blue.”

It seemed to Mun Chee that the best came last, for these were such beautiful eggs, and so different from any of the others. Her basket was quite full now, and as she saw the shade growing more dense beneath the trees she thought it must be quite time for her to return to her own home. So, after bidding good-by to all the royal company of white rabbits, and having her arms filled with the fragrant China lilies, she sprang upon the queen’s back once more, and sped away--away--far from the Easter palace--the palace of a dream.

_PING PONG AND PING YET_

Ping Pong was not a game, but a dear little Chinese boy, who was eagerly looking forward to something which was almost like an American Christmas. The Chinese do not have any Christmas, but they have something else which serves the purpose, as far as their eager little hearts are concerned, and that is, the Festival of the Moon. Ping Pong’s round, fat, and very dirty face looked something like a moon as he leaned over the counter in his father’s drug store, and watched him weigh and mix portions of dried lizards and snakes for his customers; for the Chinese use dried lizards and snakes, and all sorts of funny things, for medicine.

It would seem so very queer to an American child, but it did not strike little Ping Pong as being at all out of the way, and he would probably have thought it just as strange to know that people took powders and pills. He thought when he grew up to be a “velly big man” like his father, he would either be a druggist or a highbinder, or better still he might be both; yet, a highbinder was one who always sought a way of killing people he did not like, and a druggist sometimes killed people he really did like,--but that was always through mistake, of course.

Ping Pong and his dear little sister Ping Yet were teasing the good-natured father to take them to the joss house. That was indeed a queer idea. Why should two children wish to go to the temple to pray to the joss? Surely the father could pray enough for himself and his family, too. But he never liked to refuse any reasonable request of his children, so he asked advice of the little mother, who was engaged in some very mysterious occupation which compelled her to keep the kitchen door locked. _Mo chun_ opened the door cautiously, and, peeping out, whispered to _ho chun_, who smiled in a peculiar way. “What foh you likee go joss house, you _hai tongs_?” (babies), she now asked, and Ping Pong replied: “We likee play to good joss to bling us pletty moon-cakes.”

The mother had to giggle at that, in her dear little Chinese way, for she knew a good deal about moon-cakes, and knew about the white rabbit. But she was not going to tell all she knew, just now, so she only smiled in her sweet mother way, and gave her consent to their going.

It was just getting dark when they left, and the proud father started out to the joss house with a happy child on each side of him, and two small brown hands clasped tightly in his big brown ones. They had never been to the temple before, but they had heard it was a very good thing to do when one wanted anything very badly.

“How pletty the big dlagon lantehns look!” they exclaimed.

Yes, the big lanterns did indeed look pretty, as they gleamed and swayed in front of every door in the big Chinatown of San Francisco, and looked like big golden moons, almost as big as the moon in which the white rabbit lived. The streets were very gay at this season, and the shops were full of people buying gifts.

Little Ping Yet made a very pretty picture as she shyly patted down the narrow streets with her embroidered sandals, wide silken trousers, and blue silk blouse richly embroidered by the loving fingers of her dear _mo chun_. Her polished hair was done in a queue.

The moon rabbit must surely have passed this way, for the windows were all full of little cakes shaped like the moon. They thought that all the year, while they were flying kites, popping fire-crackers, and playing in the street in front of their home, the white rabbit must be always pounding rice.

It took them a very long time to get to the joss house, because there were so many interesting things on the way. Ping Pong, in boyish eagerness, pressed his little nose and dirty fingers right up against the glass in one place, or at least he thought it was the glass, until he fell right in, with his nose on a candy pagoda thirteen stories high, and then he found out his mistake. That glass happened to be broken out, and he was very much embarrassed. The gingerbread peacock seemed to glare scornfully at him as his _ho chun_ pulled him out, and the painted gods and goddesses seemed to smile on him in a pitying way.

Little Ping Yet was as much ashamed as if she herself had fallen with her nose on a Chinese pagoda, and she hid her face with her wide silken sleeves. But the shopkeeper was good natured and said, with a kindly pat of the button on top of Ping Pong’s round Chinese cap, “Neveh mind! that’s all light; you heap good _samen jai_ and _ne jai_ (boy and girl). I hope you get heap plenty moon-cake flom the white labbit.”

They wandered on in happy abandon, until they reached the long steps, which, _ho chun_ informed them, led up to the temple of the good Joss. They had so often wondered what the joss looked like; was he a big rabbit, or a peacock, or perhaps a dragon with scaly sides and spitting fire? They secretly hoped, in their innocent little hearts, that if it was a “dlagon” he would refrain from spitting fire while they were there. When they thought of what might await them, they were almost sorry they had come, and their timid little hearts beat fearfully against their blouses; but the touch of _ho chun’s_ strong hand was reassuring, and they reflected that surely there could be nothing so very dreadful up there, or he would not have taken them.

