"My Lady of the Beautiful Morning" believed in the education of story-telling; and she did not limit her stories wholly to tales with "morals," but told those that awakened the imagination. This she did for Lucy's sake and Charlie's, believing that all little people should pass through fairyland once in their lives.
She used, like Queen Scheherazade of the Arabian Nights, to gather up stories that pictured places, habits, and manners of the people, to relate; and this year, when the garden began to flower, she had many such to tell under the trees. Sky-High was always a listener. He was always permitted to be with the family in the evening. He loved wonder-tales. They carried him off as on an "enchanted carpet."
One evening Mrs. Van Buren said, "I have a new idea. Sky-High might tellussome stories. He speaks English well when he chooses. Sky-High, tell us some tale of your own country. You have wonder-tales in China."
"In the stories of my country animals talk," said Sky-High.
"Tell us some of your stories in which animals talk," said Lucy, clapping her hands.
"Animals always talk, everywhere," said Sky-High. "In China we interpret what they say."
The word "interpret" was rather a big one for Lucy. But as Sky-High was given to using unexpected words, the little girl was herself beginning to indulge in a larger vocabulary.
So Sky-High began to relate an old Chinese household story.
There was once a Donkey who had great respect for himself, as many people do. Such wear good clothes. You may know what a man thinks of himself by the clothes he wears. We Chinese moralize in our stories as we go along. We tellthink-tales.
One day the Self-respecting Donkey went out into some green meadows near a wood, and was eating grass when a Tiger appeared on the verge of the meadow. The Self-respecting Donkey was very much surprised, but did not lose his dignity. So he uttered a deep bray.
"Br-a-a-a!"
The Tiger, in his turn, was very much surprised—for the Donkey's voice seemed to penetrate the earth. But as soon as he collected his wits he crouched as if to spring upon the Donkey and make a meal of him.
The Self-respecting Donkey did not run. He moved with a slow, firm, and kingly step toward the Tiger. Then he dropped his head again, in such a way that his ears looked like great proclamations of wisdom and power.
"Br-a-a-a!"
His voice was truly terrible. The Tiger again quailed.
"Oh, Beast of the Voice of the Thunder-winds," said he, "thou canst dispute with me and the Lion the kingship among animals!"
The Donkey brayed again in a more terrible voice than before. "If you will accompany me into the wood," said he, "thou shalt see all animals flee from us."
The Tiger felt complimented by an association with the animal who had gained his voice from the thunder, and shortly they entered the wood.
The animals all fled when they saw them coming—not from the Donkey, but from the Tiger. Even the Raven dared not speak, and the Lion slunk back among the rocks; because a Tiger and a Donkey, together, might more than equal his terrifying roar.
"See," said the Donkey, "all nature flees before us. Now walk behind me, and I will show you the secret of my power."
The Tiger stepped behind; and the Donkey very quickly, in a pretty short time, showed him the secret of his power. He kicked the poor foolish Tiger in the head, breaking his nose, and stunning him. Then leaving him in the path for dead, he made good his escape.
"Any one can be great," said he, "if he knows how to use his power!" He was a philosopher.
When the poor Tiger came to his senses he rubbed his nose with his paw, and began to reflect on the lesson that he should learn from his association with a Donkey.
He reflected long and well—and never said anything about it to anyone.
"In my country," added little Sky-High, "we think that when one allows himself to get kicked by a donkey a long silence befits him—he can best show his wisdom in that way. Do you not think so, O Mandarin Americans?"
The "Mandarin Americans" quite agreed with the conclusion drawn by Sky-High.
It was about this time that little Lucy began to wonder if Sky-High were not a wang indeed. No common young Chinese could possess so many kinds of wisdom. He was able to read to her the labels on tea-chests, and to explain the odd figures on the many fans that decorated her playroom.
"How do you know so much, Sky-High?" she asked one day when he had told her the meaning of the pictures on an old Chinese porcelain in the upper hall.
"Many of the porcelains in our country are made to be read," he said. "All educated Chinese people can read porcelains. An American porcelain has no story."
Among the heirlooms to be found in the closets of many New England houses is a curious pattern of China plate. This plate is colored blue-and-white, and in the bowl of each is a picture. The picture represents a rural scene in China—a bridge on which are two young people, a man and a woman; a house, and a tree, and two birds of beautiful plumage flying away. Mrs. Van Buren had such a plate, and a platter with the same rural picture, on her dining-room wall.
