“The father of the little boy who is with us tonight.”

“Wou Sankwei! Why, here he comes with Lee Tong Hay. Are you acquainted with Lee Tong Hay?”

“No, but I believe Aunt is. Plays and sings in vaudeville, doesn’t he?”

“Yes; he can turn himself into a German, a Scotchman, an Irishman, or an American, with the greatest ease, and is as natural in each character as he is as a Chinaman. Hello, Lee Tong Hay.”

“Hello, Mr. Stimson.”

While her friend was talking to the lively young Chinese who had answered his greeting, Adah went over to where Wou Sankwei stood speaking to Mrs. Dean.

“Yen begins school next week,” said her aunt, drawing her arm within her own. It was time to go home.

Adah made no reply. She was settling her mind to do something quite out of the ordinary. Her aunt often called her romantic and impractical. Perhaps she was.

VI

“AUNTIE WENT OUT OF TOWN this morning,” said Adah Charlton. “I, ’phoned for you to come up, Sankwei because I wished to have a personal and private talk with you.”

“Any trouble, Miss Adah,” inquired the young merchant. “Anything I can do for you?”

Mrs. Dean often called upon him to transact little business matters for her or to consult with him on various phases of her social and family life.

“I don’t know what I would do without Sankwei’s head to manage for me,” she often said to her niece.

“No,” replied the girl, “you do too much for us. You always have, ever since I’ve known you. It’s a shame for us to have allowed you.”

“What are you talking about, Miss Adah? Since I came to America your aunt has made this house like a home to me, and, of course, I take an interest in it and like to do anything for it that a man can. I am always happy when I come here.”

“Yes, I know you are, poor old boy,” said Adah to herself.

Aloud she said: “I have something to say to you which I would like you to hear. Will you listen, Sankwei?”

“Of course I will,” he answered.

“Well then,” went on Adah, “I asked you to come here today because I have heard that there is trouble at your house and that your wife is jealous of you.”

“Would you please not talk about that, Miss Adah. It is a matter which you cannot understand.”

“You promised to listen and heed. I do understand, even though I cannot speak to your wife nor find out what she feels and thinks. I know you, Sankwei, and I can see just how the trouble has arisen. As soon as I heard that your wife was jealous I knew why she was jealous.”

“Why?” he queried.

“Because,” she answered unflinchingly, “you are thinking far too much of other women.”

“Too much of other women?” echoed Sankwei dazedly. “I did not know that.”

“No, you didn’t. That is why I am telling you. But you are, Sankwei. And you are becoming too Americanized. My aunt encourages you to become so, and she is a good woman, with the best and highest of motives; but we are all liable to make mistakes, and it is a mistake to try and make a Chinese man into an American—if he has a wife who is to remain as she always has been. It would be different if you were not married and were a man free to advance. But you are not.”