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QJntncU HntoerHttg Slibrarg 
 
 CHARLES WILLIAM WASON 
 COLLECTION 
 
 CHINA AND THE CHINESE 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 CHARLES WILLfAM WASON 
 
 CLASS OF 1876 
 
 1918 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 3525.E73 
 
 The charmed life of Miss Austin. 
 
 3 1924 024 148 458 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924024148458 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF 
 
 MISS AUSTIN 
 
" I should like to feel that you have something of mine." 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF 
 MISS AUSTIN 
 
 BY 
 
 SAMUEL MERWIN 
 
 Author of "Anthony the Absolute," "Thk 
 Citadel," Etc. 
 
 FORTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 R. M. CROSBY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1914 
 
E73 
 
 Copyright, 191 4, by 
 The Century Co. 
 
 Copyright, 1912, 1913, by 
 McClure's Magazine 
 
 Published, September, 191 4 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I DINNER AT EIGHT 3 
 
 II THE PEKING PUG 36 
 
 III CHARLIE SNYDER 66 
 
 IV WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES loi 
 
 V BEHIND THE SCREEN 138 
 
 VI THE CAMEL OF HAN 179 
 
 VII WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 226 
 
 VIII CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 261 
 
 IX THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 305 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF 
 MISS AUSTIN 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF 
 MISS AUSTIN 
 
 I 
 
 DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 "TTTE can't leave the girl alone — in Shanghai," 
 VV protested the thin woman. 
 
 " But she '11 be right here in a hotel full of white 
 folks," insisted the stout man. As he spoke his eyes 
 wandered despairingly to the heap of luggage on which 
 a Chinese porter was pasting Astor House labels. 
 " Bob 's certain to get here before long." 
 
 All three — the fat man, the stout woman, and the 
 thin woman — stood for a moment in the silence of 
 perplexity. Outside, the early October twilight was 
 settling over the straggling polyglot city that likes to 
 term itself " the Paris of the East." Within, in the 
 roomy " lounge " that adjoined the hotel-office, there 
 were lights, and tourists sipping tea, and the chatter 
 of many tongues. Close at hand, seated alone by a 
 wicker table, idly fingering a cold teacup, was a girl — 
 an extremely pretty girl, obviously American, with a 
 jaunty traveling-turban set down on her fluffy brown 
 
 3 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 hair, with a firmly pointed chin, a straight and rather 
 long nose, clear skin that had been slightly tanned by 
 the winds of the Pacific, and wide, demure hazel eyes 
 that appeared to be gazing out at the clamorous line 
 of rickshaw coolies in the shadowy street. By not 
 so much as the twitch of a muscle did her fresh young 
 face betray that she was listening intently to the con- 
 versation of the trio. 
 
 " But, Rufus dear " — it was the stout woman — 
 " you don't seem to understand. It is nearly six now. 
 Unless Lieutenant Carver comes soon it will be too 
 late to get Edith back to the ship for dinner. Her 
 aunt and uncle will be worried to death." She paused 
 for emphasis. " We assumed some responsibility 
 when we brought her ashore to-day. And you don't 
 leave nice young girls like her unprotected on the 
 China Coast. You know well enough the dreadful 
 code of this part of the world." 
 
 The thin woman shuddered. " Between now and 
 eight anything might happen ! " 
 
 The fat man sighed. " Look here," he said, " this 
 is an emergency. And I can't see but what she 's got 
 to do her part in it. I must straighten out the tangle 
 with the Hankow Line people, or we simply can't leave 
 to-night. You two must collect the things you 've 
 bought before the shops close or lose 'em. I certainly 
 can't let either of you knock around Shanghai alone 
 after dark; and if you take her with you she'll miss 
 Bob when he comes. No, it will be best for her to 
 sit quietly here. Don't tell me that an American girl 
 
 4 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 who 's twenty if she 's a minute can't take care of her- 
 self in a pinch ! " 
 
 " You might explain it to the clerk, Rufus . . ." 
 
 The fat man glanced at the desk and pursed his lips. 
 Probably the one person on earth least able to compre- 
 hend the Occidental motive in such an explanation 
 would be a Malay hotel-clerk in Shanghai. 
 
 " No," he said decisively, "nothing like that! She 
 can read a magazine or something. And if Bob 
 should fall down altogether she could dine with us at 
 eight — or whenever we get back — and I '11 take her 
 back to the ship myself. There 's a launch out at nine- 
 thirty, and our Hankow boat does n't leave until mid- 
 night." 
 
 Miss Edith Austin, when the matter was put before 
 her, assured them that it did n't matter in the least. 
 She even produced a smile — a smile that faded before 
 they were out of the room. Then she went to the win- 
 dow and with wistful eyes watched them ride ofif into 
 the mystery-laden dusk of Shanghai. 
 
 A few moments later she became aware that a cer- 
 tain foreigner, who had for an hour been hovering 
 near, had come quietly to her side — a young man, 
 who wore good clothes over a compact, athletic figure ; 
 a man with bold attractive eyes, light waxed 
 moustaches, and on his alert young face the first in- 
 . describable marks of dissipation. She had thought 
 him German, but his accent and his odd use of idiom, 
 when he spoke, were more suggestive of Parisian back- 
 grounds. She wondered, with a slight quickening of 
 
 5 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 the pulse, whether he were one of the cosmopolitan 
 adventurers about whom center so many travelers' 
 tales of the Coast. 
 
 " Pardon, Mademoiselle," he said, in a soft voice, 
 " but perhaps, if you are waiting, you would read my 
 magazine." 
 
 " Thank you — no," she replied, facing him. It 
 was amusing to see him hesitate, even flush a little, 
 under her direct gaze. " He is n't used to American 
 girls," she thought. She knew nothing of the horri- 
 ble connotation that has grown, at Shanghai, about 
 that phrase, " American girl." 
 
 " Perhaps it is that I intrude," he managed to say. 
 
 " Yes," she replied calmly, " you do." 
 
 Well, that little episode was over. She was almost 
 sorry. The remark of the thin Miss Oldham came 
 suddenly into her thoughts : " Between now and eight 
 anything might happen!" If only something would 
 happen ! 
 
 Again she looked out into- the gathering night. The 
 rickshaw coolies were lighting their gaudy paper lan- 
 terns. She was glad to know that the Chinese really 
 use paper lanterns — in a world of continuous dis- 
 illusionment this bit of romantic color, at least, was 
 really so. 
 
 Somewhere off beyond the low buildings of the 
 other side of the street, somewhere beyond the slug-' 
 gish stream that bounds the American Quarter, lay, 
 she knew, a city that for color and drama and the 
 sheer quality of adventure surpasses the Bagdad of 
 
 6 
 
"Perhaps it is that I intrude," he managed to say. 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 ancient fable — a city where the white race meets the 
 yellow race and struggles with it for gold; where the 
 tourist or the business man rubs elbows with soldiers 
 of fortune, with broken noblemen from Europe, with 
 stranded soldiers and sailors. Mandarins, diplomats, 
 opium-smuggling Parsees, overdressed women of un- 
 certain livelihood. Fellow tourists talked largely of 
 Shanghai. The navy-men had a hundred tales of it. 
 But it appeared to be a city of which girls were shown 
 only a few uninteresting rows of shops, and that by 
 daylight. 
 
 For the thousandth time in her unruffled young life 
 she fell to resenting her sex. " They pass me around " 
 — she mused — " wrap me up and lay me aside, — as 
 if I were a cloisonne vase or a — a jade teapot." 
 
 A Chinese boy glided down the room and handed 
 her a chit that had been hastily addressed in pencil. 
 She tore it open and read — 
 
 Dear Edith: 
 
 Mighty sorry to fail you, but three hundred French 
 sailors are raising Cain in the French city. I was with 
 de St. Andre when the word reached him, and volun- 
 teered to pitch in and help him round up his men. At 
 the moment it looks rather messy. I guess you '11 have 
 to forgive me and sit down to dinner with the Oldhams. 
 I '11 surely be there in time to get you safely back to the 
 ship. I 'm sending another chit to your aunt and uncle 
 by the first launch so they won't be dragging the 
 Whangpo for you or, worse, hauling the Consul General 
 away from his dinner. Bob. 
 
 8 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 She turned the paper over two or three times, very 
 slowly; then reread it. Bob was like the others; she 
 must stay put until he could deliver her " safely " to 
 those other guardians on the ship. 
 
 Suddenly her chin came up — a touch of color 
 glowed through the transparent brown of her cheeks 
 — her eyes stared at the swinging red-and-yellow lan- 
 terns on the rickshaws. The Oldhams would not be 
 returning for an hour or so ; Bob would be even later ; 
 there was no one. . . . She held her breath. In her 
 eyes was the fire that passes only when youth passes. 
 
 Resuming her habitual girlish composure she 
 calmly buttoned her gloves, took her wrist-bag from 
 the table — on which (she noted with some amuse- 
 ment) the adventurer-person had left his now useless 
 magazine — walked through the office to the street, 
 stepped into the first rickshaw that ofifered, tucked the 
 robe about herself, and waved a vague hand. " The 
 Bund," she said. 
 
 And as it did not occur to her to look around, she 
 failed to observe that an athletic-appearing young 
 foreigner with waxed moustaches and bold, admiring 
 eyes followed in another rickshaw not twenty yards 
 behind. 
 
 The mile-long Bund was gay with the lights and the 
 traffic of early evening. On her right were the im- 
 posing brick and stone buildings that hide the huddled 
 city from the eyes of the incoming tourist. Banks, 
 insurance companies, newspaper and steamship offices, 
 
 9 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 clubs — they were solidly designed to convey to an 
 ancient and slumbrous civilization a sense of the brisk 
 but solid West. All about her, passing along the 
 broad, well-paved street were motor-cars, pony-vic- 
 torias, passenger-wheelbarrows and rickshaws. On 
 her left were the trees and the grass plots of the nar- 
 row park that borders the water front; and beyond 
 these the dim outlines of ocean tramps and junks and 
 opium hulks, the movement of sampans and launches 
 in and out among the shipping, and the broken, dancing 
 reflections of a myriad of colored lights in the water. 
 
 She settled back comfortably, with an outward com- 
 placency that belied the turbulence within. Her pulse 
 was beating high. " Just to the end of the Bund and 
 back," ran her thoughts, " just to the end of the 
 Bund." She looked down at the ragged shoulders 
 and the bare muscular arms and legs of her coolie; 
 he was running with an easy, springing stride. She 
 drew a long breath, and her hands closed tightly on 
 the bag that lay in her lap. 
 
 On and on they went. At a bumpy little stone 
 bridge the coolies pulled up and looked around inquir- 
 ingly. She waved him on. " Just a little farther," 
 she thought. The park ended here, and between the 
 pavement and the river stood a row of warehouses. 
 Beyond them she caught glimpses of a big river 
 steamer with lights shining from a hundred windows. 
 The coolie turned again; again she waved forward. 
 They were past the stone buildings now, past the ware- 
 houses. They had left behind them the absurdly 
 
 lO 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 European Bund; they were in another land. She 
 looked about with a little gasp of sheer delight. On 
 the right were low frame buildings, all lighted and 
 nearly all hung with signs in French and Chinese. 
 Crowds of Chinese were moving to and fro on the 
 sidewalks, many with hands slipped into capacious 
 sleeves, for the evening air was brisk. At the curb 
 were venders of queer things to eat, calling their wares 
 in a sing-song droning. Along the water-front, dimly 
 lighted by lanterns, were hundreds upon hundreds of 
 matting-roofed sampans, packed in so closely that one 
 could have walked far out on the river merely by 
 stepping from boat to boat. There were no motor- 
 cars here, and only a few rickshaws and carriages. 
 The air was filled with the chatter and laughter of the 
 most talkative race in the world. And it all smelled 
 — a strange blend of odors that is the smell of the 
 East. 
 
 This, surely, was China. This was the mysterious 
 land of a thousand enchantments. She felt rather 
 than saw that groups of the yellow men were staring 
 at her, and her nerve-tips tingled with the sheer ex- 
 citement of it. Of course, now that the experience 
 was becoming really interesting, it was time to turn 
 back; and she suppressed a sigh as she called to the 
 coolie. 
 
 A little way behind her, above the casual hubbub O'f 
 the street, sounded a new noise — a shouting, a scream 
 or two, loud laughter and snatches of song. She 
 called again to the coolie, and turned in sudden alarm. 
 
 II 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 A crowd of sailors had poured out from one of the 
 low buildings and taken possession of the street. A 
 brief glance was enough to assure even an extremely 
 inexperienced young American girl that they were 
 very drunk and in a distinctly riotous mood. At the 
 moment they were amusing themselves by upsetting 
 the carts and stands of the food-venders and pelting 
 one another and the bystanders with fruit and cakes. 
 One was singing in a frenzied manner and beating 
 time with a bottle. Three others had advanced close 
 to her rickshaw and for some reason of their own 
 were savagely thrashing a yellow man. 
 
 Edith felt herself becoming cold and faint. Look- 
 ing hurriedly about she saw that another rickshaw was 
 drawing near through the crowd. Its occupant was 
 a man who lifted his hat and bowed ceremoniously. 
 She peered eagerly at him through the uncertain light, 
 then her heart sank; it was the young foreigner who 
 had offered her the magazine. He was Smiling now in 
 a way that was perhaps meant to be reassuring but 
 that in fact was subtly alarming, and was bobbing his 
 head toward the brawling sailors as if in emphasis 
 of her need of him. 
 
 Somehow she must get back to the Bund. Her 
 frightened eyes sought an opening through the surg- 
 ing crowd that nearly filled the street. There was a 
 clear space close to the farther curb. She urged her 
 coolie toward it. He hesitated. 
 
 The young foreigner stepped down from his rick- 
 shaw and made his way to her side. " Pardon, Miss," 
 
 12 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 he said, " but not that way. If you will permit, I 
 will show you how to get around by another street." 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " But it is not safe. Mademoiselle. You must let 
 me stay with you. These men are mad with bad 
 whisky. If you have escort, it is something. But a 
 beautiful woman she must not be alone here at night. 
 They will not understand it, these men." 
 
 With white face and compressed lips she again shook 
 her head, and waved him aside. " Go there ! " she 
 called again to the coolie. 
 
 The bare-legged Oriental wavered, glanced about, 
 then wheeled and made an effort to obey her. But 
 the opening she had indicated was suddenly closed by 
 a tall sailor with a flushed face and a drunken light 
 in his eye. His white cotton cap was pushed far 
 back on his head, disclosing a scar that ran from his 
 right temple nearly up to the middle of his forehead. 
 He laughed insolently at her; then turned to- shout 
 at his companions, — and she saw that his ear was a 
 filled-out solid thing like a small pin-cushion on the 
 side of his head. His nose was crooked and flattened. 
 His lips were thick and shapeless above a heavy chin. 
 
 He was shouting in a foreign tongue — French, she 
 thought, though it was rougher and more guttural than 
 any French she had heard. He sang in a booming 
 voice snatches of a gay little song; and the others 
 laughed boisterously and looked at her. 
 
 The coolie had stopped again, and she was calling 
 to him to go on. Suddenly the big sailor with the 
 
 13 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 scar and the pin-cushion ears came swiftly forward, 
 gripped him by the shoulders, and swinging his feet 
 clear of the ground threw him sprawling into a group 
 of Chinese who were timidly gathering the contents of 
 a demolished cake-booth. Then the big sailor stepped 
 in between the shafts of the rickshaw and made a 
 speech in his booming voice, bowing extravagantly be- 
 fore her and gesturing with a primitive sort of grace. 
 The others closed in about them, cheering and wav- 
 ing their caps and the bits of loot they had picked up. 
 One grimacing little man brandished a cloisonne 
 opium pipe so close that she had to draw her head 
 back. 
 
 The big sailor wound up his speech in what was 
 evidently a wild peroration. It sent the jostling, 
 drunken group into an ecstasy. They doubled over 
 with laughter; they embraced one another; they 
 shouted with delight. Then the leader bent forward, 
 threw aside the rickshaw robe, seized one small foot, 
 held it up in his twisted, knotted fingers, and kissed 
 the toe of her shoe. 
 
 She tried to draw it away. He raised his head, 
 fixed his bloodshot eyes on hers with a gaze that was 
 horribly hypnotic, and, grinning, let her struggle. 
 She could not so much as move his hand. He bowed, 
 with mock courtesy, and slowly relaxed his grip. 
 Shuddering, she wrapped the robe about herself and 
 sank back in her seat, limp, white of face, her tor- 
 tured eyes looking about, this way and that, over the 
 white caps of the sailors. She wanted to scream, but 
 
 14 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 could not have uttered a sound. Some Chinamen on 
 the sidewalk were laughing. Was it true, then, that 
 a girl must not appear alone in Shanghai . . . the 
 dreadful code of this part of the world . . . anything 
 might happen . . . 
 
 A young man with athletic shoulders and waxed 
 moustaches was elbowing through the crowd. He 
 reached a wheel of the rickshaw, gripped it with one 
 hand, and with an astonishingly quick and powerful 
 thrust and swing of the other arm swept the crowd- 
 ing sailors back. Then he came leaping over the step 
 of the vehicle in a rush so sudden and so determined 
 that the big sailor simply gave way before it. There 
 was the sound of quick, clean blows driven straight to 
 their mark; and the sailor fell backward over the 
 shafts. The Parisian was after him and on him like 
 a bulldog. 
 
 " Quick, Miss," he was shouting, without for an in- 
 stant turning his head. " Your coolie — try to get 
 away ! " 
 
 She looked helplessly about. The coolie had disap- 
 peared. All around the rickshaw the sailors were 
 pressing, struggling to get at the fighters. Certainly 
 it was better to stay where she was than to step down 
 into that little riot. Here was a situation, indeed, 
 with which she could not pretend to cope. It had passed 
 far beyond her experience and capacity, and was now 
 developing much more rapidly than she could think. 
 She felt a perverse impulse to laugh. Surely it was 
 not so, this extraordinary bit of melodrama. Such 
 
 15 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 things do not happen. She passed her hand slowly 
 across her eyes. 
 
 In some way the fight was stopped, and there was 
 an argument in which everybody appeared to be talking 
 at the top of his lungs. The Parisian was gesturing 
 vehemently; the sailors were jeering at him and wav- 
 ing their loot in his face. All was confusion. It 
 made her head ache. 
 
 The Parisian appeared close at her side, talking 
 rapidly in English. She caught a phrase here and 
 there, looking the while at a bruise under his eye 
 from which a little blood was trickling slowly down 
 upon his cheek. 
 
