The baby was asleep. Ku Yum looked curiously at her little brother as he
lay in placid slumber. His head was to be shaved for the first time that
afternoon, and he was dressed for the occasion in three padded silk
vests, sky-blue trousers and an embroidered cap, which was surmounted by
a little gold god and a sprig of evergreen for good luck. This kept its
place on his head, even in sleep. On his arms and ankles were hung many
amulets and charms, and on the whole he appeared a very resplendent
baby. To Ku Yum, he was simply gorgeous, and she longed to get her
little arms around him and carry him to some place where she could
delight in him all by herself.
Ku Yum’s mind had been in a state of wonder concerning the boy, Ko Ku,
ever since he had been born. Why was he so very small and so very noisy?
What made his fingers and toes so pink? Why did her mother always smile
and sing whenever she had the baby in her arms? Why did her father, when
he came in from his vegetable garden, gaze so long at Ko Ku? Why did
grandmother make so much fuss over him? And yet, why, oh why, did they
give him nothing nice to eat?
The baby was sleeping very soundly. His little mouth was half open and a
faint, droning sound was issuing therefrom. He had just completed his
first moon and was a month old. Poor baby! that never got any rice to
eat, nor nice sweet cakes. Ku Yum’s heart swelled with compassion. In
her hand was a delicious half-moon cake. It was the time of the
harvest-moon festival and Ku Yum had already eaten three. Surely, the
baby would like a taste. She hesitated. Would she dare, when it lay upon
that silken coverlet? Ku Yum had a wholesome regard for her mother’s
bamboo slipper.
The window blind was torn on one side. A vagrant wind lifted it,
revealing an open window. There was a way out of that window to the
vegetable garden. Beyond the vegetable garden was a cool, green spot
under a clump of trees; also a beautiful puddle of muddy water.
An inspiration came to Ku Yum, born of benevolence. She lifted the
sleeping babe in her arms, and with hushed, panting breaths, bore him
slowly and laboriously to where her soul longed to be. He opened his
eyes once and gave a faint, disturbed cry, but lapsed again into
dreamland.
Ku Yum laid him down on the grass, adjusted his cap, smoothed down his
garments, ran her small fingers over his brows, or where his brows ought
to have been, tenderly prodded his plump cheeks, and ruffled his
straight hair. Little sighs of delight escaped her lips. The past and
the future were as naught to her. She revelled only in the present.
For a few minutes thus: then a baby’s cries filled the air. Ku Yum sat
up. She remembered the cake. It had been left behind. She found a large
green leaf, and placing that over the baby’s mouth in the hope of
mellowing its tones, cautiously wended her way back between the squash
and cabbages.
All was quiet and still. It was just before sundown and it was very
warm. Her mother still slept her afternoon sleep. Hastily seizing the
confection, she returned to the babe, her face beaming with benevolence
and the desire to do good. She pushed some morsels into the child’s
mouth. It closed its eyes, wrinkled its nose and gurgled; but its mouth
did not seem to Ku Yum to work just as a proper mouth should under such
pleasant conditions.
“Behold me! Behold me!” she cried, and herself swallowed the remainder
of the cake in two mouthfuls. Ko Ku, however, did not seem to be greatly
edified by the example set him. The crumbs remained, half on his tongue
and half on the creases of his cheek. He still emitted explosive noises.
Ku Yum sadly surveyed him.
“He doesn’t know how to eat. That’s why they don’t give him anything,”
she said to herself, and having come to this logical conclusion, she set
herself to benefit him in other ways than the one in which she had
failed.
She found some worms and ants, which she arranged on leaves and stones,
meanwhile keeping up a running commentary on their charms.
“See! This very small brown one—how many legs it has, and how fast it
runs. This one is so green that I think its father and mother must have
been blades of grass, don’t you? And look at the wings on this worm.
That one has no wings, but its belly is pretty pink. Feel how nice and
slimy it is. Don’t you just love slimy things that creep on their
bellies, and things that fly in the air, and things with four legs? Oh,
all kinds of things except grown-up things with two legs.”
She inclined the baby’s head so that his eyes would be on a level with
her collection, but he screamed the louder for the change.
“Oh, hush thee, baby, hush thee,
And never, never fear
The bogies of the dark land,
When the green bamboo is near,”
she chanted in imitation of her mother. But the baby would not be
soothed.
She wrinkled her childish brow. Her little mind was perplexed. She had
tried her best to amuse her brother, but her efforts seemed in vain.
Her eyes fell on the pool of muddy water. They brightened. Of all things
in the world Ku Yum loved mud, real, good, clean mud. What bliss to dip
her feet into that tempting pool, to feel the slow brown water oozing
into her little shoes! Ku Yum had done that before and the memory
thrilled her. But with that memory came another—a memory of poignant
pain; the cause, a bamboo cane, which bamboo cane had been sent from
China by her father’s uncle, for the express purpose of helping Ku Yum
to walk in the straight and narrow path laid out for a proper little
Chinese girl living in Santa Barbara.
Still the baby cried. Ku Yum looked down on him and the cloud on her
brow lifted. Ko Ku should have the exquisite pleasure of dipping his
feet into that soft velvety water. There would be no bamboo cane for
him. He was loved too well. Ku Yum forgot herself. Her thoughts were
entirely for Ko Ku. She half dragged, half carried him to the pool. In a
second his feet were immersed therein and small wiggling things were
wandering up his tiny legs. He gave a little gasp and ceased crying. Ku
Yum smiled. Ah! Ko Ku was happy at last! Then:
Before Ku Yum’s vision flashed a large, cruel hand. Twice, thrice it
appeared, after which, for a space of time, Ku Yum could see nothing but
twinkling stars.
“My son! My son! the evil spirit in your sister had almost lost you to
me!” cried her mother.
“That this should happen on the day of the completion of the moon, when
the guests from San Francisco are arriving with the gold coins. Verily,
my son, your sister is possessed of a devil,” declared her father.
And her grandmother, speaking low, said: “’Tis fortunate the child is
alive. But be not too hard on Ku Yum. The demon of jealousy can best be
exorcised by kindness.”
And the sister of Ko Ku wailed low in the grass, for there were none to
understand.
NOTE.—The ceremony of the “Completion of the Moon” takes place when a
Chinese boy child attains to a month old. His head is then shaved for
the first time amidst much rejoicing. The foundation of the babe’s
future fortune is laid on that day, for every guest invited to the
shaving is supposed to present the baby with a gold piece, no matter
how small.