It was the delight of Lucy to have Sky-High explain to her the meaning of the pictures on the Chinese vases and on an ornamental Chinese umbrella which hung in the reception-room. One day when Sky-High was dusting in the dining-room, Lucy's eye fell on the blue-and-white plate with the picture of the bridge and birds.
"Oh, Sky-High," said Lucy, "mother has a treasure here—a porcelain plate of your country, see!"
Sky-High looked up to the old porcelain.He had seen such a plate a thousand times; so often, in so many places, that Mrs. Van Buren's had not drawn his eye.
"It is a mandarin plate," he explained to Lucy. "It has a magic power; it brings good luck. My people keep those plates for good fortune."
"A magic plate?" Lucy was all curiosity, now. "Tell me the story of the magic plate," she said. "Sit down and tell me. Who are the young people on the bridge? Begin."
"They are the same as the birds flying away. The birds and the young people are one."
Lucy's interest in the magic plate grew. Sky-High promised to tell her its legend at some time when her mother should be present.
Lucy went at once to her mother. "Oh, mother, we have a magic plate!"
"We have? Where?"
"It is the blue-and-white one over the sideboard."
"Oh! is that a magic plate? That was your grandmother's plate. Old families used to value that kind of ware from China—I do not know why."
"Come with me, and take it down, for Sky-High knows the story of the picture."
Mrs. Van Buren went in and took the plate down; and little Sky-High said, "It is the mandarin plate of our country. In the plate you cannot see the Good Spirit in the air, but it is there. This Good Spirit in the air changespeople into other forms when trouble comes, and they fly away."
"But what is the story?" asked Lucy.
"There was once a prince," said Sky-High, "whose name was Chang. He was a good prince; and there he is—the young man in the plate.
"And Prince Chang, the Good, loved a beautiful princess, as good as she was pretty; and theresheis—the young woman in the plate.
"The prince and princess went to live on a beautiful isle, where was an orange-tree—see—and there was an old mandarin who lived near—see his house there—and he did not like the good prince and pretty princess when he saw how happy they were on the Isle of the Orange-tree.
"So he determined to separate them; and one day, when he was very full of dislike, he went towards the bridge that led to the Beautiful Isle to catch them. But something very wonderful happened."
"Oh, whatdidhappen?" said Lucy. "I can hardly wait to learn."
"The Good Spirit of the air saw the grim old mandarin stealing away toward the bridge to cross to the Beautiful Isle of the Orange-tree, and he changed the prince and princess into two birds and they flew away. See them flying there at the top of the plate!"
"I will give you the plate," said Mrs. VanBuren to Lucy; "for it was your grandmother's plate, and her name was Lucy, and she would be glad, were she living, to have you delight in a legend like that. It is good to think that a loving Spirit hovers over us when evil draws near us—I like the parable of the plate. I thank you for the story, Sky-High. Your country has good stories."
"The story of the mandarin plate," said the little Chinaman, "is also told in my country in a more tragic way; that the lovely girl is the mandarin's daughter, and that he slays the lovers, and that it is their souls that are seen flying away in the two birds. But it is the other story that our scholars like."
Charles and Lucy wished to give Sky-High a surprise. They had come into possession of a kite which had been described to them as marvelous, and they got their mother's permission to take the little Chinaman to Franklin Park to see them fly it for the first time.
Franklin Park is not far from Milton Hill; and the street-cars readily carry the crowds of children to the pleasure-grounds of the immense common of woods, fields, great rocks and elms, and whole prairies of grass. It is quite free—the dwellers of close Boston and its bowery suburbs own the vast pleasure-place—the people could hardly have more privileges there did each one hold a deed of it. Little Sky-High thought this wonderful when it was explained to him.
The Van Burens had ample grounds of their own, but Mrs. Van Buren and the children liked to go to Franklin Park. Mrs. Van Buren liked to sit in the great stone Emerson arbor on Schoolmaster's Hill, and watch the white flocks of English sheep wander to and fro andfeed, guarded and guided by shepherd-dogs, and to gaze away in an idle reverie at the Blue Hills under the purple charm of distance.
No one jeered now when the Van Buren children appeared in the street with the little Chinaman. Nobody cried, "Rat-tail!" Nobody cried, "Washee-washee-wang!" He often rode with them in the carriage. People looked at him, to be sure, but only with interest—the fame of his accomplishments in the English language had gone abroad.