 ". . . If you had been with me . . . they know you 
 were alone . . . the big man says it is that you will 
 dine with him . . . spend all his pay ... I cannot 
 make them understand — it is no use while they are 
 drunk ... it is as I have said to you — no good 
 woman is alone at night here in Frenchtown — they 
 think it is I who seek you for myself ... it is that we 
 fight, the large sailor and I. If I win it will be per- 
 mitted that I take you — that you dine with me . . ." 
 
 Then his face expanded in an almost boyish smile. 
 " It is not, I think, so serious," he added gently. 
 " But it is that I simply cannot take you away now. 
 They will not understand. They will not permit. It 
 will not be so bad. You will see that they, though 
 so drunk, are what you of America call the good 
 sport." 
 
 The sailors who had been arguing and gesticulating, 
 i6 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 now set up a wild shout, apparently of agreement. 
 Edith placed her hands over her ears for a moment. 
 
 " But," she tried to say, when it was quieter, " I 
 can't — you mustn't — " 
 
 The Parisian smiled again. 
 
 " It will not be so much," he said. " We can do 
 nothing. We will humor them." 
 
 With that same queer sense of unreality, she sat 
 passively while a dozen hands seized the rickshaw and 
 ran with it a little way along the street. Her Parisian 
 handed her out; she could feel him close at her side, 
 gripping her arm and fending off the crowding sailors 
 as they crossed the sidewalk and entered one of the 
 low buildings. She was hurried down a long passage 
 and into a large, low-ceiled room, a dimly lighted 
 room that was hazy with smoke and close with an odd 
 choking odor. 
 
 " Wait " — she found herself saying, with a sense 
 of grotesque inadequacy to the occasion — " I can't 
 breathe! Won't they open a window?" 
 
 Along the walls of the room and grouped about 
 the pillars in the center were couches. On many of 
 these lay men, Chinese and white, sunk in slumber, or 
 propped on an elbow puttering over little lamps with 
 steel instruments like knitting-needles. She saw one 
 man raise what she knew to be an opium pipe and with 
 the knitting-needle work up a soft brown pellet on the 
 flat surface of his pipe-bowl. 
 
 The sailors were routing the smokers from the 
 central couches and clearing the floor. From some- 
 
 17 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 where appeared ropes that were run rapidly around 
 the four central pillars and made fast, forming a 
 roped-in square. Into this arena was tossed a cluster 
 of thin brown boxing-gloves. 
 
 The Parisian was speaking into her ear — 
 " It is a famous place for the fights of sailors, Miss. 
 Each ship, you will know, has its champions. It will 
 not, perhaps, be easy for me, but I will win. Indeed 
 I must. This man is a heavyweight; and he is a 
 fighter of experience — he has the bearing, and the 
 — what do you say ? — the cauliflower ear. I am but 
 a middleweight. I must give him twenty, thirty, 
 pounds; but he is drunk; that is it, he is drunk. I 
 am not in condition. It is so, here at Shanghai. One 
 is not careful. But " — his quick, eager talk was be- 
 ginning to reach her consciousness and find a response 
 there — " but, Miss, though but an amateur I am, I 
 may say, truly expert at the box. I think — " his eye 
 roved across the ring and slowly measured his ad- 
 versary, and a touch of vanity came into his voice 
 and manner — " I think it will not be difficult. He is 
 so drunk. And I — I have, as one says, stayed six 
 rounds with the great Carpentier — at Paris." 
 
 She looked, with a curiosity that was struggling 
 out through her dazed mind, about the ring. Within 
 the ropes all was clear. But pressing against them 
 stood a crowd of jostling, shouting, laughing white 
 and yellow men. They were betting, evidently, and 
 were arguing hotly over the odds. As she looked 
 about, a man here and there caught her eye and sud- 
 
 i8 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 denly became quiet. Others gazed at her with frank 
 interest. A surprising fact was the unmistakable and 
 growing sense of order displayed by the more sober 
 of the sailors and the five or six Americans and Eng- 
 lishmen who appeared to be tacitly in charge of the 
 arrangements. They were all men so rough as to be 
 wholly out of the world as she knew it — opium- 
 smokers apparently, drunkards certainly ; yet all seemed 
 to take pride in arranging the fight according to cer- 
 tain set rules of procedure. Lacquered stools were 
 brought and placed in two opposite corners. Pails of 
 water appeared, and bottles, and towels. 
 
 She glanced over toward the big sailor, then dropped 
 her eyes and for a moment held her breath; for his 
 seconds were in the act of removing the last article 
 of clothing from the upper half of his body. Then, 
 despite fluttering lids, she looked again. 
 
 At that moment the sailor ducked through the ropes 
 and seated himself on the stool, and she knew that 
 his body was beautiful. Beneath the battered face and 
 head, beneath those painfully fascinating " cauli- 
 flower " ears, was a pair of broad shoulders with 
 great ropes of muscle curving down over them. The 
 breasts were hard and prominent, standing out like a 
 cornice over the solid muscle-ridged trunk beneath. 
 Even as he sat quietly on his stool, his outspread arms 
 resting easily on the ropes, there was. a constant play 
 of delicately responsive knots of muscle beneath the 
 surface of his smooth skin. The entire body cavity 
 seemed to expand and contract rhythmically with his 
 
 19 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 heavy breathing. His trousers were drawn in tight 
 about the waist and secured with a bit of light rope. 
 He had kicked off his shoes, and his stockinged feet 
 were feehng the floor as if searching for the powdered 
 resin that was not there. 
 
 " Pardon, Miss, but it is to be a fight. I must do 
 the same." 
 
 She turned. The Parisian had thrown aside coat 
 and waistcoat, and was jerking at his necktie. His 
 negHge shirt followed. Then he worked his singlet 
 up about his head and struggled with it for a moment. 
 She caught hold of it with both hands and pulled it 
 over his head. 
 
 " Thank you," said he simply. 
 
 He unlaced his shoes and handed them to an un- 
 kempt young cockney — a beachcomber, doubtless — 
 who at once, with sudden and immense self-importance 
 assumed a guardianship over the little heap of dis- 
 carded clothing. 
 
 " You might 'old 'is watch. Miss," said this person. 
 And Edith took the watch and fob and placed them, 
 for safety, in her wrist-bag. 
 
 Another unprepossessing young man now spoke to 
 the Parisian. He was many days from the barber, 
 and his hands appeared to be none too steady, but 
 there was assurance in his eye. 
 
 "I'll look after you, mister," he said. "You'll 
 be all right with me. Worked three years at Brown's 
 Gym. in New York — Twenty-third Street, you know, 
 
 20 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 just off Sixth Avenue. And they use me around here 
 some." 
 
 With a thrill of sheer excitement Edith stole a 
 glance at her champion — and then another. He was 
 distinctly smaller than the big sailor who was sitting 
 so calmly and confidently in the opposite comer. 
 From neck to waist his skin was fairly pink and 
 white. He was not, like the sailor, ribbed and ridged 
 with muscle ; but there was wiry strength in his arms 
 and solidity in the smooth shoulders and the firm 
 back. 
 
 " I will be cautious," he was saying, in an eager low 
 voice, to the New Yorker. " I must, as you say, feel 
 him out. It will be, I think, the strength against the 
 cleverness." 
 
 The second, like the guardian of the clothing, 
 showed signs of self-importance. He looked his prin- 
 cipal over critically, worked his arms, kneaded his 
 shoulders and chest, and struck him lightly here and 
 there about the body. " I guess you 're quick enough," 
 he said. 
 
 " It is that with me," replied the Parisian ; " it is 
 quickness." And again he proudly uttered the sen- 
 tence that seemed, as he spoke it, to have an almost 
 mystical import. " Though but an amateur, I have, 
 you see, stayed six rounds with the great Carpentier 
 at Paris." 
 
 Edith was impressed by the expression of frank 
 admiration that suddenly illuminated the unshaven 
 
 21 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 face of the man who had worked three years at 
 Brown's. 
 
 " You don't say ! " was the reply. " Then you 're 
 sure some fighter." 
 
 The seconds met in the center of the ring and 
 gravely discussed the problem of a referee. From 
 among those who volunteered or who were put for- 
 ward by friends among the spectators a big English- 
 man was selected as being, on the whole, the least 
 drunk and the most impressive in appearance. He in 
 his turn called the two principals to him, and again 
 Edith was struck by the astonishing sense of order that 
 ruled this wild proceeding. Evidently in the minds of 
 these rough men there was a common acceptance of the 
 traditional rules of the sport. Most surprising of 
 all, the big French sailor quietly accepted his op- 
 ponent's courteous translation of the referee's in- 
 structions. " Women," reflected Edith, " would n't do 
 it like that." She began to feel almost safe. A mo- 
 ment more and she forgot herself in the sheer des- 
 perate thrill of the fight. 
 
 The referee stood, coat ofif, watch in hand, one arm 
 raised. The two fighters were seated in their corners. 
 Edith stood by the post, directly behind her champion, 
 quite unconscious of the fact that the crowd had re- 
 spectfully withdrawn a little way from her on either 
 side. 
 
 " Keep him ofif," the man from Brown's was say- 
 ing, in staccato whispers — " make him lead. Don't 
 
 2,2 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 let him get in on you. He '11 clinch if he can. Don't 
 let him lay that beef on you." 
 
 " Ready, gentlemen ! " called the referee. The con- 
 fusion of voices died out. The referee dropped his 
 arm, stiffly. " Time ! " he shouted. 
 
 The two half-naked men leaped forward; sparred a 
 moment; then crouched and circled, their feet padding 
 softly on the wooden floor, their brown gloves moving 
 swiftly in feints and in sudden shiftings of defence. 
 Their faces were keen and hard, and they watched 
 each other with the alertness of tigers. Round and 
 round they circled. The sailor's face slowly expanded 
 in a crafty, drunken smile, and he looked down on his 
 slighter opponent with an expression of humorous 
 contempt. One of the spectators shouted something 
 in French. The sailor's intent gaze relaxed for the 
 fraction of a second, and he turned his head. In- 
 stantly the Parisian flew at him, just as he had before 
 flown at him over the step of the rickshaw, and his left 
 glove landed on the sailor's face in three quick blows, 
 like the tap — tap — tap of a hammer. The 
 heavyweight spat out an angry exclamation and 
 launched a right swing. But his great arm thrashed 
 the air; the middleweight, on the instant, bent nearly 
 double — so nearly double that his forehead all but 
 brushed the floor — then caught the sailor about the 
 waist and gripped him, cHnging close. The alert 
 referee stepped between them and forced them apart. 
 
 Each was breathing hard as they fell again to cir- 
 23 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 cling. A thin trickle of blood appeared below the 
 sailor's nostrils; and the spectators broke into a sud- 
 den roar of delight. 
 
 " Some class there ! " the man from Brown's was 
 muttering at Edith's elbow. " He's got something, 
 that boy. Clever. Ducks like Leaches Cross." 
 Then he raised his voice and called — " Watch his 
 right, Frenchy ! The guy 's got a wallop." 
 
 The Parisian nodded, but kept his eyes fixed on the 
 sailor as he circled lightly and stealthily about him. 
 
 There was a confusion of shouts and catcalls from 
 the crowd about the ropes. The sailor shook his head 
 as if to throw off some blinding harness. 
 
 " It 's the liquor that 's bothering him," muttered 
 the New Yorker. " But say, he 's got an awful right." 
 
 The sailor tossed his head again, then rushed. The 
 middleweight sidestepped, and hooked in a glancing 
 blow that, accelerating the momentum of the big man, 
 sent him slipping and sprawling to the floor. The 
 building rocked with the shout that went up; but the 
 sailor bounded to his feet and rushed again. Edith, 
 swept clean out of herself, face flushed, eyes shining, 
 hands gripping the rope, followed every motion with 
 fascinated eyes. This second rush carried the fighters 
 directly into their corner, and Edith and the New 
 Yorker had to step back. 
 
 The middleweight could not sidestep this time; the 
 big man bore him back until he crashed into the post. 
 Edith felt the nearness of the two sweaty, glistening 
 bodies; their hoarse, quick breathing was loud in her 
 
 24 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 ears; the reeking air choked her nostrils; she was 
 faint ; but still her fascinated eyes followed every mo- 
 tion. The middleweight's back, as he fought des- 
 perately on the defensive, was almost under her eyes. 
 By reaching out a hand she could have touched him. 
 She could see the flash and play of the wiry muscles 
 under his shining pink skin; she could see his elbows 
 and forearms working like pistons as he played on the 
 ribs and stomach of the great body before him; she 
 could see the'look of sudden anguish on the shapeless 
 face of the sailor that seemed to be staring at her over 
 the pink shoulder and could hear the involuntary grunts 
 and gasps of the two men as they worked in closer 
 and closer. Then suddenly they were too close. The 
 sailor's arms slid over the shoulders of the Parisian, 
 and all his weight was thrown on the slighter frame 
 in the clinch that followed. The referee pulled them 
 apart. 
 
 " Say," observed the man from Brown's, half to 
 Edith, half to himself — " that 's infighting now — a 
 bit of the real stuff. We don't see much of that out 
 here." 
 
 The fighters were crouching and sparring cautiously 
 when the referee stepped between them and called 
 time. The middleweight dropped his hands and 
 walked quietly to his corner. The heavyweight stag- 
 gered uncertainly to his. And all about the ringside 
 there was shouting, and disjointed talk, and the brand- 
 ishing of gold coins. 
 
 The middleweight dropped on the stool, leaned back 
 25 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 on the ropes and closed his eyes. The New Yorker 
 went swiftly and deftly to work on him, fanning him 
 with the towel, sponging his head and face, kneading 
 the muscles of neck, shoulders, arms, and thighs. 
 
 " Quick, Miss," he said, looking up from his work, 
 " give him that water bottle. And just keep the towel 
 going, will you ? " 
 
 Edith obeyed. Leaning over the ropes she waved 
 the towel, with arms that had been trained on the 
 tennis-courts and the golf-course of her home city. 
 
 " Harder, please," cried the second. 
 
 She worked with added energy. The fighter looked 
 up in protest, but seeing the intent expression on her 
 face, smiled gently. 
 
 The New Yorker was talking jerkily. " He 's soft, 
 Bo, but watch that swing. If he lands it, good-night! 
 Better use your feet this round — keep away — he may 
 work off his souse and come to life. And save your 
 hands — you '11 need 'em." 
 
 The referee called the round. Again the slender 
 man faced the giant. Again they circled, feinted, 
 rushed, dodged, fought. 
 
 The third round passed ; and the fourth. It was not 
 to be so easy. The sailor, his fuddled spirit settling 
 into a dull anger against this alert little man who 
 jabbed him and evaded him with such persistency, 
 landed a number of heavy blows. The movements of 
 both became slower. Their faces were less alert, more 
 dogged. And now, between rounds, Edith worked 
 with a sureness only a little behind that of the New 
 
 26 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 Yorker. Her hat was on a nail, her gloves in a ball 
 on the floor. She sponged the battered face and 
 swung the dingy towel, while the man from Brown's 
 tried to stir the sluggish circulation. It was sober, 
 primitive work. It began to look like desperate work. 
 She forgot the excited spectators, she forgot the 
 bizarre nature of the situation ; she was conscious only 
 of her responsibility — the woman's responsibility to 
 succor the man who battles for her — and of the need 
 to learn from the unshaven, rough-spoken but exceed- 
 ingly efficient young man — who, stripped to under- 
 shirt and trousers, was working close beside her — 
 precisely how to be of the greatest service. 
 
 The fifth round went badly for the Parisian. When 
 it was over, and he had sunk weakly on the lacquered 
 stool, Edith felt rather than saw the New Yorker shake 
 his head and look grave. 
 
 " Work hard," he said between his teeth as he 
 roughly massaged the relaxed muscles. " Slap his 
 face. Use lots of water." 
 
 She followed instructions. Then, with an impulse 
 and a sudden flash of memory, she got her wrist-bag, 
 rummaged in it, drew out a bottle of smelling salts, 
 and pressed it against the fighter's nostrils. He 
 breathed it in, then jerked his head away and opened 
 his eyes. But she caught his head, and again pressed 
 the bottle to his nostrils. 
 
 "Good business!" It was the New Yorker, look- 
 ing up from his work with just such an expression of 
 admiration as the Parisian had wrung from him before 
 
 27 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 the fight. " That 's the very thing. You 're all right, 
 Miss. You sure are — all — right ! " 
 
 And Edith watched her man step out for the sixth 
 round, a shade more alert for that sharp tang in his 
 
 She drew out a bottle of smelling salts, and pressed it against 
 the fighter's nostrils. 
 
 nostrils, with a curious little glow in her heart. For 
 all in a moment she knew that it meant something to 
 win that honest commendation. Many men had flat- 
 tered her ; but never before in her sheltered young life 
 
 28 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 had a man spoken to her quite Uke that . . . directly, 
 as an equal. 
 
 " God help him," the New Yorker was muttering. 
 " It 's up to Him now — Him and Frenchy. They 're 
 both in. One way or the other, a chance blow '11 do 
 it." 
 
 The sailor was clumsy and uncertain in his move- 
 ments. His eyes were dull. He rushed at the middle- 
 weight and bore him down on the ropes, but drew a 
 shower of body blows for his trouble. In some pain 
 and bewilderment he fell back ; and then, when the lit- 
 tle man rushed, swung his right with all the weight of 
 his great frame thrown in behind it. There was a 
 thud as it landed, a tenth of a second of silence, then 
 a roar from the spectators so wild, so utterly, unmis- 
 takably savage, that Edith turned faint and closed her 
 eyes. When after an instant they opened again, it 
 was only with a conscious effort of will that she could 
 control her faculties sufficiently to comprehend what 
 was taking place. 
 
 The middleweight had staggered back against the 
 ropes and was supporting himself by holding on with 
 one hand. The other hand hung limp at his side. 
 His body swayed. His legs bent and wobbled as if 
 about to give way under him. His chin sagged, his 
 mouth hung partly open, his eyes wandered. He pre- 
 sented a picture of utter collapse. 
 
 Facing him, and only a little way off, the heavy- 
 weight was floundering about, too weak and confused 
 to see and grasp his opportunity. The building 
 
 29 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 rocked with the screams of the spectators urging him 
 on to the knockout. 
 
 The man from Brown's for a moment stared intently 
 at his principal; picked up the towel and rolled it into 
 a ball, as if to toss it into the ring; then hesitated, and 
 again studied the situation. 
 