First they passed through a room where some Chinamen were selling long narrow red-paper packages of incense sticks. _Ho chun_ bought one, and the men spoke kindly to the boy and girl, and they passed on. Up another flight of steps they went, until it seemed as if they must be almost as high up as the moon. A strong odor of incense greeted their nostrils, and it seemed good, for they were accustomed to it, as it was always burning at home before the different gods and ancestral tablets.

The odor grew stronger, and they heard some one beating the big gong. Soon they had placed their sandalled feet upon the last step, and their oblique eyes were fairly dazzled with the sparkle and beauty of it all.

“Where joss? I likee see him,” they both exclaimed in awed whispers, while _ho chun_ pointed to the gaudy altar, gay with its brass carvings and rosettes of red paper. Bright peacock feathers were plentiful, and seemed to stare at them with a thousand eyes. Back of it all, in a sheltered recess, was the joss. They heaved a sigh of relief that he was not a dragon. An American child would have thought him perfectly hideous, but the Chinese children have such different ideas, and they exclaimed rapturously, “Oh, velly pletty joss! heap fine god; me likee.”

Perhaps they thought it best to say very nice things of him in his presence, however, because it would never do to offend him, or he might not allow the white “labbit” to visit them. So they ventured quite near, and spoke in tones he could not fail to hear.

After a whispered consultation with _ho chun_ they opened the pretty red-paper package, and each took from it two incense sticks, and their father having lighted them, the children waved them several times right under the nose of the great and high one, and bowed their little heads to the floor a great many times, meanwhile asking in their innocent little way that the good joss would please make the white rabbit bring them something nice. When they had finished, they placed the rest of the incense sticks in the great brass urn in front of the joss, and the sacred ashes fell down and helped to fill it up. Every time they had bowed their heads the big gong had been beaten, and at first the noise had frightened them, but finally they grew to like it.

_Ho chun_ thought that while they were there, they had better try throwing the fortune sticks, as he knew it would please them, so he picked up a tall round box, full of bamboo sticks, and explained it to them. They first asked the joss “Will we get any moon-cakes?” Then each in turn took the box and shook it until one stick fell out, when they picked it up, and _ho chun_ read the Chinese number on it, then looked in a book and found out what that number said. Fortunately the answer was favorable, and they felt happy now. That meant that they might really expect some gift from the moon rabbit.

Before going home they all stepped out on the beautiful balcony on which were swinging the biggest lanterns they had ever seen, and they leaned over the edge, where there were great pots of the pretty China lily in blossom, with red papers tied around the stems, and looked at the hundreds of people passing below them. The grown-up people all had their arms full of bundles, and little three-cornered brown paper parcels. All was noisy and happy and bright, because it was the eve of the Moon Festival, and the shopping must all be done before the rabbit should come.

Down the long steps they went again, and into the crowded street, where all was joy and delight, and mysterious whispering.

“Oh, that pletty pagoda!” said Ping Pong, “I so ’flaid the labbit no bling me pagoda, I think _ho chun_ betteh get.”

_Ho chun_ laughed and said, “No! I wait and see if the labbit come, I think bimeby he come and bling pagoda; I no can tell--we wait and see.”

But what if he should forget to bring one? and they were such beautiful pagodas, and all made of candy. The little round faces were sober for a while, thinking how very dreadful it would be if, after all, the rabbit did not come, or, if he did come, and should forget to bring the much-desired pagoda.

They were very tired when at last they reached their home, over which gleamed the big golden Chinese letters of welcome, and in a little bowl beside the door burned the punk sticks, day and night, to keep the evil spirits from entering their home. Their tired little legs could hardly climb the stairs, but at last they were there, and had tumbled into the mother’s loving arms, and had been kissed and questioned thoroughly.

_Mo chun_ was really astonished to hear of the glorious time they had enjoyed, and of the many wonders they had seen. When they mentioned the pagoda she was suddenly seized with the giggles, and her laughter was so merry and contagious that they all laughed till their sides ached, though the children could not have told why they laughed. The mother and father knew why, but they would not tell. The hour had come, and indeed it was long past the hour when they should have gone to bed, but then the beautiful Moon Festival came only once a year, and so they might be allowed a few privileges. They were finally asleep on their beds of matting, and the mother looked tenderly at the rosy little faces as she went into the kitchen--the kitchen which for some reason had been locked all day.