It was a beautiful early summer day, the white daisies waving in the west wind. Crossing the field, from a little green hill the children prepared to send up the new kite. Out of his narrow black eyes little Sky-High looked at it, as they took it from the package and sent it up. It seemed simply a frame-work, but presently the American flag rolled out in the sky, as though it hung alone, or had bloomed there.
Sky-High beheld it with pleasure. Great was America! He was contented to sit and watch it for hours, or as long as the children pleased. It was not until sunset that the starry kite was hauled down through the golden air, and Lucy and Charles prepared to return home.
On the way the little serving-man said, "I have a kite in my trunk. You let me fly it for you some day? You come with me here?"
So another breezy day the Van Buren children came to the Park with Sky-High. Lucydanced about in the green world for very light-heartedness.
"You stay at the overlook," said Sky-High, pointing to the wild-flower embankment surrounded by burning azalias, "and I will show you how Chinese boys fly kites."
He had brought a thin package under his arm, and while Lucy and Charles waited at the embankment he ran like a thing of air out into the open field.
It was a glorious June day; and the great elms with their fresh young foliage were glimmering thick in the fiery sky, and like an emerald sea was the grass on the field, where hundreds of children were playing ball and other games.
Sky-High threw to the air a bundle of red with a few light angles and circles of bamboo, and it began at once to rise and expand. It went up into the mid-air, and fold after fold rolled out, and there appeared a great dragon.
All the children on the field stopped in their play to look up at it. The sun turned the dragon to intense red. To all appearance a terrible monster had taken possession of the air!
Suddenly the dragon wheeled about and went coiling along towards the overlook, Sky-High following and guiding its course. When it was just overhead it opened a great mouth, and smoke seemed to issue from it.
"Look out, little Lady of the Lotus," cried Sky-High merrily, "or it may swallow you!"
The little girl ran aside, but the dragon made no attempt to come down. When at a height some twenty feet above the earth it paused. Then suddenly, with a puff, it poured down a shower of flowers, butterflies, and gilded paper, like a gold shower. The air was full of them; they drifted here, there, and everywhere. All the children on the field ran to behold the wonder. Everybody shouted, and a great crowd of little people gathered around Sky-High to pick up the tissue flowers and butterflies.
"Ah," said the little Chinaman, "you ought to see him do that in the night, when all he sends down turns into fire!"
There never had been seen a kite like Sky-High's before. But the Chinese have been masters of kite-flying for more than two thousand years. Among their national festivals they have a kite-flying day.
Sky-High often came there with his magic kite. He became a very popular boy in the Park. The Boston boys said "Hello!" when they met him in his azure suit, quiet fun shining in his eyes. Lucy and Charles walked by his side with pride. They introduced him to all of their friends who asked it, and everybody spoke of him.
"Oh, he is such a gentleman, and so educated! Haven't you heard about him? He came to learn how to do business and understand our American homes. He will go back to his country and teach sometime. No doubta working-boy can rise in China the same as in our land!"
Lucy often begged her mother to let Sky-High wear his beautiful Chinese clothes to the Park—with his kite he would seem like a true enchanter! But Mrs. Van Buren strictly forbade.
One day there was heard a tremendous explosion in the department of Sky-High. Mrs. Van Buren came running down-stairs. Lucy followed her, all eyes and ears. Irish Nora met them, running up-stairs. The kitten fled out, and jumped over the fence. The parrot was shrieking.
Above Sky-High's door, Mrs. Van Buren saw a strange black character on a big red paper. It was a square character and somewhat like a heavy "X" and also somewhat like a heavy "H."
Sky-High stood calmly ironing inside his little house at the end of the grape-arbor.
Nora followed her mistress to that abode of mystery.
"It's dynamated we are to be sure!" said she. "I shut my eyes and run, for I thought it was Sky-High that had gone off—but there he stood ironing! And there he stands now!"
"Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren, "what was that sound I heard?"
"Crackers, mistress."
"We are only allowed to fire crackers on holidays. Why did you light crackers?"
"To disperse the evil spirits, mistress, the dragons in the air, the imps. It is the way we serve them in China."
"There are no evil spirits here, Sky-High. What could have made you think that there were, Sky-High?"