 " I 'd swear that blow never landed," he was say- 
 ing aloud. " Looked to me like he caught it on the 
 arm. Is the boy stalling? " 
 
 Slowly the big sailor grasped the import of the 
 frantic urgings of his seconds and the confused yell- 
 ing of the crowd. He gathered himself, shook the 
 sweat out of his eyes, and plunged heavily forward — 
 all open, his arms swinging wildly about his head. 
 
 Instantly the middleweight stiflfened up, thrust one 
 foot out, threw his left forearm across his chin, and 
 brought up his right in a lightning uppercut that landed 
 squarely on the point of the sailor's jaw. It was a 
 perfect manoeuver and a perfect blow. The sailor 
 spun around, slipped quietly to the floor, rolled 
 over on his back, stiffened out, and lay unconscious 
 while the referee slowly swung his arm up and down 
 ten times. 
 
 The referee pocketed his watch, slapped the middle- 
 weight on the shoulder, and turning toward the sailor's 
 corner, cried : " G^t your man. He 's out ! " 
 
 The middleweight, with a faint smile hovering on 
 his bruised face, walked wearily to his corner, sank 
 on the stool, and fell back into the arms of his second. 
 And Edith, leaning weakly against the pillar during 
 
 30 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 the brief moment before she roused herself to hunt 
 about for her hat and her gloves, looked down at the 
 two strange faces with a puzzled expression. She 
 had intruded into the world of these rough men. She 
 had been under fire with them. And in the intensity 
 of the moment they had accepted her, not as a beauti- 
 ful girl but as a human being. The experience was too 
 close and too startling to be comprehended all at once ; 
 but even at the moment she knew that new, queer, 
 hitherto suppressed notions and speculations were at 
 large in her mind. Until within the hour she would 
 have looked down upon and a little feared these 
 men. But now she respected them, almost — she held 
 her breath — admired them. She wondered if it 
 would ever again be possible for her to accept the 
 cloisonne-vase, the jade-teapot theory of woman- 
 hood. 
 
 But the situation was too much for her. Her head 
 reeled with the confusion and the excitement of it. 
 Life, that had always been, after all, rather a simple 
 affair, had suddenly become outrageously complex. 
 She turned away and steadied herself against the pil- 
 lar. Through the continuous chattering and shouting 
 of the crowd came to her ears the sound of handclap- 
 ping ; and she vaguely knew that they were applauding 
 her, but did not raise her eyes. After a moment she 
 put on her hat and looked about for a hat-pin that had 
 dropped to the floor. One of the French sailors 
 sprang forward, found it, and with a bow of grave 
 deference handed it to her. She thanked him. Then 
 
 31 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 it seemed to her that more than anything else in the 
 world she longed for a breath of fresh air. She 
 leaned against the pillar . . . 
 
 They walked slowly northward past the warehouses 
 and along the Bund. 
 
 " You are tired," he said. " Perhaps — now that 
 it is like this — you would dine with me." 
 
 She moved along in silence for a little way. Then, 
 " No," she replied, with a flutter of uncertainty. " I 
 think I ought not to do that. Though I feel that you 
 have earned the right to ask almost anything of me." 
 
 " It is not that," he protested. 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " But perhaps I may walk with you — to the 
 hotel?" 
 
 She felt for her watch, and laughed a little. " It 
 seems as if it must be nearly midnight — " 
 
 " It is but seven. A few minutes — half an hour 
 — that is all." 
 
 They walked on in an intimate silence that seemed 
 not at all odd. 
 
 " It 's no use trying to thank you," she said, after a 
 time. " I was foolish ; but you — you were wonder- 
 ful." 
 
 He waved the compliment aside. " I am ashamed. 
 I was not good. Oh, Mademoiselle, I wish you had 
 seen me at the time I fought the great Carpentier." 
 
 " You are French ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, but I have lived much at Paris. My home was 
 32 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 at Stockholm. And my father was German. I 
 should like to give you my card." 
 
 He took one from a silver case, and carefully bent 
 down a corner. By the light of a street lamp she 
 read — " Heinrich von Hagen, Stockholm." And in 
 a lower corner were the words — " Royal Yacht Club." 
 
 He gazed moodily out over the river, then turned. 
 
 " I can be only frank with you, Mademoiselle. 
 They would call me an adventurer. You will know 
 that men like myself do not come out here to China for 
 no reason — not too often. I was for years in my 
 uncle's Paris office. I forged his name. I came here. 
 It was too much of the box, the biUiards, the cards." 
 
 " I am sorry," she said. 
 
 They agreed to part on the corner near the Astor 
 House. She lingered for a little while, and he stood 
 stiffly like a soldier. There was a discolored bruise 
 under his right eye; the left eye was nearly closed; 
 his mouth was swollen and it twisted queerly when he 
 smiled. 
 
 " I have heard tales," he said, with a touch of sad- 
 ness that was not wholly without bitterness, " of the 
 splendid young ladies in America. It is quite true. 
 You have the self-sufficiency. You walk through life 
 untouched." 
 
 She looked thoughtfully at him for a moment, then 
 unclasped her necklace of delicately worked Chinese 
 silver. 
 
 " I should like," she murmured, " to feel that you 
 have something of mine." 
 
 33 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 He accepted the gift, and raised his hat. And she 
 walked slowly away toward the lights of the Astor 
 House. 
 
 Once she turned. He was standing stiffly there, still 
 holding his hat above his head. 
 
 Neither the Oldhams nor Lieutenant Carver had ar- 
 rived ; and she waited alone in the lounge adjoining the 
 office. On a nearby table lay a magazine. It brought 
 a curious memory of something that had happened a 
 long time before. She would read it now. 
 
 It was after eight by the office clock when the Lieu- 
 tenant appeared. She saw him enter and pause at the 
 desk, and with new eyes watched him cross the room 
 toward her. Bob was goodlooking. He was a man 
 of vigorous physique, of good mind, of some social 
 attainment. He met every conventional requirement. 
 But she felt, as she observed him, that he was of 
 those who shut their womenkind away from the very 
 arena of actual life in which their own character and 
 destiny is wrought. 
 
 " Hello ! " he cried. " Alone? Where are the Old- 
 hams?" 
 
 " They are n't back yet," said she. Then, " I 'm 
 starved. Bob. Let 's have some dinner." 
 
 The Lieutenant hesitated. " Really, Edith," he 
 said, " it would be better to wait. Just on your ac- 
 count. You and I don't mind. But there are people 
 here — ship acquaintances, all that — who would n't 
 understand. At home the chaperone is a rather ab- 
 
 34 
 
DINNER AT EIGHT 
 
 surd nuisance; here a necessity. No use quarreling 
 with the fact. It 's so. Remember — it is Shanghai." 
 " Yes," she replied drily, with a face that was in- 
 scrutable — " That is so. It is Shanghai." 
 
II 
 
 THE PEKING PUG 
 
 AND, oh, Edith ! While you 're in Peking won't 
 you get me one of those dariing Peking Pugs — 
 a blue and white one? You can give it to me 
 when we meet at Yokohama. Probably I could buy one 
 in New York, but it would never be the same. I want 
 to know that mine actually came from the wonderful old 
 city — and direct to me! You just can't imagine how 
 I envy you that part of your tour. I think it was per- 
 fectly dear of your Uncle and Aunt to take you there! 
 But are n't you just a teeny bit afraid, with everybody 
 saying the revolution may break out yet — any second!"' 
 
 Mrs. Wilberly, who was on the couch with one 
 of her nervous headaches, dropped the letter to her 
 lap, saying : " What on earth does Harriet mean by 
 a Peking Pug, Edith?" 
 
 Miss Austin turned toward her aunt a girlish face 
 that exhibited no trace of whatever adventurous de- 
 sires may have been stirring behind it. The hazel 
 eyes were wide and demure. Though she had been 
 lounging in her room all this rather tiresome after- 
 noon, her fluffy brown hair was in place to the last 
 strand, her shirtwaist was immaculate, her perfect-fit- 
 
 36 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 ting cloth skirt was as trim as if it had just been ironed 
 to her figure. 
 
 " Oh, you know," she repHed, rather absently ■ — 
 " tiny sleeve-dog, with long hair and cunning little 
 eyes." 
 
 "But who ever heard of a blue and white dog? 
 China ware, porcelain — yes. But a dog!" 
 
 " There are queerer things than that in China," re- 
 plied Miss Austin sagely, opening the door to the ad- 
 joining room, then lingering a moment to ask: 
 " Uncle Frank has n't sent any word, has he ? " 
 
 " No, he 's still out with those English engineers. 
 He says there will be a fortune here in coal and iron 
 after the revolution." 
 
 An expression that might have meant great inner im- 
 patience flitted across Miss Austin's face. But she com- 
 posed herself instantly, and gazed with meditative eyes 
 toward the window. " I was just thinking," she 
 mused, " that it might not be too late yet to go out 
 somewhere and buy the dog." She lingered a mo- 
 ment longer, then suddenly turned and entered her own 
 room. 
 
 " Be careful about going out alone ! " called her 
 aunt, in a voice that rose nervously. 
 
 But the door had closed. 
 
 Mrs. Wilberly sank back among the cushions and 
 sighed. She wished Frank would give a little of his 
 time to this lively and puzzling young person. It was 
 simply wearing her out. " Girls," she reflected, " are 
 becoming utterly unmanageable — what with all the 
 
 37 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 ideas of emancipation and independence they pick up 
 nowadays." That this very hotel, here in the Lega- 
 tion Quarter of Peking, sheltered at the moment a 
 horridly fascinating assemblage of adventurers and 
 adventuresses from every corner of the earth appeared 
 rather to please Edith than otherwise ; that until the lull 
 of the past few weeks foreign troops had been arriving 
 by every train and panicky Manchus and Chinese resi- 
 dents had been heaping into carts their gold and silver, 
 their bronzes, ivories, porcelains, cloisonnes^ silks, 
 jades, and carvings, and streaming frantically out 
 through every gate of the Tartar City, seemed merely 
 to stir the girl to a romantic impatience for the event. 
 Mrs. Wilberly pressed her hands to her throbbing 
 temples ; and reflected on the burden he bears who as- 
 sumes responsibility for another life. 
 
 Miss Austin came slowly down the broad stairway 
 into the main hall of the hotel, pausing on the lowest 
 step for a glance at the gay, exotic scene before her. 
 She made a pleasing picture in her jaunty turban and 
 well tailored costurhe. 
 
 The walls of the passage blazed with the Mandarin 
 coats, skirts, and squares of embroidery that privileged 
 venders were offering for sale. Moving about, chat- 
 ting quietly, sipping tea or whisky and soda with 
 richly-gowned women, were officers in the uniforms 
 of many nations, nearly all with the blurred eyes of 
 the hard drinker, yet all vigorous of body. Dignified, 
 cynical gentlemen from various legations were in evi- 
 
 38 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 dence here and there. Almost at her elbow, two 
 Russians, a Norwegian and a Chinese Mandarin were 
 talking together in French. " Shanghai is n't the 
 Paris of the East," she thought. " This is. A little 
 pasteboard Paris." In a near corner sat a group of 
 weary tourists in wrinkled clothing who were asking 
 one another — snatches of their conversation floated 
 to Edith's ears — whether, in the event of actual revo- 
 lution, this fortified Legation Quarter would really 
 be safer than the seaport of Tientsin. 
 
 Her breath came more quickly, and a barely percep- 
 tible heightening of color intensified the beauty of her 
 girlishly immobile face. She was aware, moving 
 slowly through the queerly mixed little gathering, that 
 she ought to resent the really alarming glances of 
 these fascinating officers; but no resentment could 
 stand against the rising sense of sheer adventurous de- 
 light that had set her nerves tingling. She had to pick 
 her way around the wizened old native conjuror who 
 was sitting on his heels in the midst of his glass bowls 
 and lacquered flower-pots and mysterious lumpy ob- 
 jects under colored cloths. And as she stepped out 
 on the porch there was a faint, happy smile dancing 
 in her eyes and hovering about her mouth — a smile 
 that died suddenly when she found herself face to face 
 with Captain Waters arid the girl-gambler. 
 
 She had met the Captain a number of times since he 
 had proved useful to her uncle in arranging one or two 
 rather important introductions. He was a man of 
 nearly middle age, with a close-cropped moustache, a 
 
 39 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 flushed face with minute but observable purple veins 
 over the cheek bones and on the nose, watery blue eyes 
 with a network of criss-cross lines under each, and 
 magnificent shoulders. Edith had lately made a point 
 of avoiding him. 
 
 The girl-gambler, on the other hand, was easily the 
 most interesting person in the 
 hotel. Apparently she lived 
 there alone. In the dining- 
 room she had a table to her- 
 self. Except in the evenings 
 she invariably wore a simple 
 blue middy blouse and a short 
 blue skirt; and her black hair 
 hung loose on her collar, 
 gathered in a bow at the neck. 
 " She makes up for sixteen," 
 thought Edith, " looks twenty, 
 and is probably all of twenty- 
 five." 
 
 The girl's eyes were a 
 strange, pale blue, the palest 
 eyes Edith had ever seen. 
 In figure she was slim. Her 
 thin face was cold, verging 
 on the ascetic, and appeared 
 always to be under perfect 
 control. A strange, silent 
 person, who appeared to have Miss Austin looked away 
 no friends and no emotions, J°i™ *^ ^^P'^'" ^° the 
 
 40 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 yet was inexplicably attractive. The one definitely 
 known fact regarding her was that she was to be found 
 any evening in the year presiding over a gambling 
 " club " just outside the Quarter and not so far from 
 the Italian glacis. 
 
 The two moved squarely into the doorway as Edith 
 came out — there was no 
 escaping them. The Cap- 
 tain was saying something in 
 a low voice — something that 
 had to be broken off short 
 in the middle of a word. 
 
 Embarrassed, Miss Austin 
 looked away from the Cap- 
 tain to the girl. And the 
 girl, some faintly humorous 
 thought flickering about her 
 pale eyes, returned the gaze 
 with a rather pleasing direct- 
 ness. 
 
 Meantime Captain Wa- 
 ters's alcoholic flush had 
 deepened to a rich red. 
 " Miss Austin," he finally got 
 out, — " Miss Carmichael." 
 
 The two girls smiled as 
 they bowed; and with that 
 smile went an unexpected 
 
 The girl returned the gaze wordless flash of understand- 
 with a rather pleasing di- ■ 
 
 rectness. 
 
 41 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " You were going out — alone? " asked the Captain, 
 after a moment. 
 
 Miss Austin nodded briskly. " Why not ! " 
 
 "Well — it will be dark within the hour, Miss 
 Austin." 
 
 Edith repressed an impulse to say : " I am per- 
 fectly able to take care of myself, thank you! " In- 
 stead she merely inquired — " Is n't there a native 
 market nearby where you can buy dogs? " 
 
 The Captain looked densely at her without reply- 
 ing; but Miss Carmichael nodded. " Not so near, 
 though," she said. " It 's quite a way up the Hata 
 High Street." 
 
 " My dear girl," the Captain put in, quite himself 
 now, and genuinely shocked, — " you were n't thinking 
 of going clean out of the Quarter — by yourself ! " 
 
 Edith nodded, with smiling eyes but compressed lips. 
 
 " Then you must surely let me go with you." 
 
 He was insistent. Edith shrank from the prospect. 
 " But after all," she thought, " perhaps it would be 
 safer with him than without him, especially as I don't 
 know where the market is. And of course he won't 
 insult me. He'll have to behave." 
 ■ The Captain hurried in for his coat. Miss Car- 
 michael' s eyes followed him; then she turned and 
 looked thoughtfully at Miss Austin. " You won't like 
 my suggesting it," she remarked quietly, "but why 
 don't you wait until morning and go with your own 
 folks." 
 
 Miss Austin bristled; and was pointedly silent. 
 42 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 The girl-gambler gave a little shrug. " I know 
 him," she said. " He 's the wrong sort." 
 
 Miss Austin pursed her lips, and turned away. 
 Then the Captain was with them again and was strug- 
 gling into his coat. He quite unnecessarily took 
 Edith's arm as they started down the steps. She with- 
 drew it and moved away from him, chatting with per- 
 fect composure as she walked along. And Miss Car- 
 michael stood looking after them, closely, until they 
 had passed out through the court-yard, stepped into 
 separate rickshaws, and whirled away. For a mo- 
 ment longer she stood there — thinking of this ungov- 
 erned, desperate life of "the Coast" through which 
 little Miss Austin was moving with utter innocence 
 but with an adventurous question in her demure eyes. 
 She wondered what that aunt was thinking of. Was 
 she insane? The uncle was a fool of course: all men 
 are fools. But the aunt otight to feel a little re- 
 sponsibility. On the Coast, of all places! Did she 
 suppose you can feed a male brute on whisky, gin, and 
 the Coast ladies for five years and then expect him to 
 know adventurous innocence when he sees it? Miss 
 Carmichael started slowly down the steps; hesitated; 
 came back to the porch; hesitated again; and finally 
 stood motionless, her pale eyes turned toward the 
 street and the line of waiting rickshaws. And she 
 drew her thin under lip in between her teeth. 
 
 Edith Austin breathed deep and looked about with 
 joy in her heart. For two days she had been cooped 
 
 43 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 up in the hotel ; now she could fill her healthy young 
 lungs again with the crisp November air. All along 
 Legation Street were soldiers — meek machine-like 
 Germans, snappy little Japanese, slouching American 
 marines, brigandish Italians, loose-breeched French — 
 walking and loafing by twos and threes. There were 
 extra sentries at the gate-house of each Legation com- 
 pound. Long heaps of reserve sand bags were piled 
 along the curbs like paving-material. From some- 
 where — nowhere — floated the magic notes of a 
 bugle. 
 
 Lifting her eyes she could see the top of the fifty- 
 foot Tartar wall that backs and dominates the Lega- 
 tion Quarter. There were sentries up there too — toy 
 men silhouetted against the radiant sky. Just beyond 
 either end of the confines of the Quarter, more than a 
 mile apart, loomed the great square pagodas over the 
 Chien and Hata gates. She knew that these, like the 
 wall, were occupied now — the Hatamen by German 
 troops, the Chienmen by American, — in order that the 
 perils of 1900 might not be invited again. Each 
 structure stood broad and high two hundred feet and 
 more. And even in the fading, vari-colored light of 
 the afterglow she could distinguish the gay reds and 
 blues and greens of the painted woodwork and the in- 
 tricately carved outlines of the curving eaves. 
 