Well, morning came at last, as it always does, and before the sun was up Ping Pong and his sister jumped out of bed, exclaiming: “Oh, _mo chun_, has the white labbit been?”

Oh, what were all those beautiful things on the table? Why, the whole room was changed. When they had gone to bed the night before, there was nothing there but just the things that belonged in the room, and now--and now-- The white rabbit had

surely been here, for the table was covered with the most beautiful gifts they had ever seen,--lots of cunning little moon-cakes, sprinkled with poppy and caraway seed; and some like a horse and a cow, and all sorts of funny animals. And there was a big bouquet for Ping Pong, because it was his birthday too.

There were also some big candy dragons, with great staring eyes, but now, instead of the dragons eating them, they were going to eat the dragons. My! what fun that would be! and they could not wait, but planted their strong white teeth in the white heads, and bit them off. My! how sweet they were! so sweet that their bodies went next, and soon there were no dragons at all.

There were all kinds of gaudily painted toys of clay, and little Ping Yet’s dancing eyes danced more than ever, and she fairly rippled over with smiles when she saw, sticking out of a bright red pair of embroidered sandals, a real Chinese doll. It looked very much like Ping Yet herself, with its bright black eyes, rosy cheeks, and coal-black hair. She thought it surely must be the most beautiful thing in the whole big world, but _mo chun_ said she knew something more beautiful. The little one wondered vaguely what it could be, and how anything could be more beautiful, but she was too busy to wonder long, for Ping Pong had uttered such a shriek of delight that she almost jumped out of her little sandals. What could be the matter?

“What foh you cly? you buhn youh fingeh?” she cried; and he in reply pointed to the cause of all his excitement; it was--oh, joy!--a pagoda, and _mo chun_ said:

“The dragon pagoda it touches the sky;
The dragon pagoda, thirteen stories high.”

It was just exactly like the one they had asked _ho chun_ to buy, and the dear white rabbit in the moon must have seen right down into their minds and brought what they wished. And oh, they were so glad now that they had gone to the joss house, and burned the incense and thrown the fortune sticks, for if they had not--who knows?--the white rabbit might have forgotten them.

_THE LITTLE ALMOND BLOSSOM_

Mo Chun called her the little Almond Blossom, as she was so bright and beautiful, and she loved her so. Her real name was Gum Sing, and she was, so the mother thought, the prettiest thing in all the big Chinatown of San Francisco.

Gum Sing’s father kept a store, where they sold all sorts of fine china and silk. She often went to her father’s store, but never alone. Oh, no! she was too precious to be trusted out alone, and then she was too young to find her way through the winding streets, and the doors all looked alike to her, so the _mo chun_ or the nurse always accompanied her.

Gum Sing had such a round, dimpled face, and there always seemed to be kisses lurking in the dimples. And she had the merriest little laugh,--just like music to her mother. It was not enough for _mo chun_ to see this little face every day, and to sleep on the hard pillow with it at night. No, that was not enough, for how could any one ever have enough of so fair a thing? So the father and mother agreed that their little Almond Blossom must have her picture taken. That was a great day in the house of Gum. Such an event had never happened before.

Now Gum Sing did not know at all what it meant to have her picture taken, but she knew by the smiles on her mother’s face, and by the careful and proud manner in which she was being arrayed, that it could be no small thing, and that some way or other she was expected to look as beautiful and as much like the almond flower as she could, as that was sacred to the Chinese.

With delight she saw that she was to wear her lavender silk blouse. “Oh, _mo chun_,” she giggled, “I likee wear _ho chun’s_ big gold watch.”

Now, although the little mother did not think it just exactly the proper thing for any one so tiny as Gum Sing to wear a watch and chain, yet this was such an important event--and such a proud moment for her--that she could see no harm in letting her have her way about it this time. She insisted upon carrying _mo chun’s_ big fan, too, and it certainly did look very wonderful to see it clasped in the tiny brown hand.

The trousers of pink silk were so bright and pretty, and the dainty little sandals had been embroidered by _mo chun_ herself.

When all was ready, _ho chun_ appeared on the scene, and the happy party started out for the photograph gallery of Hen Yin Gock.

“I so happy--I so glad,” giggled the little Gum Sing, not knowing just what she was happy about, only she was such a happy little thing always, and being the only child had so much love given her. At last they reached the place. There did not seem to be anything wonderful about it. There was a window with a lot of pictures in it, and a crowd of Chinamen were jostling each other to see them. Then they ascended the stairway and rapped on the door, and some one called out in Chinese, “_Yap loi le_,” which means “Come in.”