"The cat—she is long bewitched after my queue. I fired the crackers to dis-power her—I saw her tail going over the fence! She is dis-possessed. She will not jump at Sky-High's queue any more. We shoot crackers in China when evil spirits come in the air. China is a spirit-land, mistress. Our air is filled with bright spirits and dark ones. When the cat begins to frisk its tail, we know there has come a company of evil spirits. The little cat's tail this morning went snap-snap!"
"Oh, Sky-High! there are no evil spirits in this blooming garden," said his mistress. "The little white cat is possessed by a playful spirit, perhaps. What is that strange figure in black on the red paper flag over the door?"
"That is the wan, mistress."
"And what is the wan, Sky-High?"
"The mystic sign that warns off evil spirits."
"Did I not say there are no evil spirits here?"
Here little Sky-High's eyes began to blink. "Why did master put a horse-shoe over the stable-door?"
Lucy looked up at her mother. And said Nora, "I would discharge that sassbox of a Chinese at once!"
"Have you more crackers, Sky-High?"
"In my chest, mistress."
"Keep them until the Fourth of July, Sky-High. At any time when you think there are evil spirits about, come up to me."
"May Sky-High let the wan fly over his door?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Van Buren; "while the horse-shoe remains over the stable to keep witches out, you may let the wan stay. You have as much right to your superstitions as we to ours."
Sky-High in a serene and beautiful spirit continued ironing,
Nora went back to her pantry. "It's not I that likes the foreign boy under the roof," she said. "He'll be convertin' the mistress into a haythen! It'll not be long I'll be here!"
Lucy sat down outside among the trees and birds and watched the wan waving gently in the wind. How neat Sky-High looked in his flowing dress of white and blue! She wondered again if he were not indeed a wang! After a while she made up her mind to relate a Jataka story that night.
The curious tales their little serving-man had told, he called Jataka legends—all of them parables to illustrate the teachings of the divine Buddha. (Also these tales had accountsof mountains that were more than a million miles high, of trees that were a thousand miles tall, and of fishes that were thousands of miles long.)
These tales had enchanted Lucy, though Charlie cared little for them—he preferred to hear of kites and other Chinese games. But Lucy seemed to catch their spirit. And in the evening, when Sky-High sat with them under the trees or in the balconies, she often said, "Now tell us a Jataka story!"
But one night she had said instead, "Now letmetellyoua Jataka story!"
The idea that Lucy had a Jataka story seemed to greatly amuse Sky-High. But the tale itself set his black eyes shining and blinking. This had been Lucy's tale:
"Sky-High, I dreamed that you were a wang and had lived in a palace."
To-day she sat a long time in the arbor to compose the tale she would tell in the evening when they would be on the veranda, with Sky-High on the stair at their feet.
So in the evening she said, "I have composed another Jataka story. Would you like to hear it, mother? Would you, Sky-High?"
Now the little Chinaman began his stories with words like these, for most Jataka stories so begin:
"Once upon a time in the days of Buddha-Atta in Benares."
To-night Lucy began her tale in nearly the same manner—the words sounded so fine.
"Once on a time,afterthe days of Buddha-Atta in Benares, there was a little Chinese boy who was born a wang, which is a king. And they called him Wang High-Sky.
"And he lived in a palace, and the stairs of the palace were golden amber, and the windows were of crystal, and all the knives and forks were made of pearl and silver.
"And they told little Wang High-Sky that there were countries beyond the water, also.
"And the little Wang High-Sky said, 'Let me go and see. There may be something I can learn in other lands. There may be queer people there—if so, I would never laugh at them. Let me go and see how they live!'
"And they put him on board a dragon boat,with lanterns of silver and pearls, and with sails of silk, and carried him to the great hotel on the water, that had come from other lands, which was called a ship. For there truly were people beyond the water.
"And little Wang High-Sky was a very bright boy. He had a diamond in his brain. So he found a place to live in an awfully good family, and in the family was a little girl named Lucy.
"And he worked and worked and worked until he could do all things like the good family.
"And one day he thought he would go home to his palace with stairs of golden amber and windows of crystal.
"And Lucy thought she would like to see the people in little Wang's country.
"And Lucy's father and mother said they would take her to the country of little Wang when he went back.