 The hotel might be a pasteboard Paris; this, this 
 was Peking — Peking the swarming, Peking the ram- 
 shackle, Peking the barbaric, Peking the enchanting. 
 Hidden somewhere to the south were the glories and 
 
 44 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 grotesqueries of the Temple of Heaven. At their backs, 
 northwest, stood the red brick walls and the glazed yel- 
 low roofs of the Forbidden City. She wished, for the 
 moment, that the scattered mutterings of revolution 
 might really gather and break. Then perhaps the royal 
 Manchu family would flee again through tboSe sacred 
 gates as in 1900; perhaps beautiful, painted harem 
 girls would seek refuge here in the Quarter; perhaps 
 wonderful old eunuchs, right out of Marco Polo and 
 the Arabian Nights, would come flying in terror from 
 within the secret walls that had hidden the intrigues 
 of an empire. 
 
 For a moment the two rickshaws ran side by side. 
 Captain Waters looked across at the glowing face be- 
 side him ; then, with speeding pulse, dropped his eyes. 
 
 A German sentry stopped them at the East Gate, 
 marked the Captain's uniform, saluted, and stood 
 aside. They swung across the flat glacis to the wide 
 and populous Hata Street. As they turned north, the 
 Captain showed his teeth and pointed ahead. The 
 light was fading fast, but she could make out a long 
 string of laden camels approaching, swaying and dip- 
 ping and winding above the traffic of the street like 
 an endless brown serpent. 
 
 " You see," he called across, " the danger is past 
 now. Trafihc is going on again. You can trust John 
 Chinaman's instinct." 
 
 Edith looked about. Hundreds of yellow-skinned 
 ones were passing; coolies in tatters or bare of back 
 and leg, merchants in long blue gabardines and black 
 
 45 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 skull caps with red buttons. A few young men caught 
 her eye, fell in and ran behind her, shouted Oriental 
 insults and swelled to a crowd. 
 
 The rickshaws were close. " Are you sure it is 
 safe? " asked Edith. 
 
 The Captain scattered them with a look and a word. 
 " Perfectly," he replied then. " They would do this 
 any time. There's always some anti- foreign feeling, 
 you know." 
 
 " Baron von Ketteler was killed here in 1900! " he 
 called, a moment later, indicating a marble arch that 
 spanned the road. They passed under it and on, on 
 deeper into the heart of the Tartar City. A thousand 
 yellow sparkles were twinkling now in the fringe of 
 shops on either side of the highway ; a row of electric 
 lights suddenly flared out overhead. 
 
 The Captain shouted, at the rickshaw men. They 
 turned off, picked a way through the crowd, and en- 
 tered a narrow side-street. It was nearly dark here. 
 The Captain stepped down and came to her side. 
 
 " We'll leave the rickshaws here," he said, " and 
 have a look-see on foot." 
 
 He reached up to take her hand, but she eluded him 
 and leaped to the pavement as nimbly as a boy. As 
 she did so she was uncomfortably aware that his eyes 
 were intent on the free movements of her slim body. 
 Then he took her arm and guided her along the 
 crowded footway, up the dim little street. 
 
 They stopped before a row of barred and shuttered 
 buildings. 
 
 46 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 " That 's what I was afraid of," said the Captain 
 easily. " We 're too late. Not much doing here after 
 nightfall, you know. They have n't learned yet all 
 that artificial light will do for them. I guess it 's a 
 case of go back to the hotel — that is, if you feel you 
 must hurry." He consulted his watch. " It 's early 
 — not much after five. We might walk along the big 
 street and see the sights." 
 
 Miss Austin looked squarely at him and shook her 
 head. " No," she said, " we '11 go back." 
 
 There was something in the quaHty of her voice 
 that caused him to relax his hold on her arm. A 
 puzzled expression flitted into his eyes, and out 
 again. 
 
 " See," he observed in a casual voice, as they turned, 
 — ■" if you are still thinking of any possible danger, 
 look at that." 
 
 Wheeling into the narrow way from the Hatamen 
 Street came an imposing procession of mule-litters 
 and carts, preceded by a huge, gaudily decorated Se- 
 dan-chair with eight bearers and as many outrun- 
 ners. 
 
 " It 's some rich Chinaman,'" the Captain went on, 
 " coming back with his wives and his treasures. A 
 fortnight ago they were all flying to the seacoast for 
 foreign protection. This tells the story. If there 
 was the slightest danger you 'd never see that outfit 
 turning into this street. John, I tell you, is a wise 
 person — the wisest on earth." 
 
 The natives were crowding against the buildings to 
 
 47 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 make way for the great man. Miss Austin stood on 
 tiptoe and looked over a blue shoulder. 
 
 Behind the glass front of the red chair some object 
 was moving. It was a face, doubtless the face of the 
 personage. She looked past it to the row of three, 
 four, five litters. Was there a wife — or a concubine 
 — shut away in each ? How would it seem to be one 
 of a man's several women ? That was certainly what 
 you had to submit to in China. Perhaps — she was 
 thinking of the man at her side with the big shoulders 
 and the watery blue eyes — perhaps the experience was 
 not wholly unknown to the secretmost hearts of pa- 
 tient women in Western lands. She wished she had n't 
 come with him — even moved half a step away from 
 him, almost against a staring yellow man. Why did 
 men have to be like that? Why were they always 
 brushing your hand, or holding your arm, or schem- 
 ing to build up the preliminaries of a kiss? She con- 
 trolled a physical impulse to shudder. If the man 
 only knew how she hated, hated to be touched. 
 
 A d.ark figure appeared on a roof farther down the 
 street, at a point that the red chair was about to pass. 
 He wore baggy trousers and leggings, a carbine slung 
 "across his back, a small turban on his head, and on 
 his left wrist a falcon. By this token she knew him 
 for a Manchu. 
 
 The man slowly raised his right hand, poised it for 
 an instant, then threw something that might have been 
 a piece of pipe and that circled slowly, end over end, 
 into the shadows of the street. 
 
 48 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 "A bomb!" 
 
 She heard the word; then before her mind could 
 compass the situation Captain Waters lifted her off 
 
 He was gripping her close in his iron left arm. 
 
 the ground and almost threw her back into a recessed 
 doorway. 
 
 There was an explosion that flattened her against 
 the wood as if it meant to drive her through, that 
 
 49 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 tore at her ear drums, that rocked the ground under 
 her feet, that' hurled sprawling figures against her. 
 For a moment she was unconscious. She must have 
 fallen into the Captain's arms. Certainly, when her 
 brain cleared, he was gripping her close in his iron 
 left arm, and his right hand was in the act of lower- 
 ing an automatic pistol. She wondered if he had 
 been shooting. 
 
 Her eyes opened wider, and she made an effort to 
 free herself. It must have been a weak effort, for he 
 paid not the slightest attention to it. He was staring 
 out into the little street, that was now a smoking litter 
 of wreckage. The dust got into her throat and made 
 her cough. Her eyes smarted dreadfully. The Cap- 
 tain raised his revolver again, hesitated, then lowered 
 it. She tried to make out what he was looking at, 
 and then peered up and down the roadway. 
 
 The red chair had disappeared entirely ; indeed what 
 appeared to be a piece of it was lying almost at her 
 feet. Where it had been when the bomb fell the street 
 was choked with a confused tangle of bricks, boards, 
 mules, and human bodies. 
 
 The Captain suddenly turned and looked straight 
 down at her. The expression in his eyes first fright- 
 ened then angered her. She tried again to push him 
 away, but realized, with a sinking of the heart, that 
 she was weak and faint. In her confusion of mind 
 it did not occur to her that she had been resting there 
 within his arm for a moment without struggling. 
 
 50 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 There was something horribly direct about that look 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " It 's strange — strange," he was saying, " how 
 things happen. It took this thing to throw us to- 
 gether. Cost some lives, too." Her head sank, and 
 she pushed weakly against his chest with her elbow. 
 His lips brushed her ear. " Cost some lives, but here 
 we are. Queer world — eh, what! Oh, you beauty 
 — you raving little beauty, you! Set me wild when 
 I first saw you — been crazy for you — and here we 
 are! . . . But let's get out of here, for God's sake! 
 You make me forget everything. Quick — keep close 
 to me — this way, along the wall ! " 
 
 Couldn't the man understand? Couldn't he see 
 that she had fainted, that she — was going to — faint 
 again. . . . She jerked her head back and drew in a 
 quick breath of the choking air. At least he had re- 
 laxed the grip of that awful arm. There he was now, 
 moving sidewise, back to the wall, looking out ahead 
 but groping for her with his free hand. She caught 
 his sleeve and followed. To this extent he was right ; 
 he must at least get her safely to the main road. As 
 she stumbled forward the whole strange episode passed 
 again before her mind's eye like a stage play. It was 
 absurdly real. It couldn't have happened. 
 
 " Look out here ! " shouted the Captain. " Step 
 up!" 
 
 She obeyed; and stepped on, then over, a human 
 body. 
 
 51 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Moaning sounds came from the dark tangle in the 
 street. A mule was waving his hoofs and scrambling ; 
 while she watched, the animal got to its feet and stag- 
 gered out of the dark, cluttered impasse into the Hata 
 Street. 
 
 A man stumbled blindly against her, and groaned. 
 She had to shoulder him off as she moved slowly for- 
 ward. Frantic natives were now running from the 
 more or less wrecked shops and dwellings, waving 
 their hands and wailing in falsetto. Children were 
 crying. Two young girls came slowly out of a house 
 from which the front wall had been almost entirely 
 removed. For a moment they blocked the way, look- 
 ing on with dazed, blank eyes. Their foreheads, 
 noses, and chins were white with powder; their 
 straight, slanting eyebrows were heavily blackened; 
 their cheeks glistened with red paint; and the mouth 
 of each was a perfect Cupid's bow of bright carmine. 
 Their shining black hair was built up into elaborate 
 coiffures. Their dress was the embroidered short 
 coat and trousers of the Chinese gentlewoman who is 
 supposed never to appear in public. And they were 
 beautiful, with a haunting Oriental beauty. 
 
 Captain Waters thrust them roughly aside and 
 pressed forward, dragging Miss Austin with him over 
 and through the wreckage. They passed this spot 
 none too rapidly; for a window-corner gave way a 
 second later, and a puff of smoke curled out. The 
 shutters of a shop across the street were already blaz- 
 ing. Two men were slapping at it with their coats, 
 
 52 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 but the fire played nimbly in and out among the boards, 
 ran up the door-casing, and spread in a burst of light 
 along the eaves. 
 
 The two were past the thickest of the wreckage and 
 perhaps half-way out of the street when the Captain 
 again pressed her into a doorway. Edith peered out 
 around his bulky person. The street blazed with light 
 now ; by it she could see a number of brown-faced men 
 in blue turbans running in from the Hatamen Street. 
 They had knives at their belts, and carried heavy, 
 naked swords that glittered with damascene work and 
 inlaid silver. They were silent, and weirdly business- 
 like. Those in advance stopped at the first bodies and 
 swiftly looked them over; picked off rings, ear and 
 hair ornaments, purses, and jewelled girdles. 
 
 Captain Waters drew a second pistol from his pocket 
 and thrust it into her hand. 
 
 " Can you use it? " he asked. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "It's the Manchus. Looks as if they're pulHng 
 off the mutiny after all. Listen — ! " 
 
 Over the moaning and wailing and chattering, over 
 the crackling of a fire that was now roaring out 
 through heavily tiled roofs, came to their ears a faint 
 boom — another — a sudden series. Then, some- 
 where nearer at hand, a sharp, sputtering rattle. 
 " That 's a machine-gun ! " cried the Captain. 
 
 More of' the Manchu soldiers were now pouring 
 into the street. Here and there groups of them were 
 fighting over the loot. Three men with carbines on 
 
 53 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 their backs and old-fashioned revolvers in their hands 
 crowded up to the doorway in which Miss Austin and 
 the Captain were sheltered. The foremost raised his 
 weapon, peered over it at their white faces and at the 
 Captain's uniform; then, to her astonishment, smiled 
 and bowed. Captain Waters returned the bow stiffly. 
 There was a brief exchange of words in an unintelli- 
 gible singsong. The Captain made way, and drew 
 her aside with him. The soldiers bowed again, with 
 perfect Oriental suavity, then threw their weight 
 against the door, bore it from its hinges, and plunged 
 in over it. 
 
 " Better take our chance in getting out of this," said 
 Captain Waters. " He insists that they 're not touch- 
 ing foreigners. Anyhow, we 'd soon be cooked in 
 here." 
 
 They moved slowly along toward the highway. It 
 was lighter now, and the looters were working with 
 desperate speed. One of them, a giant Tartar with 
 a split lip, had carried the body of a woman from a 
 wrecked litter to a doorstep and propped it up. The 
 dead girl, young and slender, clad in a long robe of 
 red silk with embroidery in gold thread on the shoul- 
 ders and sleeves, looked almost alive as she half lay, 
 half sat, with her head supported by the door frame. 
 One arm was doubled stiffly across her chest, as if 
 clasping some precious object. The crouching soldier 
 glanced around from' his prize as Miss Austin and her 
 escort approached, saw the pistol in Edith's hand, and 
 
 54 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 smiled up at her admiringly; then turned back to tear 
 a ruby ornament from the ear of the dead girl. 
 
 They had got nearly to the Hata Street when the 
 Captain again stopped and held her close to the wall. 
 
 " Better go slow here," he said. " There may be 
 trouble outside. Keep ready with that pistol." 
 
 There was again something disturbing in his near- 
 ness to her. His voice had become hoarse and un- 
 steady, and he seemed to be trying not to look at her. 
 The veins stood out sharply on his flushed temple. 
 Not knowing what to say or do, she raised the pistol 
 and showed him that her finger was caressing the trig- 
 ger. 
 
 Suddenly he turned and looked deep into her eyes. 
 
 " Maybe I was too — well, too rough back there," 
 he began, a note of excitement rising in his voice as 
 he went on. Edith felt herself growing cold and 
 shrinking back against the wall. " Maybe I took too 
 much for granted — perhaps you did n't mean it. God, 
 how do I know what you mean ! But feeling you there 
 by me — in my arms — your face so near. . . ." 
 
 Again his arms were about her shoulders, holding 
 her close to him. A blaze of hot anger rushed up 
 within her. She wrestled her right arm free and 
 waved the pistol unsteadily. 
 
 " My God, girl ! " he cried. " You don't mean — " 
 Then he caught her wrist. 
 
 Suddenly Miss Austin's tense body relaxed. Her 
 face lighted with a shock of surprise that ran swiftly 
 
 55 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 off into relief. For picking her way coolly up the nar- 
 row street, her long blanket coat thrown back expos- 
 ing a blue middy blouse, a boy's plaid cap on her head, 
 a matter-of-fact expression on her thin face, was the 
 girl-gambler. 
 
 Captain Waters caught the expression on Miss Aus- 
 tin's face, and was puzzled. Then he turned. 
 
 "Hello," said Miss Carmichael coolly. "I fol- 
 lowed you up. Thought I 'd hke one of those dogs 
 myself." She was quietly looking them over as she 
 spoke. " The row 's most finished, I guess. The po- 
 lice are running all over the place. They '11 be in here 
 • before long, cutting off heads. Better get out before 
 they begin — it 's so spattery." 
 
 The Captain was biting upward at his moustache. 
 " Think we '11 have trouble getting back ? " 
 
 " We might, a little. But it 's unnecessary. There 's 
 a mission within five minutes of here — American, 
 too. Let 's get her over there. . . . Say, Miss Austin, 
 there 's someone trying to talk to you back there. 
 Friend of yours ? " 
 
 The Tartar of the split lip, still squatting by the 
 body in the red and gold robe, was beckoning and smil- 
 ing eagerly. He pointed at his prize, and beckoned 
 again. 
 
 " He certainly thinks he 's got a joke there," said 
 Miss Carmichael. " Watch him." 
 
 The soldier, still laughing heartily, raised the ami 
 that was clasped across the dead girl's breast and 
 prodded at the embroidered sleeve. Out crawled the 
 
 56 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 smallest dog Edith had ever seen — a jet black, al- 
 most blue-black, silky-haired, pugnosed little creature 
 with one white ear. The hair of his back and sides 
 hung almost to his feet. His beady eyes peered out 
 through a black and white jungle. If he had not been 
 so absurdly small — surely no more than seven or 
 eight inches in length — he might almost have passed 
 for a cocker spaniel. As it was, there was no mis- 
 taking him. 
 
 "A Peking Pug!" cried Miss Austin. All the in- 
 ner torment of the past ten minutes dropped from her 
 like a discarded cloak. Her eyes danced. Her pistol 
 clattered to the pavement and was forgotten; she did 
 not even know that the Captain, with a queer, dense 
 expression of face, picked it up and without a word 
 put it in his pocket. Nor was she aware that the 
 strangely pale eyes of Miss Carmichael were studying 
 them both out- of a cool, expressionless face. 
 
 The soldier gathered up the dog in one hand, shook 
 it playfully, and held it out. Miss Austin ran back 
 and took it. 
 
 " Is it really for me ? " she cried, wholly unconscious 
 that she was speaking in English to a Manchu. " Oh, 
 how nice of you ! Thank you ever, ever so much ! " 
 
 The soldier rose and bowed, clasping his hands be- 
 fore his breast. Edith had never seen a man bow 
 with such utter grace; she suddenly felt crude, as if 
 she were the barbarian. Then, still smiling, as with 
 a pleasing memory, the Tartar knelt by the body of 
 the dead girl and swiftly, one after another, tore the 
 
 57 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 gold-mounted rubies 
 from her fingers. 
 
 The native police 
 were ranging the 
 Hata Street, behead- 
 ing looters as they 
 caught them. The 
 shooting had stopped, 
 excepting the occa- 
 sional crack of a re- 
 volver to the south- 
 ward.. Every house 
 and shop was closed; 
 every private light 
 was out. A primitive 
 fire-company, dashing 
 to the scene, of trouble 
 in the market street, 
 had the deserted high- 
 way almost to itself. 
 The big white man 
 and the two girlish 
 figures walked north- 
 ward in silence. 
 
 " Are you all 
 right ? " whispered 
 Miss Carmichael, when the two had fallen a little be- 
 hind. "Was he ugly?" 
 
 Miss Austin was cuddling the dog close to her face, 
 like a muff. At the question she puckered her brows 
 
 58 
 
 Still smiling, the Tartar knelt by 
 the body of the dead girl and 
 swiftly tore the gold-mounted 
 rubies from her fingers. 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 as if trying to remember something, and a look of 
 pain came into her pretty eyes. 
 