They went in, and the man talked to them pleasantly, but when he went and put his head under a black curtain on some kind of a box, then Gum Sing thought it was time to complain. This was too much! She cried: “_Mo chun_--I no likee--will it hurt? I ’flaid the big dlagon come out of the box.” (The nurse had evidently been telling her stories about the big Chinese dragon.)

Then the good Hen Yin Gock came out from the curtain, and assured her that there was no danger. He brought out two lovely yellow roses in a vase, and put them on a small table with a bright cover, and then told Gum Sing: “If you heap good girl, and do what I say, I give you the floweh, pletty soon.”

Then he also placed on the table a flute, with gaily colored tassels, and then the cunningest little jar, which looked very much as if it might contain preserved ginger, and she was just thinking how much she liked preserved ginger when the man said: “Now keep still! look light at this box!” (The little mother trembled; could it be that after all there was something horrible in the box?) “There is a little bird in this box, and you may see it fly out if you are quiet. Now!--all leady!” (ready).

Gum Sing was so full of giggles that she could hardly be quiet, and the dimples chased each other all over her sunny face. The father and mother gazed with love and admiration at the beauty of their little almond flower, with one hand thrown carelessly on the table and the other grasping the fan.

“There!” at last said the photographer.

Gum Sing wanted to know what it was all about, yet she could not seem to find out. But several days after that, when _ho chun_ was out on the pavement in front of their home, putting some China lilies in a bowl of water, a man came, and handed him a little package. Gum Sing was all curiosity in a minute.

“Oh, _ho chun_, what is it? Let me see!” she cried, and _mo chun_ was almost as eager. So the father opened the package while they waited wonderingly, and there, before their eyes, on pieces of polished cardboard--could it be?--yes, yes!--the picture of their little Almond Blossom--big watch, fan, dimples, giggle and all.

But Gum Sing wonders to this day why the bird did not come out of the box.

_THE CHRISTMAS OF GUM CHING_

Gum Ching lived in America, but she had no way of knowing it, as she never saw any of the country, and was kept in her home all the time. As she was unfortunate enough to be a girl, she had never been permitted to go anywhere, except to play on the street in front of her father’s store. Sometimes, when playing thus, she had seen little American girls drive by in carriages with their mamas, and they seemed to be having so much fun that little Gum Ching would look very sad after they had passed, and would say to her brother Gum Lee: “I wish _I_ was a ’Melican little girl--they have heap good time.”

It was Christmas day, yet this had never meant any happiness for Gum Ching, for the Chinese save all their good times for the New Year. But it chanced that her little brother had been attending the Mission, and learning to read, and the little sister had heard him say that they were going to have a Christmas tree at the Mission that very night.

“What can a Christmas tree be?” said the little Chinese girl to herself; and her thoughts were busy with this all day, wondering what kind of a strange tree it was.

Oh, if she could only go! But how could she, when she had never been out of Chinatown, and there might be all sorts of ugly things waiting to catch her as she passed. She could see the Mission from their upstairs window, and she wondered vaguely if any of the little “‘Melican” girls who had passed in their carriages would be there. She said to herself: “Even if they should punish me when I get home I no care--because then I have something nice to think of, anyway.”

The darkness came at last, and Gum Ching had never been out in the dark. She never knew before that it was quite so black, but she had made up her mind to go, no matter what the consequences were.

Now Gum Ching did not have any mama, and it was very lonely for her at home, with no one but just her _ho chun_ and the little brother, who was always off playing with some boys. After she had eaten her supper, and had seen _ho chun_ light his long opium pipe, she knew then that he would lie down, and not awaken until the morning. So she slipped out and toddled on, in her small sandals, in the direction of the light which streamed from the windows of the mission.

She looked up at the sky, and was just saying: “I wondeh what those pletty spahkling things are up there; I likee have one;” when suddenly she heard a mighty roar, and right through the blackness of the night came a great demon of fire, snorting, puffing, and screaming, and coming right toward the poor little trembling Gum Ching. She feared to move, and so stood quite still until the big giant had passed, and vanished again into the darkness of the night.

It was only the train, but Gum Ching did not know. She was only a girl. Onward she started again, brave little soul, and soon she had reached the Mission. No one would ever know what a terrible undertaking it was for a little girl from China.

The door was open, and a soft radiance streamed out, and lit up the timid form of the little Gum Ching, as she stood on the step, in the dark and the cold.

She could hear a confused murmur of happy voices, and just as she was hesitating whether she would venture in or turn and fly back to her lonely home again, a kind hand clasped hers, and a woman’s tender voice said: “Why, come right in, dear.”