"And she went to little Wang's country, and she found the trees there a hundred miles high, and the fishes two hundred miles long, and horses winged with gold as if just about to fly, and they staid and kept house in Wang High-Sky's palace two thousand years.
"And she and her father and mother and brother were very joyful when they all came back.
"And in their own country they found that every one had become rich and happy, and thatpeople flew about like birds, and that the sun shone in the night. And!" she added, "isn't that a Jataka story?"
Lucy's mother seemed much pleased, also astonished; but Sky-High said nothing for some time.
"Do you think me a wang?" asked he, at last.
"I wish you were—oh, how Charlie and I would dance about if you were! I think the everyday boys in China cannot be like you. And I do not think you ironed clothes in China. I wish youwerea king's son!"
"And what if I were?"
"Oh—I don't know," laughed little Lucy. "Don't we treat you as well as if you were? Ladies and gentlemen treat ladies and gentlemen like wangs in America. Don't we, mother?"
"I trust so. I trust our little Sky-High has found it so," answered Lucy's mother.
"So would Sky-High treat you were you to come to his home," said the little Chinaman.
"But you have no home, Sky-High," broke in Charlie. "You said you lived with a mandarin!"
The little Chinaman, who had a beautiful fan in his hand, for it was a hot night, made his mistress and her children a bow of indescribable grace, and went to his own quarters.
The little Chinaman seemed to make no very great task of learning "the art of the American home." His small deft olive hand was more or less upon everything, from cellar to attic.
"Ithink our house-boy knew how to keep a house beautiful, mother, before he came to our country," said Lucy one day.
"Well, perhaps hewasa wang," said her mother, "anddidlive in a palace!"
"Doesn't Mr. Consul Bradley know about him, mother?"
"Consul Bradley says Sky-High's father is a good man, and that Sky-High is a good boy with a bright mind. Of course, Lucy, there are nice Chinese people and nice Chinese homes."
Certainly the little house-boy was wonderfully energetic. He was able to save every Thursday for himself, and always went into Boston on that day and, as Mrs. Van Buren learned, visited the consular office.
One day Mrs. Van Buren asked, "What do you do all day in town, Sky-High?"
"I see Boston, mistress."
"And what is it you see?"
"The American stores, mistress, and the American little Kinder-schools, and the American great college-schools, and the American railcar shops, and the American hotels, and the American markets, and the Americans, mistress."
"And who goes with you on these visits, Sky-High?"
An attack of blinking seized little Sky-High. "The consul, he goes."
Mrs. Van Buren drove into town next day. While there she made a call upon the Chinese consular agent. Lucy was with her. Consul Bradley appeared to have little fresh information to give.
"The boy's father is a good man," he said. "Like the wise fathers everywhere he craves knowledge for his son. I promised him Sky-High should see something of Boston, and I do for him all I can."
"Mother," said Lucy on the way home, "we might be nicer to Sky-High. Listen!"
Her mother listened to Lucy's plan, and gave permission.
When Lucy got home she said to Sky-High, "We want you to go to church with us; and Charlie and I want you to go with us to our Sunday school. There are Chinese Sunday schools in Boston, but we wish you to be in ours."
"I will have to wear my queue, and my flowing clothes, Lucy," said the boy.
"But, Sky-High, you can braid your braid close, and wind it around your head, and put on your black tunic, and you shall sit in our pew. Besides, anyway, it would be proper for a person of China to wear his braid down his back after the custom of his country."
"You speak as kindly as would the daughter of a wang!" said Sky-High, with his beautiful bow of ceremony.
On Sunday the little Chinaman dressed his hair becomingly and put on black clothes, with white ruffles. He sat in the Van Buren pew, beside Charlie. He listened to the organ like one entranced. It was Easter Day, and the house was full of the odor of lilies. The text for the service was these words of Jesus: "If any man keep my sayings he shall never see death."
The "Joss preacher," as he called the minister, came and spoke to him, and invited him to go into the Sunday-school room.
In the evening he made Chinese tea, and served it in the library, and afterward sat with the family.
Suddenly he said, "Mistress, what were the 'sayings' of Jesus? Sky-High wishes to live on forever."
Mrs. Van Buren read the Beatitudes.
"And what is the heaven, mistress?"
"Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren, veryearnestly, to her little servant, "I scarcely know how to tell you what heaven is, only that we surely have a part in its building here by our Loving and our Helping here. You know how dear it is to be with those you love, you know how pleasant it is to meet again those you have helped. That is the law of the soul. God loves and helps us, and will rejoice in having us abide with him, and that will make us happy; and all whom we have made better and happier here will help make our heaven for us. Heaven is the gladness of Loving and Helping as nearly as I know."
"That heaven—it is beautiful, mistress," said little Sky-High. In his own country, it had been pleasant music to hear the "prayer-wheels" go round in the temples, whirling the paper prayers fastened upon them, but the pleasure he felt at this moment was different.
"I will help many, mistress," he said. "Perhaps Sky-High will help the boys that pull his queue on the street when he goes errands to the stores. Sky-High will go with his mistress and her children other Sundays, if he may. Goodnight, mistress!"
So ended the Easter Sunday of the little Chinaman.
One June evening, in the balcony, when Sky-High inquired about American holidays, Mrs. Van Buren related to him the story of Washington and of the American Independence. She enlivened her narratives by Weems's story of the boy Washington and the hatchet.
"He never told a lie?" asked Sky-High. "Was that so wonderful? Confucius, he tell no lies; Sky-High, he tell no lies."
Mrs. Van Buren described to him Independence Day, and how it was celebrated. Sky-High asked many questions, and began to look forward to the celebration.
On the morning of the Fourth the sun came up red, and glimmered on the cool sea and dewy trees. To Sky-High the air seemed to blossom with flags; the far State House dome rose like an orb of gold above the bunting that floated over the great forest of Boston Common.
Cannon rent the morning silence, and everywhere there were crackers bursting. Even the milkmen fired them as they went on their early way.
Sky-High danced about. "You have Cracker Day! It is all same as China!" he said.
Some of the Milton boys who had many bunches of fire-crackers, good-naturedly thought they would startle little Washee-washee-wang at his work. So they stole around a corner of the garden, where he was busy in his neat little cabin, and "lit" a whole bunch and threw it over the fence, at a point where all would "go off" right at his door, then threw after it two cannon crackers, whose fuses burned slowly.
When the small crackers began to explode Sky-High, to whom the noise was like music, came and stood in the door and danced with delight.
Irish Norah heard the rattling explosions in the garden, and ran out.
"China! China!" shouted Sky-High. "Red crackers make the bad spirits fly! The garden all free from evil spirits all day."
Just then both of the cannon crackers in the grass "went off," with a deafening bang. Norah jumped, and put her fat hands to her ears. But little Sky-High clapped his after the American fashion. His delight in the racket and in the smell of the gunpowder was so intense, that Charlie forebore to go out on the street, but staid in and fired his immense supply in front of the cabin.
In the evening there were fireworks everywhere, small and great. The children and Sky-High went up to a turret overlooking thesea. The sky over the towns around Boston blazed.
"I will show you something fine," suddenly said Sky-High, after he had gazed for some time.
He went down and unlocked his great chest. He spoke to Mrs. Van Buren's friends on the verandah as he came back. "Sky-High, he is going to fire a star! Look this side!"
He called to all as he "fired the star." The company saw a dark, swift object ascending. It was soon lost to sight, and then appeared a wonder—a new star high in the heavens, that burned a long time with a steady flame and grew. How beautiful it was! At last it began to descend. When near the earth it burst into a hundred stars of seven colors. In all Boston there was no firework as wonderful as Sky-High's.
The day after he began to inquire about the next American holiday.
Mrs. Van Buren told him about Thanksgiving Day. Then she told him of Christmas, and how the Christmas festival was kept. She related the story of the birth of the Christ Child, and of the Bethlehem star, of the singing angels in the sky, of the Magi, and the manger; of the presents of gold and myrrh and nard. She told him how that now all people of "good will" made presents to each other like the magi to the Christ Child.
"So will Sky-High make you presents on theChrist Child day, then, he has good will. You have treated him as though he were no servant but a prince."
Charlie and Lucy told him of the Christmas-tree, and the plays under the misletoe. Their mother ordered misletoe from Florida every year, for Christmas decorations, from a plantation which their father owned near Tampa, a plantation of grape-fruit groves. She had a mistle-thrush among her caged birds, that always sang very sweetly when she hung it under the newly-gathered waxy misletoe.
From that time on, the little Chinaman dreamed of Christmas. One day he said to Mrs. Van Buren, "You will surely let Sky-High come up-stairs on the night of the Christmas-tree?"