 " Oh — it hardly matters now," she said. And 
 then, as if realizing the girlish inadequacy of her re- 
 ply, added: " But it was good of you to come." 
 
 Miss Carmichael fell silent. But when the Captain 
 started to turn in toward the gate of the mission com- 
 pound she rested a light hand on his arm and whis- 
 pered something. Then she herself rang the bell; 
 and when a Chinese servant answered, pressed back 
 against the wall and kept the Captain by her. 
 
 " Go in," she called to Miss Austin, — " go in. 
 Good-night. Don't forget that your dog is a delicate 
 little mite. Don't give him meat without chopping it 
 very fine. Good-night." 
 
 "Why — " faltered Miss Austin — "aren't you 
 coming too?" 
 
 " No — not in there. You 're best alone. It 's safe 
 enough for us, now that the row 's over." And slip- 
 ping her arm through the Captain's, she hurried him 
 away. 
 
 Well around the corner she stopped short, clasped 
 her two hands about the Captain's big forearm, and 
 looked up into his face that was baffled and sullen. 
 " What 's the matter, Jim? " she whispered. 
 
 " Never you mind," he growled. 
 
 " You were roughing it with the girl. I saw it. 
 I did n't think you were a dirty coward, Jim. But I 
 guess you are. You 're like the rest — one of the 
 worst, really. They 've kept you on the Coast too 
 
 59 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 long. It 's got you, the way it gets all of them sooner 
 or later. Sometimes — I even think it 's got — me." 
 
 " Did n't think anything would ever get you," mut- 
 tered the Captain. 
 
 " Never mind that now. What about this girl ? 
 Haven't you got any brains left? Can't you see she 
 doesn't talk our language? Can't you see she's de- 
 cent, Jim? " 
 
 Captain Waters chewed his lip. "How was I to 
 help it! She had me going — I was crazy. I can't 
 — now look here, I 've got to go back to that dam' 
 hotel and talk to her uncle and try to remember I 'm 
 an officer. An officer — oh, God ! . . . Guess 
 you 're right, Dixie. The Coast 's got me. It 's got 
 me, all right. But talking this way don't help. I 'd 
 like to know what I 'm to do. I 've got to go back to 
 that dam' hotel — I — " 
 
 " Shut up, Jim," said Miss Carmichael. Still clasp- 
 ing his arm, she leaned back against the wall. Her 
 face looked white and delicate in the faint light. Her 
 usually hard mouth had softened. " There 's a few 
 things I ain't, Jim," she breathed. " I 'm a gambler, 
 yes. I work for big Tex Connor of Shanghai, yes. 
 But there 's a few things I ain't. There 's no man 
 ever made love to me in Peking — not in Peking . . . 
 Jim, you leave that girl alone. Do you get me? 
 They '11 only be here a week or two. I guess there 's 
 a little plain manhood left in you somewhere." She 
 caught her breath. Her pale eyes were luminous. 
 Something that might have been either a sob or a bit- 
 
 60 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 ter little laugh escaped her. Under pretence of brush- 
 ing back a straying lock of hair she covered her face 
 for a moment with her hand. Then her head drooped 
 and sank against his breast. His arm slid about her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Let that child alone, Jim," she murmured. "I — 
 I '11 help you, Jim, if — if — Let her alone, that 's 
 all!" 
 
 Captain Waters, between density, surprise, and 
 weakness, looked down at the dark head against his 
 coat. " Hell," he muttered, " you 're acting as if you 
 cared about her ! " 
 
 Then he kissed her. 
 
 A Khaki-clad sergeant of marines (on special duty) 
 held conference with four grave missionaries in the 
 big house at the head of the compound. Five min- 
 utes later a rocket swished and soared in a slow curve 
 high above the roofs of the Tartar City, North, by 
 the great Hata Street. Twenty minutes more and a 
 long column of troops — slouching fellows in gray 
 campaign hats — came shuffling up on the double 
 quick, whisthng to a man " I 'm a Yankee Doodle 
 Dandy " (Cohan version) as an accelerant to the step. 
 
 While the beardless captain, leaving his Kentucky 
 horse at the gate, entered the compound, two sergeants 
 conversed by the long line of fighting men in the road. 
 One stood on his two legs and grinned unreservedly. 
 The other leaned on a New Model Springfield and 
 softly tapped his fixed bayonet. 
 
 6i 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Let that child alone, Jim. I — I '11 help you, Jim, if — if — 
 Let her alone, that 's all !" 
 
 " How many men did ye bring on th' dangerous 
 mission, Pete ? " inquired the one. 
 " A full comp'ny — hundred an' six." 
 " Th' last-mentioned six would 'a' done, Pete." 
 " Then why, in the name iv — " 
 62 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 " Tut, tut, me boy. 'T is holy ground ye 're all but 
 standin' on. 'T was a little matter iv th' tellyphone 
 wires bein' down. An' th' exercise ull be fine f r th' 
 boys. Not to say there ain't a bit o' class to th' young 
 lady that thinks mebbe she 'd like to go back to th' 
 hotel — an' her dog." 
 
 So it came about that forty men in Khaki with fixed 
 bayonets marched in rigid fours before the rickshaw 
 of Miss Austin, and sixty-six men marched as rigidly 
 by fours behind. Of whistling there was none. And 
 to the beardless Captain who rode beside her desper- 
 ately thinking up common acquaintances she confided 
 impulsively : " I never realized before that our own 
 soldiers were so goodlooking. Why, it 's just like 
 being with a lot of the boys at home." 
 
 To which the beardless one replied : " Well, of 
 course, in the Marine Corps — have to be picked men, 
 in a way — you see, the work we do . . ." And in- 
 as much as his baritone voice had been found pleas- 
 ing by the ladies of many ports, he hummed blithely : 
 
 From the halls of Montesumas to the shores of Tripolee 
 We fight our country's battles on the land and on the 
 sea. 
 
 When they reached the hotel he said good-night and 
 then shook hands twice. 
 
 Miss Austin smuggled the morsel of a dog under her 
 coat and went directly to her own room. Here her 
 first task was to make Wing Tee Wee — which was 
 his new name ; as was fitting, for did it not stand that 
 
 63 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 "Wing Tee Wee was a sweet Chinee?" — to make 
 Wing as comfortable as possible exactly in the mid- 
 dle of the broad white bed. 
 
 Then she confronted the mirror, and momentarily 
 depressed by the wan, pallid face that stared out at 
 her, slapped her cheeks and rubbed her temples and 
 forehead to bring the color back. After which she 
 rearranged her somewhat tousled hair, and dressed for 
 dinner. 
 
 Looking only a little less than her usual brisk self, 
 she sat on the edge of the bed and examined little 
 Wing with great care. 
 
 " Yes," she said, holding him up to the light and 
 playing with his one white ear, " you may not be quite 
 the same sort of blue-and-white as the dishes and 
 vases, but that wonderful hair of yours is certainly 
 about as near blue as black can be." 
 
 As if in reply. Wing threw back his head and made 
 the smallest sound that was ever dignified by the term 
 of barking. Miss Austin laughed softly, and cuddled 
 him close against her pretty neck. 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Wilberly, 
 still in neglige and drowsy of eye, came in from the 
 adjoining room. 
 
 " I 've had quite a nap," she observed. Then — 
 "Oh, you got that dog!" 
 
 Her niece nodded brightly, and held him up for in- 
 spection. 
 
 " He is cunning," mused Mrs. Wilberly. " But — 
 oh, yes ! It was n't a dog Harriet wanted. Wait a 
 
 64 
 
THE PEKING PUG 
 
 minute — I can show you on the letter. We read it 
 wrong. It is n't a P at all. It 's meant for an R, 
 JBut the pen points spread out on the last down stroke, 
 and the ink did n't run. If you look closely — There ! 
 You can see the little scratches. It 's a rug she wants, 
 not a pug — a Peking Rug." 
 
 " Oh, I see," replied Miss Austin demurely. " It 
 was a natural enough mistake, though. And it 's just 
 as well, because now I can keep Wing for myself. 
 . . . Look at him, Aunt! Did you ever in your life 
 see anything so perfectly darling?" 
 
 65 
 
Ill 
 
 CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 I DON'T exactly like the idea of being burned up," 
 said Miss Austin thoughtfully. 
 
 " But we can't burn here — in the Legation Quar- 
 ter," insisted the bony woman from Kansas City, — 
 " with everything solid masonry, and an open space all 
 around it — and the soldiers." 
 
 Miss Austin moved over to the window and looked 
 out at the roaring sky. She was very trim and girl- 
 ish. She wore a watch strapped to her left wrist. 
 Her left hand swung her brown shopping-bag to and 
 fro as she gazed out at the extraordinarily brilliant 
 spectacle of burning Peking. Somewhere to the west- 
 ward a roof fell in ; a spurt of flame shot up, threw off 
 down the wind a shining flame of sparks, and painted 
 its own momentary glory in red against the smoke 
 cloud behind and above it. 
 
 At the sight the pupils of Miss Austin's hazel eyes 
 expanded a very little, the color deepened in her 
 cheeks, and the muscles about her pretty mouth 
 twitched with inner excitement; but in a moment her 
 face resumed its usual girlishly demure expression. 
 
 The months of uncertainty were over for the curi- 
 ous assemblage of diplomats, tourists, bankers, cor- 
 
 66 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 respondents, soldiers of all nations and Chinese refu- 
 gees that packed the fortified Legation Quarter, — the 
 months that had al- 
 ternated strangely be- 
 tween panic and q, 
 commonplace quiet. 
 It is now the evening 
 of February 29th, 
 1 91 2. On the third 
 of December Nanking 
 had fallen ; Peking, 
 it appeared, was fall- 
 ing to-night. 
 
 Edith raised her left 
 hand and glanced at 
 her watch ; — twenty 
 minutes to nine. 
 
 Faintly to Edith's 
 ears, above the roar 
 of fifteen square miles 
 of burning buildings, 
 came the crack, rattle 
 and boom of large 
 
 ' I don't exactly like the idea of 
 being burned up," she said. 
 
 and small arms. They were fighting out there, 
 Manchus and Chinese — fighting, plundering, ravish- 
 ing. All that was most primitive and beastly in this 
 backward people was loose this night. The women, 
 out there, were undoubtedly by this time at the final 
 business of killing themselves. The modern stone 
 gutters that bordered the very modern pavements of 
 
 67 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 the ancient city were serving the ancient purpose of 
 draining ofif human blood. 
 
 Miss Austin compressed her hps, and turned, " My 
 people will be simply worried to death," she said. 
 " Aunt is just about down sick, and Uncle had to get 
 her over to the special train without waiting for me 
 to finish dressing; but he understood that I was com- 
 ing on with you. Now if you decide not to go. , . . 
 And the train leaves at nine ! " 
 
 " I 'm sure I don't know what to say," replied the 
 bony woman. " If my husband would only get back ! 
 You see he is n't all packed, even — What are you 
 going to do, Miss Austin ? " 
 
 This question was prompted by the sight of Edith 
 moving toward the door. 
 
 " I left Wing loose in my room." 
 
 With which rather inadequate reply. Miss Austin 
 went out. 
 
 Arriving in her own room, she stood for a moment 
 with pursed lips gazing down at the absurd little Pek- 
 ingese dog on the bed. Then she looked at her watch. 
 " Come, Wing," she remarked, with sudden decision ; 
 and cuddling him on her arm, she picked up her trav- 
 eling bag and umbrella with her free hand and left the 
 room and the hotel. 
 
 Outside, where usually stood a line of importunate 
 rickshaw coolies, there were only the huddling refu- 
 gees from the Tartar City. She made her way hur- 
 riedly through the crowd that swarmed over pavement 
 and sidewalk alike. Here and there a pair of almond 
 
 68 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 eyes stared at her. One big brown man elbowed close 
 to her and laughed. A European ofificer in a green 
 uniform lifted his hat and bowed, an ugly insistence 
 in his eyes. At this her step quickened; when she 
 passed through the opening in the great Tartar wall 
 she was almost running. 
 
 The approaches to the railway station were congested 
 with laden carts and disorderly piles of boxes and 
 crates and panic-stricken human beings. Even here 
 in the shadow of the wall that towered forty or fifty 
 feet above them, light from the burning city flickered 
 redly on yellow faces and threw denser shadows in 
 between the cluttered heaps of household goods. Men 
 were shouting. Women and children were wailing. 
 Somewhere up ahead a locomotive was coughing. 
 
 Glancing anxiously at her watch. Miss Austin strug- 
 gled slowly toward the noise of that locomotive. A 
 motor-car blocked the way, wedged in between two 
 carts. She got past by climbing over the forward 
 mud-guard. The chauffeur, a Chinese boy, watched 
 her with an impassive smile. 
 
 She could see a part of the train now. It was full 
 of white men and women; there were faces at every 
 window. Blue-clad Chinamen with blanched faces 
 were clinging to the platforms and steps between the 
 carfe and to each other. Many had climbed to 
 the roofs of the cars. There were soldiers up there, 
 too, on the roofs; American Marines, she thought, 
 from their olive drab clothing and dust-gray cam- 
 paign hats. She had to keep turning and twist- 
 
 69 
 
THE. CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 ing to protect Wing from the pressure of the 
 crowd. Her watch, as she hugged the dog close, 
 was right by the little black and white head. She 
 could see that the minute hand was all but on the hour 
 . . . closer ... it was on the hour. 
 
 There was a sudden quick rhythm in the coughing 
 of the engine. A bell began to ring. Her heart sank ; 
 for the cars were moving. Wing was looking up at 
 her, his tiny eyes shining out through the tangle of 
 silky black and white hair like glistening beads. He 
 reached out a diminutive tongue and licked her chin. 
 
 Miss Austin stopped, in some concern as to what 
 she should do next. The train was gone — that much 
 was clear. She turned back, then paused to look up 
 at the red sky. She shrank from the thought of re- 
 turning to the doomed city, even to the guarded Le- 
 gation Quarter. But certainly she could n't stay here 
 in this wild mob about the station. It was to be the 
 hotel and that bony woman from Kansas City, appar- 
 ently. That or nothing. 
 
 The crowd, that had been surging toward the train, 
 was now falling back. She found an opening be- 
 tween two stacks of freight, and started through it. 
 
 At the same moment an American Marine, a private 
 apparently, rushed into the narrow opening from the 
 other side. He was young, and not over tall. At 
 least, her eyes and his, when they met, seemed nearly 
 on a level. His eyes were blue and mild. His luxu- 
 riant hair, partly exposed by the backward tilt of his 
 campaign hat, was light brown and curly. His nose 
 
 70 
 
{^O^rJ^ 
 
 'I'm positively certain I must have danced with him, 
 somewhere." 
 
 71 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 was short, and it tipped up at the end. His mouth, 
 set above a rather small chin, was large and of an 
 amiable, easy-smiling inclination. He wore the full 
 equipment of the campaign soldier — blanket-roll 
 looped over one shoulder, knapsack, khaki-covered 
 canteen, revolver, bayonet, and bulging cartridge pock- 
 ets ; and he trailed a rifle. He was flushed, and a lit- 
 tle blown, as from hard running. He was, everything 
 considered, astonishingly attractive. It had not oc- 
 curred to Edith that a private soldier could be so at- 
 tractive. For one thing, he was utterly, comfortably 
 American. " He looks almost as if I had met him at 
 the Country Club back home," she thought swiftly, 
 " or having soda in Williams's drug store. It 's queer, 
 but I 'm positively certain I must have danced with 
 him, somewhere." He was hardly older than herself 
 
 — certainly not more than twenty-one or two. 
 
 The soldier, with a breathless " Excuse me. Miss 
 Austin ! " stepped aside in order to pass her. But she 
 stepped the same way ; and they stood face to face. In 
 some confusion she stepped back, just as he did the 
 same. Again they confronted each other. 
 
 Then he smiled — not disrespectfully, she thought, 
 with an odd and rather absurd little flutter in her mind 
 
 — and resting his shoulder against a packing-case, 
 drew a long breath. He had extraordinarily white, 
 even teeth. 
 
 " Guess it 's no use. Miss Austin," he said. " The 
 train 's gone." 
 
 " Yes," she replied ruefully, " it 's gone." 
 72 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 He took her in for a moment, with a good-natu 
 that was too easily and frankly of the home-tov 
 spirit to be in the least offensive. Then his mobi 
 face sobered and assumed an expression of sympath 
 
 "Were you left behind?" he asked. 
 
 She held the tiny dog against her face and noddc 
 over it with eyes that were suddenly misty. 
 
 "Folks gone?" 
 
 Again she nodded. 
 
 " Well, well," said he. Then he whistled ve: 
 softly. " Hm ! " he mused, in a brown study. 
 
 Edith wished he would say something more to tl 
 point than "Hm!" and "Well, well!" 
 
 His eyes wandered off down the track where tl 
 train had disappeared, then back toward the burnii 
 city. Suddenly he seemed to hit upon an idea. 1 
 straightened up; and an expression of soldier-like d 
 termination came over his face. He glanced bai 
 over his shoulder, as if seeking something. Then 1 
 turned to Edith, and asked, quite casually : " Do yc 
 want to go to Tientsin — now ? " 
 
 Edith, still holding Wing against her face, nodde 
 
 " Then come with me," said the extraordinary sc 
 dier. " I 'm in bad myself," he explained cheerfull 
 as he led the way back along the platform. " I h; 
 instructions to leave a message at our Attache's hou 
 and rejoin the Company here. Could n't make it." 
 
 He led her straight to the motor-car that she hi 
 had to climb over. It was a large touring-car wi 
 the top down; apparently of French make. Oil ai 
 
 73 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 acetylene lamps were all lighted, despite the glare from 
 beyond the wall. The Chinese chauffeur was still in 
 his seat, and was still blandly smiling. The carts that 
 had blocked his way were gone now. 
 
 The soldier drew his revolver, and uttered a Chinese 
 word. 
 
 The smile faded from the boy's face, and he hopped 
 nimbly to the ground. 
 
 " Get in," said the soldier to Miss Austin. 
 
 She hesitated, looked at him with startled eyes, bit 
 her lip, then stepped up into the front seat. On the 
 instant she reconsidered and started to her feet. But 
 the soldier waved her back into the seat, cranked up, 
 and leaped in beside her. The big car bounded for- 
 ward. 
 
