"I say, why don't we get that interpreter chap to take us all round the
place?"
"Don't know where he lives," said Barkins, "or it wouldn't be a bad
plan."
"I know," I cried.
"How do you know?"
"He showed me when he was on board, through the little glass he wanted
to sell you."
"Why, you couldn't see through that cheap thing, could you?"
"Yes, quite plain. It's just there, close to the warehouses, with a
signboard out."
"So it is," cried Smith, shading his eyes; and he read aloud from a red
board with gilt letters thereon--
Ching
Englis' spoken
Interpret
Fancee shop
Just then the boat glided up against the wood piles; we sprang out on to
the wharf, ordered the men back, and stood for two minutes watching them
well on their return for fear of any evasions, and then found ourselves
in the midst of a dense crowd of the lower-class Chinese, in their blue
cotton blouses and trousers, thick white-soled shoes, and every man with
his long black pigtail hanging down between his shoulders.
These men seemed to look upon us as a kind of exhibition, as they
pressed upon us in a semicircle; and I was beginning to think that we
should end by being thrust off into the water, when there was a burst of
angry shouting, a pair of arms began to swing about, and the owner of
the "fancee shop," whose acquaintance we had made on board, forced his
way to our side, turned his back upon us, and uttered, a few words which
had the effect of making the crowd shrink back a little.
Then turning to us, he began, in his highly-pitched inquiring tone--"You
wantee Ching? You wantee eat, dlink, smoke? Ching talkee muchee
Englis'. Come 'long! hip, hip, hoolay!"