"Yes, yes, you shall come up-stairs with us, and you shall hear the Christmas thrush sing under the misletoe."
Sky-High's heart fluttered, not at what he hoped to see, but at the thought of the presents that he hoped to make.
Shortly before Christmas Mrs. Van Buren went to her little servant to pay him his wages, for he had accepted no payment as yet.
"Keep it all for me," he said, as usual; "I will ask for it when I need it."
Mrs. Van Buren was very much surprised. "Young people in this country," said she, "think they need a little money before Christmas day to buy presents."
"Sky-High needs none. He will make you presents on the Christ Child day. He has them now in his chest."
Mrs. Van Buren could not but wonder what the presents would be. Everything that Sky-High did had a surprise in it. All things that came out of the chest were of an astonishing character.
"And I will serve you the tea that you have not yet tasted," added the little servant. "On the Christ Child night I will make in the cup the tea that came from the eyelashes of the Dharma. And afterwards I will tell you the story of the Dharma."
Again, a day or two before the holiday of Good Will, Sky-High's mistress asked him to take his wages.
"Keep it for me, mistress," said the boy as before. "Sky-High, he works for the good of his people."
Mrs. Van Buren stood pondering the words. What meant the little Washee-washee-wang?
"Mistress," said the boy, busy folding the glossy napkins on the ironing table, "the master plans to make a voyage around the world with his family."
"Yes, Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren, "that the children may see the world before they begin to study about it."
"And you will come to my country, mistress?"
"Yes; we hope to visit at least Hong Kong and Canton, Shanghai and Pekin."
"You will wish to see the home of Sky-High, mistress."
"Yes, we would like to see you in your own country."
"When will the master go?"
"Next year, probably."
"Sky-High will go home next year. Will you let him go with you, mistress? He will serve you on the ships, and in China he will make your visit pleasant. He will interpret for you, and show you about, and introduce you about."
Mrs. Van Buren was too kind to let her astonishment be seen by her little serving-man. She said that possibly it might be so arranged.
As she went up-stairs she heard Nora exclaiming to herself in the pantry. "And he says he'll inthroduce the misthress about, and the misthress is narely as quare!"
After supper Mrs. Van Buren related to her husband the singular interview she had had with their little Chinaman. Sky-High's kind offers seemed to amuse him for a long time. "But as for the little fellow's wages," said he, "don't bother. I'll step in to the consul's, and deposit them with Bradley."
When Sky-High found that he was serving to amuse his mistress's household, he turned silent. He worked, asking few questions, and listened to even the children without answering them.
This disturbed Charlie and Lucy.
"See here, Sky-High, can't you take a joke?" demanded Charlie.
"Sky-High no joke with the mistress. Sky-High no make a lie!" said the patient Chinaman; "Sky-High, his heart is hurt."
The day before Christmas Lucy came to her mother with a request. "Just one thing, mother! And it isn't more presents—the Good Will tree hangs full!"
"Well, then, what is it, Lucy?" asked Mrs. Van Buren.
Little Lucy laughed. "A Chinese Santa Claus, mother! Think what a Santa Claus Sky-High would make in his flowing robes of black, yellow, and white all sprinkled over with silver and gold! Nearly all the gifts are Chinese, you know—all but ours for him. Just remember how he looked last summer on Sunday afternoons when the birds flew down to admire him!"
Yes, the birds seemed to have felt a curiosity about the little Chinaman when he went out into the garden with the children after Sunday luncheon; for sometimes, on that day, he used to put on garments so splendid that he did not like to show himself above stairs or on the street, and the birds came out of thetrees to take a peep at him. One of these garments was a frock of silk covered with golden dragons, lotus-flowers, and gilded fringes; and with it he wore a golden butterfly with jeweled wings on his rimless cap.
Even Mr. Van Buren had wondered where a servant obtained such a glittering robe! One day he described the wardrobe of his house-boy to the consul. "Is everything all right?" he asked.
The consul laughed. "You don't know China!" he said. "Probably the old Manchurian mandarin had a fancy for decking out the boy!"
Nora's eyes used to double in size when she saw him in silk and gold and silver, with the jeweled butterfly waving above his narrow black eyes. "There's not the loikes on this planet," she would say. "I would think he'd stepped off a star and landed here! Queen Victory never looked the aqual of that little hathen varmit!"