 A pack of screaming yellow children, with faces 
 like painted eggs, tumbled headlong out of the way. 
 Muleteers plied their whips to make room. In a mo- 
 ment, as it seemed, they were out of the press about 
 the station and were headed southward on the Chien- 
 men Road across the Chinese city. Through the oc- 
 casionally tangled traffic and the scurrying natives, 
 the soldier picked his way with skill. 
 
 She stole a sidelong glance at him. He seemed to 
 feel it. They were in a relatively clear space. He 
 flashed a look at her. Their eyes met, in the brilliant 
 flickering light. As she wrenched hers away and 
 gazed off at the row of gaudily decorated one-story 
 houses that bordered the wide street, she could feel 
 the hot color rushing to her cheeks and temples. 
 
 74 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 " It 's eighty-odd miles to Tientsin," he said. 
 " And we 're either going there or we 're not — more 
 about that later. How are you standing it? " 
 
 Edith looked with an odd, absorbed expression at 
 her watch. 
 
 " It 's some experience ! " said he, with a sudden 
 glow in his voice. " I have n't the remotest idea whose 
 car this is. The Lord knows how far we 're going to 
 get in it and what 's going to happen to us. But I '11 
 say this right now, before any of it happens — you 're 
 a sport clear through." 
 
 Edith's ears burned. But she was still gazing at 
 the watch on her wrist. 
 
 " I was thinking," she said soberly, with a slight 
 huskiness in her voice, " that it is only six minutes 
 past nine. I 've known you just six minutes." 
 
 Suddenly she raised her head, closed her eyes tight 
 for a fraction of a second, and then, cuddling Wing 
 close, gazed out along the open road before them, and 
 managed a nervous little laugh. 
 
 " It is an experience! " she said. 
 
 He was watching her through narrowed eyelids. 
 He drew in a slow breath between partly opened lips ; 
 then brought himself back to his task. They were 
 clear of the city now. The big car leaped forward like 
 a dog off the leash. It bounded lightly over the rough 
 old road. It swerved and swung delicately around 
 the plodding carts and litters of the native families 
 that were bhndly carrying their treasures off toward 
 the protection of the white men by the sea. It swayed 
 
 75 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 like a birch canoe. And it sang, as it swayed and 
 leaped and swerved, like a homing bee. 
 
 " How did you know my name ? " she asked, with 
 a sudden recollection. 
 
 They were heading more to the southeastward, in 
 the region where the Peking-Tientsin highway swings 
 around the end of the old Royal Hunting Park. The 
 sky was now more dimly red behind them; and the 
 acetylene lamps were cutting holes of light through 
 the darkness ahead. 
 
 He did not reply at once. She thought that he had 
 not heard, and repeated her question. 
 
 " Why — it 's like this — " he began hesitatingly. 
 Then he seemed to remember. " I was in the company 
 that went out to the American mission that night, tc 
 fetch you in." 
 
 Edith looked back. There was a patch of dull red 
 off there in the northeast; that was all. The stars 
 were distinct now. She looked up, holding tight tc 
 the seat with her free hand. How the car lurched anc 
 jumped ! She looked at her soldier. He was driving 
 desperately through the night over one of the worsi 
 roads in the world, but with easy assurance. He wa; 
 only a boy — a nice American boy ! 
 
 She wished her pulse would quiet down. Even nov 
 as she looked at him, she knew that her color was ris 
 ing again. She was glad that the starlight was fain 
 and that he would not know. She wondered if eve: 
 
 76 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 before in the world a girl and a man had been caught 
 up and whirled into so utterly romantic an episode. 
 It was n't his fault. And it certainly was n't hers. 
 It was disconcerting — yes. It was carrying her fas- 
 ter than she could think. But it was perfect. She 
 had never before felt exactly like this. 
 
 The car plunged honking through a sleeping village. 
 The low houses of mud brick with curving tile 
 roofs nestled close along the road. All were dark, as 
 if asleep like the unthinking folk within. They 
 breathed out the peace of resignation, the age-old spirit 
 of China. 
 
 The village watchman, open-mouthed, gong in hand, 
 pressed against the wall of a house as they swept by. 
 
 Then the village was gone. The flat, open country- 
 side lay wide beneath the stars. Something within 
 made her catch her breath, as her eyes roved from one 
 dim horizon line to the other. She looked up again at 
 the stars. 
 
 The soldier glanced around. Their eyes were very 
 close. He smiled. Even in that faint light she could 
 see his white teeth. It was pleasant to see them. 
 
 " God's own guides," he said, nodding upward, then 
 bent his gaze on the road. 
 
 She did not catch the phrase. Without looking at 
 her he repeated, again with a jerk of his head indicat- 
 ing the star-sprinkled sky overhead, — 
 
 " ' They 're God's own guides on the old trail.' " 
 
 " Oh," she murmured, — " yes. I did n't hear. I 
 love Kipling." 
 
 77 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 It was an hour later. The soldier was driving more 
 slowly. A new sound was coming to her ears — a 
 soft, musical whine, a faint singing in the air that was 
 barely distinguishable over the steady purring of the 
 motor. It came again — and again. It was ominous ; 
 she could not have said why. 
 
 Then she caught another sound. It was very faint 
 and far-away. It sounded, she thought, like cham- 
 pagne-corks popping in another room. Wing stirred 
 in her arms, and she realized that she was holding him 
 too tightly. 
 
 Again she heard that whining sound. It ended ab- 
 ruptly with a sut! 
 
 The engine, that had been running smoothly and 
 sweetly, suddenly exploded — once, twice — like a pis- 
 tol shot at their feet ; and the car, at the same moment, 
 took to jerking violently. There was a flash of light 
 behind then that for an instant lighted the road and 
 a row of abandoned carts beside it. Then the soldier, 
 with an exclamation, drove his foot down on the 
 brake-pedal, the car stopped short, and Edith pitched 
 forward. 
 
 He caught her arm with a strong hand just as her 
 knees touched the dash board, and drew her back into 
 the seat. For a moment he stood over her, his hand 
 on her shoulder. She wondered, in a momentary flash 
 of cool intelligence, why she did not shake it off. 
 Every nerve in her body was conscious of the pressure 
 of that hand. An impulse came to ask what was the 
 matter; but she said nothing, merely lifted Wing and 
 
 78 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 held him against her cheek. She felt, rather than saw, 
 that her soldier was standing erect, looking out ahead. 
 Again that singing whine, overhead. She began to 
 understand now; it was the song of a bullet. The 
 corks were still popping, away-off in the darkness. 
 
 The soldier bent quickly down then, until his face 
 was close to hers. She wondered, thinking with great 
 rapidity, what he meant to do; and shrank back in 
 the seat. He relaxed his grip on her shoulder, delib- 
 erately put his arm about her, slipped his other arm 
 under her knees, picked her up as if she were a 
 child, swung her around and, himself kneeling on 
 the seat, gently deposited her on the floor of the ton- 
 neau. 
 
 Never before in her independent young life had a 
 man taken her in his arms. Danger, even, seemed no 
 excuse that this man should do so now. She could 
 have prevented it. She could have leaped over the 
 seat back as lightly as he. Yet for a moment he had 
 held her against him, her soft turban and hair and 
 forehead had brushed his cheek. Now his arm lin- 
 gered caressingly about her shoulders as he moved his 
 canteen and knapsack from under her feet and ar- 
 ranged the blanket-roll at her back. And she was 
 meekly submitting, holding fast to the tiny dog in her 
 lap and turning up to him a white, inquiring face. 
 
 For a moment he leaned down close to that face, 
 looking into it. 
 
 " Stay right here," he said gently. " The car is pro- 
 tection enough, I think, for now. They 're not shoot- 
 
 79 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 ing at us, but we seem tO' be right in the line of fire of 
 a skirmish, down the Hne." 
 
 "Where are you going?" she asked anxiously, as 
 he straightened up. 
 
 " I 've got to look over the engine," he replied, " and 
 find out what they did to us. Be back in a minute." 
 
 He disappeared. She could hear him moving about, 
 tinkering with the engine, and striking matches. It 
 seemed a long time. The corks were still popping in- 
 termittently. Every minute or so a bullet sang by. 
 
 " Please come ! " she called, a little catch of excite- 
 ment in her voice. 
 
 He laughed softly, and called back : " In a min- 
 ute." 
 
 He struck more matches. Soon she felt the car- 
 body move as he leaped up in front. Then appeared 
 a heavy boot and a sturdy calf enclosed in a laced leg- 
 ging, feeling its way toward a footing. She caught 
 the ankle and guided it. A moment and he was 
 crowded in beside her. She sat forward and made an 
 efifort to give him part of the blanket ; but he crouched 
 down beside her, took her two shoulders in his hands 
 and firmly pressed her back against it. 
 
 "You just make yourself comfortable," he said. 
 " We 're up against it — for fair. We can't go on, 
 on foot even, while they 're fighting. So just make 
 up your mind to settle down and make the best of 
 it." 
 
 " My mind 's all right," she replied. His hands 
 were still on her shoulders. She moved uneasily, but 
 
 80 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 he did not take them away. "What happened?" 
 
 " Queerest accident I ever heard of. A rifle ball hit 
 the interrupter box of the magneto." 
 
 " Can you repair it? " 
 
 " Hardly," said he, shaking his head. 
 
 The hands on her shoulders seemed as if charged 
 with some current subtler than electricity. His eyes 
 were on hers. She had to fight down an impulse to 
 sway toward him. She made a desperate effort to 
 control herself. 
 
 " Things are pretty serious, then, are n't they ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 His face was very close. 
 
 " Very," he replied. And his voice trembled a little. 
 He hesitated. He seemed to be having some difificulty 
 with his throat. " I don't want to frighten you," he 
 went on, after a moment, " but it could hardly be more 
 serious for you." 
 
 " And for you," she breathed. 
 
 " It does n't matter about me." He seemed sud- 
 denly bitter. " I 'm only fodder for bullets, anyhow. 
 I should n't have brought you." 
 
 " But I asked you to bring me." 
 
 " That makes no difference. You 're a girl. That 
 situation was up to me. Absolutely." 
 
 She bridled at this. Was there a man anywhere in 
 this masculine world who could perceive woman as 
 responsible, independent human material? 
 
 " Please," she said gently, " if there 's any fault or 
 blame it is half mine. I '11 take my share." 
 
 8i 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 There was unconscious force behind her girlish soft- 
 ness. A sudden deeper admiration shone out of his 
 blue eyes, and his hands rested more lightly on her 
 shoulders. His touch was caressing. Slowly the 
 hands slid down her arms, hesitated at her wrists, then 
 descended on her hands, removed them gently from 
 the curled-up dog, and clasped them. She held her 
 breath. Hei- head sank ba^k against the cushions. 
 
 " The situation is about this," he was saying. 
 " We 're thirty or forty miles from Peking, and forty 
 or fifty from Tientsin. Whatever we do, however 
 we get out of here, it 's a matter of footwork or a cart, 
 if there 's such a thing to be had. I would n't dare 
 try to get you back to Peking now. And it '11 take a 
 couple of days, at the best, to make Tientsin. All 
 this, if we can get on at all. Right now we 're under 
 fire, and for all we know we may find ourselves any 
 minute in the middle of a battle. It 's as serious as 
 that." 
 
 Her confused mind was beginning to clear. Her 
 hands returned his pressure. 
 
 " It 's all right," she said. " It is n't your fault, 
 nor mine. We '11 simply make the best of it. Either 
 we get out or we don't, that 's all." 
 
 She gently withdrew one hand. It was a compro- 
 mise that, at the moment, seemed reasonable. He took 
 the hand that she left to him in both of his ; bent over 
 and kissed the fingers, one by one ; deliberately unbut- 
 toned her glove and drew it off; then kissed the bare 
 fingers and the back of her hand. Edith was leaning 
 
 82 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 back with half-closed eyes, smiling a little smile that 
 he could not see in the dim light. 
 
 " I 'm going to tell you something," he said, a little 
 later. " There 's no use of our pretending that this 
 is n't a very remarkable experience." 
 
 She stirred, but said nothing. 
 
 " It is^ you know. I don't believe a man and a girl 
 ever had a more remarkable one." 
 
 The way he pronounced the word " man " recalled 
 to her with an odd little thrill what a boy he was. He 
 went on. 
 
 " And I don't want you to think I don't appreciate 
 it. It 's a big thing — an awful big thing. It 's won- 
 derful. It looks as if Fate had just made up its mind 
 to pick up us two and throw us together." 
 
 " I know," she breathed. " And I don't even know 
 your name." 
 
 At this they both laughed. 
 
 " Is n't that just it! " he cried. " That shows how 
 much names and positions and all really matter. Now 
 listen. Here's what I was going to tell you. My 
 name — my military name — is Sanders, Harry Sand- 
 ers. That 's the name I enlisted under. The boys 
 in the Company call me Curly Sanders. My story is 
 a very strange one. Perhaps you 've noticed that I 
 don't talk quite the same as some private soldiers — 
 my use of English, I mean. Though, after all, there 's 
 all kinds in the service. But I was brought up to 
 something different. My father is a very rich man — 
 a multi-millionaire." 
 
 83 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " It does n't seem to matter," said she, " the way I 
 feel to-night, who your father is — or who you are." 
 
 " I know," said he. " It 's just you and me — the 
 man and the woman. That, I suppose, is what love is. 
 Real love, I mean. The big thing." 
 
 They were silent for a time. Then he resumed his 
 story. 
 
 " Last year my father made up his mind that I had 
 to go into his business — at the bottom and work up. 
 When I objected, he cut me off — would n't give me 
 a cent. I tried to get along by myself for awhile. 
 But it 's hard, you know, earning a living, when your 
 parents haven't given you the right kind of a train- 
 ing to start with. One day I saw a recruiting station 
 of the U. S. Marines. In a park. It struck me that 
 I was young — • only twenty-two. It looked like a 
 good chance to travel around a bit and see the world 
 in a pretty interesting way. Certainly it was a heap 
 better than the job I had in a shoe-store." 
 
 "Oh," she murmured, "you did that?" 
 
 " Yes. And sold tips to newspapers — and drove 
 a taxi — and tried the express-business as a teamster, 
 and strikebreaking — all sorts of things." 
 
 " It was plucky of you." 
 
 " Oh, no. Any fellow would have done it. Any- 
 how, I knew it wotdd be a shock to the Governor and 
 it would n't hurt me, so I enlisted. I 'm glad I did. 
 It brought me out to China and to you. ... It is 
 all queer and strange. But I 'm going to say this — 
 
 84 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 now, before anything more serious happens to us. We 
 are n't responsible for this. It just happened. Here 
 we are. There 's no sense pretending we have n't got 
 something for each other. My job now is to get you 
 out of here and safe to Tientsin. I 'm going to do it, 
 if I can. If not, if I fail at it — well, I love you, 
 that 's all. It has come to me, the big experience. 
 And I 'm going to give you this. Whatever happens, 
 you must keep it always." He took from his little 
 finger a heavy seal ring and placed it on the third 
 finger of her left hand. 
 
 Edith said nothing. For a long moment she sat 
 looking down at the ring and turning it slowly round 
 and round her finger. 
 
 " It is — strange," she murmured. 
 
 He nodded. He took her two hands and pressed 
 his warm lips against them, one after the other. He 
 released them, slipped his arms about her shoulders 
 and drew her closer to him. She made an effort to 
 hold herself back. 
 
 " Edith," he whispered, close to her ear. 
 
 Had she told him her name was Edith? She was 
 trying to think. Strange vague forces, newly released 
 within her, seemed to be swarming over her mind and 
 undermining her will. 
 
 " Not now," she was breathing — " not yet — " 
 She managed to wrench herself free. Wing, dis- 
 turbed, set up a barking that for the moment drew 
 their attention. 
 
 85 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " You have n't — one — for me ? " he was pleading. 
 
 She was fighting desperately to collect her facul- 
 ties. 
 
 "Not one — Edith?" 
 
 " Wait," she managed to say. " It is — we don't 
 know yet that it is love. It could n't come as quickly 
 as this." She felt that he was smiling. " Well then, 
 if it could — how can we be sure ? " 
 
 " Are n't you sure ? " he asked, reproachfully. 
 
 " No — I 'm not. I 'm not. It 's been such a 
 whirl. And it has all been so — so romantic." 
 
 "Perfect!" said he. 
 
 " Perhaps — " she was looking at him with a sud- 
 den steadiness that surprised herself — "perhaps I 
 don't love you at all. Perhaps it is just the thrill of 
 all that has happened -^ our being together this way 
 — and you are nice." 
 
 " Are you sorry you took the ring, Edith? " 
 
 " Why " — she hesitated — " no. I simply can't tell 
 anything about it. I just don't know. Can't you 
 understand ? " 
 
 He shook his head, " You puzzle me." 
 
 She hesitated. He again reached forward and took 
 her in his arms, firmly this time. He held her head 
 up close to his, in the hollow of his arm. His eyes 
 were gazing into hers. His lips were hovering close 
 to hers. But she roused, wrenched herself partly free, 
 and buried her face on his shoulder. 
 
 " Oh — please ! " she whispered. 
 
 "Not one?" 
 
 86 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 " I 'm sorry,'' she said. " I really don't mean to be cross, 
 
 " Well — on the forehead — just one — " 
 He raised her head. She feared he was going to 
 kiss her lips, and started to dodge away ; but he held 
 her face firmly between his hands and brushed his lips 
 gently against her forehead. Then he released her. 
 She sank back again the cushions with pounding tem- 
 ples, and covered her face with her hands. 
 
 He leaned forward. " Do you regret it, dear? " 
 She lowered her hands and for a moment looked 
 at him. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears. She 
 rested a light hand on his arm. 
 
 " I 'ra sorry," she said. " I really don't mean to 
 be cross. You 're saving my life, and — " 
 
 " Have n't saved it yet," he interrupted grimly. 
 87 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " No, but — How quiet it is ! I don't believe 
 they 're shooting now." 
 
 They were silent, listening. 
 
 She deposited Wing on the seat, got to her knees, 
 and looked out over the road ahead. Faint, far away, 
 there was a new noise in the night, a coughing sound. 
 " Come up here! " she commanded. 
 
 They stood side by side in the car. She was draw- 
 ing on the glove he had removed. After a moment 
 they sought each other's eyes. " It 's an engine," she 
 cried, " a train ! They 've been stopped by the fight- 
 ing. Oh, do you think we can get to it ! " And she 
 opened the door and stepped to the ground. 
 
