“The Sing Song Woman! The Sing Song Woman!” It was a wild cry of anger
and surprise.
The ceremony of unveiling the bride had just been performed, and Hwuy
Yen, the father of Mag-gee, and his friends, were in a state of great
excitement, for the unveiled, brilliantly clothed little figure standing
in the middle of the room was not the bride who was to have been; but Ah
Oi, the actress, the Sing Song Woman.
Every voice but one was raised. The bridegroom, a tall, handsome man,
did not understand what had happened, and could find no words to express
his surprise at the uproar. But he was so newly wedded that it was not
until Hwuy Yen advanced to the bride and shook his hand threateningly in
her face, that he felt himself a husband, and interfered by placing
himself before the girl.
“What is all this?” he inquired. “What has my wife done to merit such
abuse?”
“Your wife!” scornfully ejaculated Hwuy Yen. “She is no wife of yours.
You were to have married my daughter, Mag-gee. This is not my daughter;
this is an impostor, an actress, a Sing Song Woman. Where is my
daughter?”
Ah Oi laughed her peculiar, rippling, amused laugh. She was in no wise
abashed, and, indeed, appeared to be enjoying the situation. Her bright,
defiant eyes met her questioner’s boldly as she answered:
“Mag-gee has gone to eat beef and potatoes with a white man. Oh, we had
such a merry time making this play!”
“See how worthless a thing she is,” said Hwuy Yen to the young
bridegroom.
The latter regarded Ah Oi compassionately. He was a man, and perhaps a
little tenderness crept into his heart for the girl towards whom so much
bitterness was evinced. She was beautiful. He drew near to her.
“Can you not justify yourself?” he asked sadly.
For a moment Ah Oi gazed into his eyes—the only eyes that had looked
with true kindness into hers for many a moon.
“You justify me,” she replied with an upward, pleading glance.
Then Ke Leang, the bridegroom, spoke. He said: “The daughter of Hwuy Yen
cared not to become my bride and has sought her happiness with another.
Ah Oi, having a kind heart, helped her to that happiness, and tried to
recompense me my loss by giving me herself. She has been unwise and
indiscreet; but the good that is in her is more than the evil, and now
that she is my wife, none shall say a word against her.”
Ah Oi pulled at his sleeve.
“You give me credit for what I do not deserve,” said she. “I had no kind
feelings. I thought only of mischief, and I am not your wife. It is but
a play like the play I shall act tomorrow.”
“Hush!” bade Ke Leang. “You shall act no more. I will marry you again
and take you to China.”
Then something in Ah Oi’s breast, which for a long time had been hard as
stone, became soft and tender, and her eyes ran over with tears.
“Oh, sir,” said she, “it takes a heart to make a heart, and you have put
one today in the bosom of a Sing Song Woman.”
_Tales of Chinese Children_