It was agreed that Sky-High should be made the Santa Claus of the Christmas party. He promised to appear in his dragon robe, though he said it was never worn in public excepting on vice-royal occasions.
"Sky-High, did you ever see a vice-royal occasion?" asked Lucy, wondering what the double word meant.
"Yea, my little Lady of the Lotus," answered the house-boy. "And once I was present on aroyal occasion in Pekin. The Son of Heaven appeared that day in all his splendor."
"You waited on your mandarin?" asked Lucy.
"I attended upon my mandarin—yes?" Little Sky-High burst forth into the forbidden "flowery language." "It was in the Purple City. Barbarians cannot understand; but in our court, in the Inner City, in the ancient Purple City, we associate with the Sun and Moon and the Dragon that swallows the Sun. The Sacred Lotus is our flower, and at the feast the heavens are made to shine on us!"
Lucy's face shone too, just to hear the words of the mysterious little "Washee-washee-wang,"—in fact she had been radiant ever since she had first thought of making a Santa Claus of him. She wondered how he would look to her mother's friends on Christ Child night, wearing his "celestial" robes.
The children were to have their own tree on Christmas eve, at the church among the evergreens and music, and Sky-High was to accompany them in his black clothes and white ruffles. The Christmas night tree was always at home, for Mrs. Van Buren and her friends.
Little Lucy was to lead the Christmas night jollities, and only the Santa Claus himself knew what would follow the wave of the long Chinese wand which she carried.
The guests gathered early—half a dozen ladies—for it was to be a story-telling evening.
Promptly at the moment when Lucy waved for him, little Sky-High came into the parlors fanning slowly with his great ceremonial fan, as if entering some languid pagoda garden of his native land. Every guest leaned forward to gaze at the gorgeous stranger. His silk stockings were white, over black shoes with silver buckles and whitened soles. His robe sparkled gaily with the dragon and lotus, and the butterfly on his gold-banded cap shook its jeweled wings with every step. He wore a sash of gems which the family had not seen before. He moved before the company like a figure of sunshine.
Little Lucy had come to his side. "I have the great felicity," she began—she had got the fine word from Sky-High—"to have a celestial Santa Claus, a wang from China, to serve you the gifts from the Good Will tree."
The glittering wang bowed to the four corners of the earth, then to all, turning round and round in dazzling circles.
No, Mrs. Van Buren's Christmas guests had never seen a Santa Claus like this one! All eyes were wide with pleased wonder.
"Isn't he perfectly splendid?" whispered Lucy, tripping over to the wife of the rector.
"He is indeed, dear," said the rector's wife; and added low to her neighbor, "Is it not their wonderful house-boy?"
No one was certain. And no one, excepting Lucy and the Santa Claus, knew what were thegifts on the Good Will tree. Lucy and little Sky-High had bought them in Boston. All those for the guests were blue-and-white mandarin plates, wrapped in squares of gay silk crape, and tied with a profusion of soft gold cord. As the packages were alike, the celestial Santa Claus could present them without mistakes.
But there were some packages in red-and-gold crape still on the tree, not large ones—not magic plates, certainly.
The Santa Claus unwrapped the three which he next took from the green branches. The presents were amulets. When unfolded they revealed bells and gems; the bells looked like gold; the gems like pure pearls, opals, and crystals. One was a necklace for Mrs. Van Buren; one a bracelet for Lucy; and the other a charm for Charles.
The amulets awakened a great surprise. The little golden bells burned with the red lusters of rubies, and tinkled as though they were dream-bells.
"They keep evil spirits away," said Sky-High, with sparkling eyes. "They ring warnings."
Mrs. Van Buren rose and put one of the other packages in little Sky-High's hand. The wrappings revealed a four-fold case of gold, which some curious mechanism permitted to open into leaves, and stand us a tablet, or half-closed. Each leaf held a small and perfect portrait—the four were of the little serving-man'smistress and her children and the master; and it is impossible to describe the blissful expression in Sky-High's eyes when he first looked upon the familiar faces.
And there was still another package. That one the little Chinaman had put on the Good Will tree for Nora.
It was an English gold sovereign in a case tied with red ribbon.
"And may the Angel of Mercy spread her white wings over that hathen boy's pigtail!" said Nora, as she was given the gift. "I wish I had something for him. I will give him kind words now, and sure!"