 Jie stood motionless, looking after her rather rue- 
 fully. Then slowly, very slowly, he put on his equip- 
 ment and followed. 
 
 " I 'm almost sorry," he said. 
 
 She tapped the dusty road with a neatly shod toe. 
 " We must hurry." 
 
 " I 'm sorry, sort of. It smashes our dream." 
 
 " You don't want me to be killed," said she. 
 
 The situation had slipped out of his grasp. Her 
 mood had changed. 
 
 " Of course not. But, oh, Edith — " 
 
 He tried to take her in his arms; but she had no 
 difficulty in eluding him, hampered as he was with his 
 blanket-roll and rifle, and her satchel. 
 
 "Don't — please!" she said. "You'll hurt 
 Wing." 
 
 88 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 His expression of exasperation was lost in the darii- 
 ness. 
 
 She started off along the road. There was nothing 
 for it but to catch up with her and take her arm. 
 She walked easily and rapidly. He looked down ad- 
 miringly at her swinging step. 
 
 " I know who you are," she broke out unexpectedly, 
 after they had walked a little way in silence. 
 " You 're Charlie Snyder, of Middletown." 
 
 The hand that held her arm moved with a sudden 
 start. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "I told you the truth. My 
 father is rich. I 'm a rich man myself. I ran away 
 to enlist. I 'm Charlie Snyder, of Middletown." 
 
 Edith was in a brown study. " I know your sis- 
 ter, Betsy," she went on. " We were at school to- 
 gether." She stopped short. She knew other things. 
 The escapades of Charlie Snyder were still a matter 
 of gossip, even in the neighboring city in which she 
 lived. This very matter of his enlistment had filled 
 the local papers for just one blazing day before old 
 William H. Snyder could make his influence felt. It 
 was a chorus-girl story — and not of one chorus girl, 
 but two ! Broadway had made short work of Charlie 
 Snyder. 
 
 She disengaged her arm, and went on unsupported, 
 holding Wing against her breast and swinging her 
 shopping-bag. Her lips were compressed. The same 
 shadow of night that hid the queer baffled expression 
 
 89 
 
•THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 on his face happily concealed the flush that came and 
 went on hers — that came and went with certain trou- 
 bled thoughts. 
 
 They walked through another small village whose in- 
 habitants of every age were out on the road in excited 
 groups. They passed out between the last two houses 
 and saw, a quarter of a mile away across the fields, a 
 long train of passenger-cars. Farther along, by the 
 light of a row of bonfires, a swarm of men were work- 
 ing on the track. Most of the passengers appeared 
 to be out, standing in dark little knots or moving 
 slowly to and fro in the firelight. 
 
 Edith and her soldier turned off from the road and 
 stumbled across a field of stubble. They came to a 
 sunken road. He lowered her into it, and lifted her 
 out on the farther side. They picked their way among 
 a score of earthen mounds, with joss papers fluttering 
 from the top of each, that she knew for ancestral 
 graves. 
 
 There was a small farmhouse in a walled compound 
 by the railroad. In the shadow of the wall, they 
 paused. 
 
 " It 's hard to let you go like this," he said. She 
 felt that he was trying to force a note of sentiment into 
 his voice. But the effort was not wholly successful. 
 There had been magic between them this night, a 
 magic that had gone as a bubble goes. 
 
 " Thank you," she said gently. " You got me 
 here." 
 
 He tried to press closer, but she held him off. " I '11 
 90 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 write," he whispered. " Will you be at the Astor 
 House in Tientsin ? " 
 
 She shook her head. " You must n't write." 
 " But — you 're not stopping it like this — " 
 She nodded. " We must. It was a mistake." 
 "A mistake!" he repeated bitterly, almost angrily. 
 " Then it was what you said — just the romance, not 
 me." 
 
 "Don't," she murmured. "Please, let me go!" 
 He released her hand ; and she slipped unobtrusively 
 out by the train, among the shadows and the moving 
 groups of men, women and children passengers and 
 the curious, crowding Chinese. She stood quietly 
 there, a slim pretty girl in a tailored suit, turban, and 
 white gloves, carrying in one hand an umbrella and 
 a small satchel, and holding a tiny Pekingese dog that 
 stirred in her arm and licked her face. 
 
 And standing there, she heard an officer call sharply : 
 " Here, Sanders, what are you doing back here ! Get 
 forward there on the track work, and be quick about 
 it." 
 
 She pressed her hand to her eyes. How confus- 
 ing it was. What a night! That officer was an ac- 
 quaintance of hers. She turned away, unwilling to 
 trust herself tO' speak to him. 
 
 Then she remembered that Charlie Snyder's ring 
 was still on her finger. She wrenched it off. He was 
 coming. He would have to pass her. It would 
 hardly do for her to hand it to him — before all these 
 people. She dropped it on the ground, and looked at 
 
 91 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 him. His eyes followed the movement. But instead 
 of picking it up, he kicked it contemptuously aside, 
 strode by with stiff, military manner, and went on un- 
 til she lost him in the shifting crowd. At the sight a 
 
 " Your Aunt and I have worried about you.' 
 
 little, a very little, of the magic that had woven its 
 web about her heart and senses not an hour earlier 
 fluttered back. It was an act of bravado; but she 
 liked him for it. It was a better ending than the 
 
 92 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 other. She looked on the ground for the ring. But 
 over the spot where it had lain was the firmly planted 
 foot of a bland, moon-faced Chinaman. She gave a 
 little shrug. That, too, was better. And she turned 
 her eyes to the train. 
 
 What she saw there made her pulse jump. At an 
 open window not five yards away was the white face 
 of her aunt, and behind it, peering over her shoulder, 
 the rather fat, business-worn face of her uncle, Mr. 
 Wilberly. 
 
 " For goodness' sake, Edith ! " cried Mrs. Wilberly. 
 " Where have you been, child? " 
 
 Miss Austin, as she nodded and smiled and then 
 moved toward the steps at the end of the car, found 
 herself doing some rapid thinking. " How on earth 
 shall I explain it to them? " she was saying to herself. 
 " How much shall I tell. I 've got to say something. 
 People don't pop up in the middle of the night from no- 
 where — not so often, and not in the heart of China." 
 But her wits were too confused to settle this little prob- 
 lem. She found herself getting on the train and making 
 her way along the side corridor to the compartment in 
 which her aunt was reclining. 
 
 " How on earth — " began that lady again. 
 
 " I felt sure you were somewhere on the train," 
 her uncle interrupted, with an apologetic expression. 
 " I tried to look through for you, but it was so 
 crowded — " 
 
 " Frank, you told me you had looked through," 
 cried Mrs. Wilberly, reproachfully. 
 
 93 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Well, my dear, I did. I went everywhere it was 
 humanly possible to gO'. You 've no idea how it is. 
 I tell you there are two hundred men traveling on the 
 roof. It 's clear enough now that she was on the 
 train, is n't it ? " And the uncle added, with assumed 
 cheerfulness, " It 's a lucky thing you stepped out 
 here, Edith, and we happened to see you. Your aunt 
 and I have worried about you." 
 
 Miss Austin smiled, and said nothing. 
 
 A little later, a fellow passenger stopped at the door 
 of the compartment to inform them that the track was 
 repaired and the line reported clear to Tientsin. 
 " We '11 be off in two minutes," he said. Then the 
 locomotive whistled, and there was the sound of men 
 clambering to the roof of the car and moving about 
 up there, as the Chinese passengers and the military 
 escort prepared to continue the journey at that pre- 
 carious altitude. 
 
 On the following evening. Miss Austin, in a pale 
 yellow evening gown with a flat gold ribbon bound 
 about her fluffy hair, met her aunt in the hall of the 
 Astor House at Tientsin and went in with her to 
 dinner. Mrs. Wilberly, refreshed after a long sleep 
 in a comfortable hotel, covertly watched her niece as 
 she seated herself at the table and picked up the 
 elaborate menu-card. She was thinking that Miss 
 Edith Austin was an unusually beautiful girl. It was 
 curious that she did not take more kindly to the men. 
 At times she even seemed to avoid them. She ap- 
 
 94 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 parently preferred going about by herself. A regular 
 little Miss Independent, she was. 
 
 " The same old thing," said Edith pleasantly, run- 
 ning her eye down the long card. " It looks like a real 
 French dinner. But it is n't. Do you know. Aunt, 
 that 's one reason I '11 be glad to get out of China — 
 just to eat a real meal, where there is n't always some- 
 thing the matter with the green vegetables, and the 
 butter does n't come in a can from Australia and the 
 milk in a can from home. I 'd give anything just to 
 have things taste right again. Oh, by the way, 
 where 's Uncle ? " 
 
 " I meant to tell you," replied Mrs. Wilberly, " he 's' 
 invited company to dine with us. Did you ever hear 
 of Charlie Snyder, of Middletown?" 
 
 Edith sat perfectly still; but her slim body had be- 
 come suddenly rigid, and her fingers pressed so tightly 
 against the menu-card in her hands that the tips, 
 usually a healthy pink, went white. She could not 
 speak; so she nodded. 
 
 " Well, it 's he. A queer, romantic story. He en- 
 listed, you know — in the Marines. He 'd got into 
 some trouble. His father decided to leave him in for 
 a year, to get the discipline. Then he had Senator 
 Mangelburg arrange with the Department to get him 
 out. Your uncle says that he 's really a nice boy, 
 and it 's done him a world of good — quite made a 
 man of him." 
 
 Edith's eyes were fixed on the pedestal of the flower- 
 vase that stood in the center of the table. Her head 
 
 95 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 was swimming. She heard steps behind her, and Mr. 
 Wilberly's voice. She saw her aunt smiling and pre- 
 paring to rise, and knew that she must rise too. She 
 did rise. She stood motionless for a second, fighting 
 down the confused tumult in her mind. Then she 
 turned. 
 
 There stood her stout uncle. And beside him was a 
 tall, broad-shouldered young man of twenty- four or 
 five, with straight black hair, heavy eyebrows, black 
 eyes, and with a noticeably long, " strong " chin. He 
 wore a dinner-coat. She felt that she was turning 
 pale; and steadied herself by resting the knuckles of 
 one clenched hand on the table. 
 
 Then they sat down. 
 
 Fortunately for Edith, who could not possibly have 
 framed a five-word sentence, the real Charlie Snyder 
 was fully as talkative as his blond counterfeit had been. 
 And Mr. Wilberly was plying him with questions about 
 his extraordinary experience as a private in the 
 Marines. 
 
 " It 's been rather hard luck," said the young man 
 — this was later, over the Parisian coffee and the 
 Manila cigars — " that they let me out when they did 
 last week. I 'd like to have stayed in for the Revolu- 
 tion. But once the orders came to strike my name 
 off the roll and hand me my discharge, I had to go. 
 I was n't a soldier any more." 
 
 He turned to Edith. " You might think it a rough 
 life. Miss Austin. But it 's astonishingly interesting. 
 There are all kinds of men in the service, you know. 
 
 96 
 
She felt that she was turning pale. 
 
 97 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 And it does one good to knock around with them. 
 You 'd be astonished to know how much one really 
 learns about life just being close to those boys." 
 
 " Yes," murmured Edith, a shade drily, " I suppose 
 I would." 
 
 " And everything considered, they 're nice boys. 
 Good fellows. They have their faults of course. 
 Kipling hit it, with his ' Absent-Minded Beggar ' 
 thing. They 're a harum-scarum lot. Some of 'em 
 drink a bit too much. And some have adventures that 
 I would n't exactly repeat to you here. But taken by 
 and large, they 're real. They 've taught me a lot. 
 Why, take Curly Sanders alone. My life — the rest 
 of it — would be a lot poorer if I 'd never known 
 Curly Sanders. I 'm simply dippy about Curly." 
 
 Miss Austin's hands were clasped tightly in her lap, 
 under the table. Her face was expressionless. 
 
 " Curly, you see, is really a gifted person," ran on 
 the talkative young man. " He 's one of that rare 
 sort that actually live in a world of make-believe. It 
 is n't his fault. He 's a walking Arabian Nights. He 
 can't cross the street without running bang into the 
 most extraordinary adventure. Real ones, you know. 
 They happen to him. Mostly with ladies. He is — 
 forgive me, Mrs. Wilberly, but he is — simply one 
 wonder with the ladies. Rich and poor, high and low, 
 they 're all alike to Curly. 
 
 " And the joy of it is, he always comes right back 
 and tells us all about it. Of course, you can never 
 be sure how much of what he tells is so'. But he 's 
 
 98 
 
CHARLIE SNYDER 
 
 always specific as to names and places and dates. 
 And it 's always gorgeous. Why, he must be down 
 here now — it was our Company that came with your 
 train. K Company went up day before yesterday in 
 their place. Come to think of it, Miss Austin, Curly 
 is from your town. His father 's a grocer. Curly 
 went to high-school there. Then he had to drive a 
 grocery-wagon. Then he worked in — oh, Williams's 
 drug store, a soda water clerk. Then he skipped out 
 to New York, had some hard luck, and enlisted. 
 
 " I must certainly look Curly up to-morrow. It 's 
 absolutely sure that he 's had some hair-raising ad- 
 venture in this mix-up. And he '11 begin telling me 
 all about it as soon as he sees me." 
 
 More was said, but it passed by Miss Austin's ears 
 unheard. She could only smile and nod mechanically 
 now and then to give an appearance of being in the 
 talk. 
 
 But gradually as she sat there her brain began to 
 clear. Her independent spirit slowly reasserted it- 
 self. She wondered if — 
 
 "How long are you staying here, Mr. Snyder?" 
 she asked, as she found herself leaving the dining- 
 room by his side. 
 
 " Only to-morrow. I 'm leaving for Shanghai on 
 the night boat." 
 
 " Oh, really." Her big eyes turned to his. They 
 were beautiful eyes. And she added, quite deliber- 
 ately, " I 'm sorry we shan't see something of you. 
 Betsey has told me so much about you." 
 
 99 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 She saw the light come into his own black eyes. 
 
 " Well," said he — " there is to-morrow. Could n't 
 we — well, play around together a bit ? " 
 
 " I have nothing to do," said she. 
 
 " Just consider yourself engaged for the day then." 
 His manner was positively enthusiastic. " Do you 
 know, seeing you here just wipes China out. It wipes 
 the Marines out. It 's like home." 
 
 She smiled. " I 'd love to knock around and see the 
 city. I don't get much chance with Uncle and Aunt. 
 But I don't want to keep you from your friend Curly 
 and his new story." 
 
 " Oh, hang Curly ! " cried Charlie Snyder boyishly. 
 And they both laughed. 
 
 " It won't be necessary to hang him." 
 
 " We '11 forget him, then." 
 
 " All right," said Miss Austin, quite steadily, " we '11 
 forget him." 
 
 As soon as they were outside, in the semi-darkness 
 of the big porch, she gave way to the impulse to draw 
 a long, a very long, breath. 
 
 lOO 
 
IV 
 WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 IT was Sunday afternoon at Tientsin. In the little 
 park that is the most perfectly British thing in 
 the British Concession a Sikh band of fifty pieces 
 was playing " The Stars and Stripes Forever." Tour- 
 ists strolled about the gravel paths. Japanese, Hin- 
 doo, and Chinese amahs placidly wheeled the peram- 
 bulators of ruddy British babies. Outside, on the cor- 
 ner, a yellow Shantung policeman, baton under arm, 
 languidly watched the carriages and rickshaws roll by. 
 Within the park, on a bench that was set far back 
 among the shrubbery, sat Edith Austin with a red 
 portfoho on her knee, writing a letter with a fountain- 
 pen. Beside her a tiny Pekingese dog, black with one 
 white ear, was curled in slumber. Tucked away in- 
 side the portfolio was a bag of American chocolates, 
 into which Miss Austin's left hand made occasional 
 Httle forays. Her slim figure was comfortably re- 
 laxed; but her pretty mouth twisted itself uncon- 
 sciously with the strokes of the pen, her brows 
 gathered every now and then into a v-wr inkle just above 
 the straight, rather long nose, and her usually demure 
 hazel eyes were deep with the immense seriousness of 
 
 lOI 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 a philosophy based on more than twenty years of Hv- 
 ing. 
 
 I realize now, Harriet dear, that I can never, never 
 again be the simple, ignorant child I was up to this year. 
 Life has been particularly hard for me, I think. Even 
 with Mother I have to be careful what I say. She 's a 
 dear, but she is n't modern. She just is n't. 
 
 And Aunt and Uncle — now you know, how perfectly 
 bully it was of them to bring me on this glorious jour- 
 ney to the Orient. You 're right — I owe them every- 
 thing for that. 
 
 Miss Austin had been hazily conscious, while she 
 was writing, of some unusual disturbance on the grass 
 plot at her right, where, a few moments earlier, three 
 little Britons had been playing a game with jackknives. 
 Now she looked over there and with an effort col- 
 lected her faculties. 
 
 A young girl of about her own age — a remarkably 
 small and remarkably pretty girl whom she had seen 
 of late about the hotel — came running out from the 
 bushes, closely pursued by a sinister little band of 
 Chinese coolies. Her hat had been nearly torn ofif and 
 one sleeve of her bodice was in shreds. She was 
 deathly pale, and was panting for breath. 
 
 As Edith's startled eyes were taking in the extraor- 
 dinary scene, a good-looking young American hurried 
 to the rescue. But two of the Chinese held the girl, 
 and the others turned on the American and bore him 
 to the ground, beating him savagely. 
 
 1 02 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 Edith wondered if it was a dream. The band, she 
 knew, was still playing; it was "Sweetheart, I love 
 thee only," now, from " The Chocolate Soldier." 
 
 The American lay still — there on the ground. 
 They were leaving him, and were dragging the girl 
 away. Edith sprang up, dropping the portfolio, and 
 ran after them. " Don't do that ! " she found herself 
 shouting. "Help her! Help her!" 
 
 A few steps carried her past a group of trees and 
 shrubs, and there, out of view from her bench, was 
 a large camera on a tripod, and a young fellow beside 
 it smoking a cigarette and turning a crank. By him 
 stood a thin man with a derby hat on the back of his 
 head, grayish hair and big horn spectacles. He was 
 smoking a cigar. And crowding in a semi-circle be- 
 hind these two was a respectful little gathering of 
 tourists, amahs, children, and Chinese. 
 
 Edith stopped short. She looked at the struggling 
 group. The face of the pretty girl was thickly 
 painted. For a moment Edith was too confused to 
 move. She felt the red coming into her cheeks. 
 
