Chapter XVII: Major Goodrich Assists

During the week following Aunt Minerva's departure, the two girls had a busy life, taking charge of the unaccustomed tasks of housekeeping.

But with all their absorbing occupations, the three were waiting on tiptoe of expectation for a reply from Major Goodrich. And even Captain Brett could scarcely conceal his impatience as the days went by and no answer came.

At last one morning the mail-box contained a letter postmarked from Pennsylvania, and Marcia carried it upstairs two steps at a time.

It was from the major. He wrote:

Is there any way you can think of to furnish me with an idea of
what the Chinese for that expression, "maker of melodies,"
_sounds_ like? The only way that occurs to me is to see whether,
by any faint chance, Lee Ching could write it in that Romanized
Colloquial, used by the missionaries. That might give me an idea.
It's a hundred chances to one, he doesn't know it. If so, just
spell it out for me yourself in English--the nearest you can get
to it.

The reason I want to know it is this: there was a young fellow in
Hong-Kong at the British military station, a military aide of
promise, who had a magnificent singing voice. Every one went wild
over him there. He was the life of the garrison and in social
circles as well. Many an evening we spent listening to one of his
impromptu recitals. But what makes me suspect that he may be the
one we're after is that he foolishly went and married the daughter
of a Chinese mandarin from one of the Hong-Kong yamêns. He had
been the means of rendering the father some very important
service, and met the daughter quite by accident. The whole affair
was a rather remarkable story, but I haven't time to detail it all
to you now.

I saw the girl just once--afterward. She was a fascinating little
creature, with the golden butterfly pins in her black hair, and
her rich silk robe hung with jewels, and her tiny bound feet. But
the young fellow's family back in England was furious about it.
Eventually, he cut loose from them entirely. Then he and his wife
drifted away from the Hong-Kong region up to Amoy, and finally
dropped out of sight. I imagine he adopted the Chinese customs and
habits and got to live at last very much like a native. I've never
heard of him since, but I've a notion he could be hunted up if
he's still alive. His name was Carringford--Jack Carringford, we
used to call him.

The point, however, is that the Chinese called him by a name of
their own, signifying "eminent singer," or something of that
sort--very much the same kind of expression as that used on the
bracelet. And after a while we all got to calling him by it--or
some abbreviation of it--pretty regularly. I can't recall just
what it was now, for I haven't thought of it in years. But I
believe I'd recognize it if I saw it written out in Colloquial or
any other English version! Get me that, and I'll soon put you on
the right track!

Mightn't the little girl possibly be the daughter of Carringford?

"No, she _mightn't_!" interrupted Marcia, indignantly, at this point. "Does Cecily Marlowe look like a Chinese mandarin's daughter's daughter?" And certainly, with her golden curls and big blue eyes and the English roses in her cheeks, they had to admit that she did not!

"And besides that," added Janet, "her name isn't _Carringford_!"

"That doesn't always signify," remarked the captain. "It looks to me like a rather clear case if we find that the Chinese name agrees with the major's recollection of it. I'd go down to the ship to-day, but Lee Ching is on shore leave, and won't be back till to-morrow. I'll see him then, and find out whether he knows anything about this Romanized Colloquial. I rather doubt it myself. It's not much used outside of the missions, I understand."

"What _is_ 'Romanized Colloquial,' anyway?" demanded Marcia. "It sounds very mysterious!"

"No, it isn't a bit mysterious," answered Captain Brett. "In order to understand about it, however, you must know this fact about the Chinese language. The _written_ character is the same--_means_ the same--all over the kingdom. But it isn't _pronounced_ the same in any of the different provinces. In fact, the spoken dialects are like entirely different languages. It seems that the dialect of the Fu-kien province has been reduced to a written form by the missionaries and called Romanized Colloquial. It has been in use for a good many years, but it isn't especially recognized by official or diplomatic circles. But a good many of the Chinese boys who attend the mission-schools learn it there. It's just possible that Lee Ching may have done so, as he came from that region. We can only wait and see. If he doesn't know it, he _may_ be able to write out the Chinese equivalent in some form of English script."

The next day the captain went down to the _Empress of Oran_ and returned with a beaming face and a sheet of paper written on by Lee Ching.

"He knew it all right!" he announced. "Learned it as a boy in the mission-school at _Chiang-chiu_. Here's what he wrote." And he held the sheet of paper for the girls to see. "He's put the Chinese characters at one side. They have to be read from top to bottom, you know. Next to them is the Romanized Colloquial, and alongside of that the English translation. Quite a pretty piece of work that!"

"Gracious!" cried Marcia, frowning over the queer jargon. "I can't make a thing out of it--or at least I couldn't if he hadn't put the English right alongside of the others. Oh, this must be the name!--'chok-gàk ê lâng'-'maker of melodies.' Did you _ever_ hear of such heathenish sounds? Well, now we'll see what Major Goodrich has to say to that. Father, will you send it right off to him?"

"At once!" announced the captain. "I'm just about as anxious as you folks, now, to get this mystery explained."

But the singular thing was that somehow the girls could not bring themselves to tell Cecily much about these latest developments. They thought it would make her feel strange and anxious to realize that there was a possibility of her being in any way related to a Chinese mandarin's daughter.

"And besides," remarked Janet, suddenly, when they were discussing it, "that's perfectly impossible, anyway, because her mother was English, and Cecily has lived with her all these years. So this talk about mandarin's daughters and things is perfectly ridiculous!"

"That's so!" echoed Marcia, in relief. "I didn't think of it at first. But, anyway, let's not tell Cecily about it till we know more. I do wish Aunt Minerva were here! I haven't written her about all this because there's so much to explain. I'd rather wait and tell her when she gets back. She said she was only going to be gone a little while, and here it's nearly two weeks!"

In three days an answer arrived from the major, and, as luck would have it, Cecily herself brought the letter upstairs with her as she came in.

"The postman was just going to drop it in your box," she explained, "and I asked him to let me take it to you, and save you the trouble of coming down for it." And she held it out to the captain.

"Aha!" he cried, as he caught sight of the writing. "_Now_ we'll hear some news! Why--what's the matter?" He had just glimpsed Marcia and Janet frantically signaling to him behind Cecily's back. "Don't you want me to open it?"

"Oh, not now," explained Marcia, as nonchalantly as she could. "I want Cecily to come out to the kitchen and help us make some fudge. Later will do." And she dragged the wondering Cecily down the hall, while the captain stared after them muttering, "Well! of all the--"

Cecily stayed rather late that afternoon. And for the first time in all their acquaintance, the girls were not sorry to have her go, so wild with anxiety were they to hear the major's letter. No sooner had the door closed upon her than they rushed back to the captain.

"What does he say?" they clamored.