As Mr. Van Buren was a prudent, wise, and good-natured man, he left all
the affairs of housekeeping to his wife. He had so seldom been "below
stairs" that he never had even made the acquaintance of Polly, the
lively bird of the kitchen. The kitten sometimes came up to visit him;
on which occasions she simply purred, and sank down to rest on his knee.
After supper was over, Mr. Van Buren caught Lucy up.
"And now what amusing thing is it that my little girl has to tell
me--something new that Nora has told you of the Fairy Shoemaker?"
"There's really a wonderful thing down in the kitchen, father," said
Lucy; "wonderfuller than anything in the Fairy Shoemaker tales."
"And where did it come from?"
"Down from the sun, father, and Nora says it came in a coach!"
Mr. Van Buren turned to his wife.
"It came from the Consul's," she said--"from Consul Bradley's."
"Has Consul Bradley been here?" he asked, thinking some Chinese curio
had been shipped over. Consul Bradley was a Chinese consular agent, a
man of considerable wealth, with a large knowledge of the world, and
a friend of the Van Buren family.
"No," said Mrs. Van Buren, "but his coach-man has brought me a
kitchen-boy."
"Well, that _is_ rather wonderful! Is that what you have
down-stairs, Lucy?"
"That doesn't half tell it, father," cried Charlie. "He's a little
Chineseman!"
"I was in the Consul's office this morning," went on Mrs. Van Buren,
smiling at her husband's astonishment; "and the Consul said to me,
'Wouldn't you like to have a neat, trim, tidy, honest, faithful,
tender-hearted, polite boy to learn general work?' I said to the Consul,
'Yes, that is the person that I have been needing for years.' He said,
'Would you have any prejudice against a little Chinese servant, if he
were trusty, after the general principles I have described?' I said to
him, 'None whatever.' He continued: 'A Chinese lad from Manchuria has
been sent to me by a friend in the hong, and I am asked to find him a
place to learn American home-making ideas in one of the best families.
Your family is that place--shall I send him?' So he came in the Consul's
coach, as Lucy said, and with him an immense trunk covered with Chinese
brush-marks. He seems to be a little gentleman; and when I asked him his
name he said, 'The Consul told me to tell you to call me Sky-High.'
He doesn't speak except to make replies, but these are in very good
English."
"May I give my opinion?" asked little Lucy.
"Well, Lucy," said her mother, smiling, "what is your opinion?"
"He looks like an emperor's son, or a mandarin," said Lucy.
"And what put such a thought into your head?" asked her mother.
"The pictures on my Chinese fans," said Lucy promptly.
"Well," said Mrs. Van Buren, "if he does well, you shall treat him
exactly as though he were the son of an emperor or a wang--he says that
kings are called wangs in his land."
"Then he would be a little wang," said Lucy. "I will make believe he is
a little wang while he stays."
So Sky-High became a little wang to Lucy; and a wonderful little wang he
promised to be.
At Mr. Van Buren's wish, little Sky-High was sent for. The Chinese boy
asked Charlie, who went down for him, that he might have time to change
his dress so that he might suitably appear before "the mandarin in the
parlor." (A "mandarin" in China is a kind of mayor or magistrate of rank
more or less exalted.)
Charlie came back with the kitchen-boy's message. "He says that he wants
a little time to change his clothes so that he may suitably appear
before the mandarin in the parlor."
"The mandarin in the parlor!" exclaimed Mr. Van Buren, in a burst of
laughter. "My father used to speak of mandarins--he traded ginseng for
silks and teas at Canton in the days of the hongs--the open market or
trading-places. That was a generation ago. There are no longer any
store-houses for ginseng on the wharves of Boston. Yet my father made
all his money in this way. 'The mandarin in the parlor.' Sky-High has
a proper respect for superiors; I like the boy for that."
By and by the sound of soft feet were heard at the folding-doors.
"Come in, Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren.
The little kitchen-boy appeared, and all eyes lighted up in wonder.
He wore a silk tunic fringed with what looked like gold. His stockings
were white, and his shoes were spangled with silver. The broad sleeves
of his tunic were richly embroidered--he seemed to wing himself in. A
beautiful fan was in his hand, which he very slowly waved to and fro, as
if following some custom. Mrs. Van Buren wondered if servants in China
came fanning themselves when summoned by their master. Sky-High bowed
and bowed and bowed again, then moved with a gliding motion in front of
Mr. Van Buren's chair, still bowing and bowing, and there he remained
in an attentive bent attitude. The kitten leaped up from Mr. Van Buren's
knee, then jumped down, plainly with an intention to play with the
tempting pigtail--but Lucy sprang and captured the snowy little creature.
"So you are Sky-High?" said Mr. Van Buren. "Well, a right neat and
smart-looking boy you are!"
"The Mandarin of Milton!" said the glittering little fellow, bending.
"My ancestors have heard of the mandarins of Boston and Milton, even in
the days of Hoqua."
"Hoqua?" Mr. Van Buren looked at the boy with interest, "You know of
Hoqua?"
"Who is Hoqua?" asked Mrs. Van Buren.