 Then the man with the horn spectacles took his 
 cigar from his mouth and waved it. The camera- 
 operator stopped turning the crank. The man on the 
 ground got up and brushed off his clothes. He was 
 painted too. The girl smiled — even through the 
 thick grease-paint her smile was radiant — and nodded 
 toward Miss Austin. " Thanks just as much," she 
 called out in a musical voice. 
 
 Slowly Miss Austin returned to her bench, gathered 
 103 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 up the belongings that had scattered out of her 
 portfolio, and tried to resume the thread of her let- 
 ter. But for all of half an hour she could only munch 
 chocolates and listen to the band. Gradually, how- 
 ever, her composure returned. After a time she even 
 indulged in a faint smile, and gave Wing, the dog, a 
 friendly little pat. Then she wrote on : — 
 
 ... I owe them everything for that. But they could 
 never in the world understand our views, yours and 
 mine. I wouldn't dare tell them. I think it would 
 kill them. 
 
 But I was going to say — You remember the talks 
 we used to have — back before either of us knew the 
 world at all — when we were first reading Candida and 
 Woman and Economics — and we used to wonder how 
 it would seem to really escape from our dreadful sub- 
 urban seclusion and see a bit of this great man's world 
 for ourselves. 
 
 Well, I have seen a bit of it ! 
 
 I 've seen — don't ever whisper a word, dear ! — a 
 prize-fight in a Shanghai opium-den. I was second to 
 one of the fighters. I helped him take off his shirt. 
 And oh, Harriet, it was wonderful ! You 've no idea — 
 the thrill, the humanness of it ! 
 
 And I 've been in a revolt — at Peking — with bombs 
 and looting Manchus and a revolver in my own hand 
 that I almost used — and against a white man! I would 
 have used it, too, if I had n't been rescued — you 
 couldn't guess — by a girl-gambler! 
 
 And I 've been made love to. By a perfect dear of 
 a boy. Sometime when I 'm sure of my sense of humor 
 
 104 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 I '11 tell you about that. The queer thing was that for 
 about twenty minutes I really wanted to fall in love. 
 Can you believe it? I wanted to. Me! 
 
 Then I got sensible all at once. It slipped by like a 
 sneeze that won't come. And after that I was n't even 
 interested. You are n't much interested in sneezes after- 
 ward, you know. 
 
 Miss Austin lingered a moment over this sentence 
 with a pleased smile ; then continued : — 
 
 I 'm almost sorry. It 's rather saddening to learn 
 that you 're not the falling-in-love kind. But I suppose 
 it 's safer. 
 
 Aunt does n't dream. Nor Uncle. They think I 'm 
 just the green little thing I look like. 
 
 Well, Harriet dearest, I 've learned one thing that 
 is invaluable. 
 
 We were right. A girl can go anywhere alone — even 
 here on the China coast. All they used to try to make 
 us believe, that life is full of mysterious hidden dangers, 
 that people are such dreadfully complicated things, is 
 just plain bunk. I '11 admit that I 've been afraid once 
 or twice out here, but that was because I was ignorant. 
 I was always looking for something terrible beyond 
 words to happen. It never did. I can see now that it 
 never will. Why, I have n't even been insulted but once. 
 After this I 'm not going to be afraid of anything. 
 
 Really, Harriet, there 's no particular mystery about 
 life. People are simple . . . 
 
 A shadow fell across the paper. She raised her 
 eyes, and found the moving-picture heroine standing 
 before her. 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 This girl was hardly above five feet tall, and weighed 
 little more than ninety pounds. Even as she stood 
 quietly there, her lithe young body seemed to re- 
 spond uncontrollably to the swinging rhythm of the 
 band ; by some subtle physical suggestion she appeared 
 from second to second on the point of breaking into 
 a bewildering succession of bendings and posings. 
 " She 's the gracefullest thing I ever saw," said Edith 
 to herself. Her skin was fair and fresh ; her hair, un- 
 der the big shade-hat, was really golden; her facile 
 mouth was quivering on the brink of a smile ; her eyes 
 were large, blue, and liquid. 
 
 "Mind if I sit down with you?" asked the 
 girl. 
 
 Edith was conscious of a thrill of pleasure. This 
 adorable little creature, who looked like a child, was 
 really a grown-up actress. She earned her living, in- 
 dependently, in a world of men. She came and went 
 as she chose. She had certainly traveled far ; she had 
 doubtless experienced much. Yet there was not a 
 wrinkle in the fair skin, and the blue eyes were as 
 candid as a baby's. " I 'm right," thought Edith, as 
 she made room on the bench ; " she 's as simple and 
 sweet as if they 'd kept her in a convent." 
 
 " I noticed your dog," said the girl, in a pleasantly 
 casual tone; "and then I liked your looks." 
 
 "That was silly of me — running over there — " 
 began Edith. 
 
 The girl waved the remark carelessly aside. " Oh, 
 that" she said, — " we get used to that. You 're at 
 
 1 06 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 the Astor House too, aren't you?" An ingenuous 
 person, clearly. She chattered along as easily as a 
 child of ten. " I don't know your name." 
 
 Edith told her. 
 
 " Mine 's Connidge — my stage-name, that is. I 'm 
 from Bridgeport, Connecticut. You see — ' idge ' 
 from my city, ' conn ' from my state. I think it 's 
 nice to be patriotic where we can. Don't you? 
 Your first name 's Edith, you say ? I 'm going to call 
 you that, if you don't mind. I always get mixed on 
 last names." 
 
 " I don't mind at all," replied Edith, conscious that 
 she was being swept along rather rapidly. 
 
 " My first name 's Wanda. You are stopping at 
 the Astor House, are n't you ? " 
 
 As Wanda put the question she turned and looked 
 back through the shrubbery toward the big hotel across 
 the street. Built for comfort during the long sum- 
 mers, the front wall of the structure was set back be- 
 hind a tier of broad verandas or galleries that extended 
 the full width of the building and on around the 
 corner. The outside room on each floor opened on 
 the gallery by shuttered doors, long rows of them. 
 Thus it was possible, by using the galleries and the 
 outside stairways connecting them (these latter were 
 around the corner on the end of the building) to go 
 from any one outside room to any other without en- 
 tering the interior corridors of the building. 
 
 " That 's my room," said Edith, " on the third floor, 
 second from the corner — near where that man is 
 
 107 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 walking up and down, the one with the little black 
 moustache." 
 
 Wanda's eyelids drooped for a moment, as if her 
 thoughts had strayed afield. Then, in an impene- 
 trably casual tone, she asked : " Do you know that 
 man ? " 
 
 Edith did not. " Oh, I 've seen him around. And 
 he 's tried to flirt with me." 
 
 Wanda's face assumed a sympathetic expression. 
 " He would do that," she murmured. " He 's a bad 
 actor, if you want my opinion. But then — " she gave 
 a little sigh, — " most of 'em are. And he has nice 
 eyes. He 's the tenor of that English concert-com- 
 pany that 's doing the Coast — the * Purple Mysteries.' 
 You know." 
 
 Edith said she had seen the advertisements. 
 
 " They 're a phony bunch. The press is that they 're 
 big London people that can't afford to have their 
 names known. They play in purple costumes and 
 purple silk masks. We 've been running into 'em all 
 along — at Yokohama, Kobe, Nagasaki, Shanghai." 
 
 The conversation flagged for a little while. The 
 two girls watched the passers-by. Edith remarked 
 occasionally on the music. Wanda invariably replied 
 by a bit of shrewd comment on the appearance of 
 some man that happened to be within view. A note 
 of melancholy crept into the voice of the little actress. 
 
 " Oh, my dear," she observed later, " if you knew 
 what I 've had to endure from men. A girl is so help- 
 less." 
 
 io8 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 Edith looked at her, and was surprised to see that 
 the corners of her mouth were sagging wearily and 
 that there were tears in her eyes. She wondered what 
 disturbing memory had so suddenly depressed that 
 volatile spirit. It seemed hardly possible that there 
 could be any strain of sadness in the life of so lovely 
 and youthful a person. 
 
 Wanda slowly turned her head and met Edith's 
 troubled gaze. She brushed a tear from her cheek. 
 
 " You '11 think I 'm a fool," she murmured. 
 
 Edith shook her head. " Indeed I won't," she re- 
 plied impulsively. " I wish you would tell me what is 
 the matter." And she rested a gentle hand on the 
 girl's sleeve. 
 
 Wanda mused. "I wonder if I could tell you." 
 
 " Please. Were you reminded of something 
 sad?" 
 
 Wanda smiled mournfully. " I never forget it," 
 she replied. " Only you have to keep up most of the 
 time. I guess that 's what makes life so hard. 
 ' Laugh and the world laughs with you,' you know." 
 She fell to musing again. " Tell me, Edith," she re- 
 marked, after a moment, " do you think there 's such 
 a thing in the world as true friendship ? " 
 
 "I'm sure there is!" cried Edith. "Won't you 
 tell me? Perhaps I could help." 
 
 Wanda shrugged her shoulders. " It 's beyond that. 
 Nobody could help me now." Her pathetic eyes again 
 sought Edith's girlish face. " I don't know what on 
 earth to do. You're a dear girl, Edith, but I don't 
 
 109 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 believe you 've had enough experience of life to un- 
 derstand." 
 
 " I 've seen a good deal," said Edith. 
 
 There was so much quiet assurance in her tone that 
 Wanda flashed at her a glance of surprise and inquiry ; 
 then dropped her eyes and remarked: 
 
 " You see, dear, I was married two years ago." 
 
 "Married!" 
 
 The exclamation slipped by Edith's guarding lips. 
 Then, in fear that she had betrayed some inexperience, 
 she hurried on : " You surprised me. You seem so 
 young and inexperienced yourself." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, my dear ! " murmured Wanda. " If 
 you knew all I 've suffered. I — I had to leave 'im. 
 He 's a drunkard. And he beat me." 
 
 "Beat you!" 
 
 " With a razor-strop. I could show you — there 's 
 marks on my back now. He got to bringing other 
 women right into our apartment — made me wait on 
 them. He was — Oh, I can't ! You would n't un- 
 • derstand ! He made me work all the time, 
 rehearsing and playing, and then took my salary 
 away from me — every cent. Not even carfare 
 for me, and I get two hundred a week in New York. 
 Edith, dear, if you knew what men are, and what we 
 women have to endure from 'em ! " 
 
 " I know a little about men," said Edith grimly. 
 
 " Well, twice I tried to kill myself. Once by gas. 
 He came home sober that night, for once, and kicked 
 the door in, and beat me till I fainted. The other 
 
 no 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 time I was just jumping out the window when he 
 caught me — by my nightgown. Just see what he 's 
 brought me to." 
 
 She opened her hand purse; and there, nestUng 
 among three diamond rings and a diamond pendant, a 
 box of Hp carmine and a diminutive powder puff, a 
 crumpled-up handkerchief, some tightly folded bits 
 of paper, cablegrams apparently, a Mexican dollar 
 (value fifty cents) with red paper inscribed in Chinese 
 characters pasted on one side of it, and a little silver 
 change, was a small, rough glass bottle, marked 
 " Poison." 
 
 The pupils of Edith's eyes contracted, and her lips 
 pressed together. But true to her new standing as a 
 woman of experience, she suppressed the exclamation 
 of horror that was struggling to her lips. 
 
 " I ran away from 'im and went to Chicago. I had 
 a dreadful time — no money at all. There was men 
 who would have advanced me some, but of course I 
 could n't take it — not that way." 
 
 " Of course not," murmured Edith. 
 
 " And as I could n't very well go to any other mana- 
 ger until I was free from Will — you see he had al- 
 ways been my manager; Will M. Ryan of the Ryan 
 Amusement Co. — there literly was n't any way I could 
 turn. One week I almost starved. Will sent horrid 
 telegrams. He hired detectives to shadow me. One 
 of 'em told me who he was, and said that if — Oh, 
 you 've no idea what I 've been through ! 
 
 " Then I got a chance to come out here with this 
 III 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 company and do moving-pictures. The money was n't 
 much, of course, but there was the ocean trip, and a 
 chance to see Japan, and I jumped at it. Just came 
 right along, all impetyus as usual, and hopped straight 
 out of the frying pain into the cheerfully glowing 
 coals. That 's me, you know, all over. I don't look 
 into things careful enough. I 'm too intense." 
 
 There was a huskiness in Edith's throat. As she 
 looked at the delicately modeled face imder the big 
 hat, at the soft little mouth and the great childlike 
 blue eyes, she felt that she was being permitted to 
 witness one of life's inexplicable tragedies, that before 
 her was quivering an innocent but tortured soul. She 
 was conscious of a new gravity, almost a solemnity, 
 within herself. 
 
 She managed to ask. " And so you — you 've 
 found more trouble out here ? " 
 
 Wanda pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 " It 's terrible. I don't know how I came to confide 
 in you this way. But I 've got to talk to somebody. 
 It 's either some kind of sympathy and help or — " 
 her voice quivered — " or that little bottle. I 'm in 
 a trap. I don't know what to do." And she took to 
 clasping and unclasping her fingers in her lap. 
 
 "Try to be calm," said Edith gently. "Relax. 
 And tell me quietly. I 'm going to help you if I can." 
 
 Wanda gave her a grateful look, and continued: 
 " We were n't three days out from San Francisco be- 
 fore I found that I had to fight the director of this 
 company." 
 
 112 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 " You don't mean — " breathed Edith. 
 
 Wanda's eyes were brimming again. She nodded. 
 " He was dreadful. I had to keep my stateroom door 
 locised — until Miss La Place came in with me. You 
 must have seen him around here — thin man, with 
 grayish hair. Mr. Hemmingway." 
 
 " And horn spectacles." 
 
 " Yes. Always smoking a cigar." 
 
 "Why—" Edith mused— "I thought he looked 
 very quiet and — " 
 
 " My dear," Wanda interrupted impressively, " the 
 quiet ones are the worst. There was a tenor singer — • 
 he was really only a high baritone — with the Acorn 
 Opera Company — he was the quiet kind that — 
 You 've no idea ! I got worn out fighting him. Some- 
 times I wonder what 's the use." 
 
 " But you must n't feel that way. That is weak- 
 ness. You must keep up the fight — always." 
 
 " I know. But it does wear you out. Specially 
 when you can't see anything ahead. Well, anyway, 
 when we landed at Yokohama I found these cablegrams 
 from Will." She took the folded papers from her 
 purse and spread them out for Edith to read. " While 
 we were in Japan and Shanghai I got a cable every 
 day. Then for two weeks there was nothing. I 
 could n't imagine what it meant. Hemmingway knew 
 something, I 'm sure — he acted so queer. Then two 
 days ago this came." 
 
 She laid the message on Edith's portfolio. " See, 
 it 's from Shanghai. He came clear across the Pacific 
 
 113 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 on a fast Empress boat. He 's half way up the Coast 
 now — be here by Wednesday." 
 
 Edith read the message : — " Leaving here to-night 
 for Tientsin. Am sure everything will be all right 
 when I see you. Will." 
 
 " Are you sure he — your husband — does n't love 
 you?" asked Edith. 
 
 Wanda compressed her lips and shook her head. 
 " No. It is n't real love. Sometimes, when he has n't 
 seen me for a while, I fascinate him." She turned her 
 big, appealing eyes to Edith's. " Why is it, dear, I 
 always seem to attract men — that wrong way ? 
 Can it be my fault ? It 's so disappointing. It hurts 
 so." 
 
 " I 'm sure it 's not your fault, Wanda. You can't 
 help being beautiful." 
 
 Wanda looked pleased for an instant ; then her eyes 
 filled again. " The poor little thing! " thought Edith. 
 " What a bundle of emotions she is. She 's all tem- 
 perament. There ought always to be some one to take 
 care of her. And she 's so sweet and so — so timid." 
 
 Wanda was sobbing now, very softly, and pressing 
 her handkerchief to her nose. " Oh, it 's too dreadful 
 to tell ! " she burst out. " Here I am talking in this 
 matter-of-fact way and — Well, that man tried to get 
 into my room this afternoon — while I was dressing. 
 I 'm akchully not safe there — in my own room. I 
 ran out of the hotel. I came here because it was open 
 and safe and there were people. And you were here. 
 I thought maybe you 'd let me talk. I had to talk 
 
 114 
 

 "Are you sure he — your husband — doesn't love you?' 
 
 "5 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 to somebody. I 'm all alone — and perfickly helpless. 
 Hemmingway is even holding back my salary, just 
 the way Will always did. I don't know what to do. 
 If life has got to be like this I don't want — to — 
 live!" 
 
 Again she fell to sobbing. But after a few mo- 
 ments, with an obvious effort at self-control, she 
 quieted down. Then she wiped her eyes ; deftly, with 
 a quick glance to left and right, applied the diminutive 
 powder-puff to her nose; dropped her hands listlessly 
 to her lap; and gazed, with eyes that seemed to be 
 looking very far, in the direction of the bandstand, 
 with its glitter of silver and brass, its dreamy brown 
 faces, its enormous red turbans. 
 
 Edith, her color slightly heightened, was thinking 
 intently, and toying absently with the silky little dog 
 as she thought. There was a Hamburg-American 
 coaster sailing that night. And there was Harry Pur- 
 nell of the Consular staff, who had been three grades 
 above her in the public school at home. He had been 
 nice and attentive, during her stay here. Well, now 
 was his chance to be nicer. Should she tell Wanda 
 about the need of including Harry in her plans ? No, 
 it would be better to tell Wanda nothing. It was a 
 situation to try the mettle of the cosmopolitan Miss 
 Austin; she must manage it alone. Her money was 
 all, or nearly all, in the form of travelers' checks. 
 These must be converted into gold ; but they distinctly 
 must not be cashed at the Astor House, the only place 
 at which she was known that was open on Son- 
 ne 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 days. . . . Yes, it was quite a little situation. But a 
 calm assurance within her, an assurance that surprised 
 herself, brought a faith that she would be equal to 
 whatever it might prove necessary to do. Here was 
 her chance, perhaps, to save a life — an emotional, 
 adorable little life, that was very near to being lost 
 in the world. 
 
 " Don't you see," Wanda was saying, " there may 
 be dreadful trouble when Will gets here. Suppose 
 he found out about Hemmingway. When he 's drunk 
 you just can't talk to 'im. You can't tell what he 'd 
 do. I 'm horribly afraid. There might even be — 
 shooting." 
 
 " Listen," said Edith, with a quiet sort of determina- 
 tion in her voice ; " I 'm going to bring you right 
 in with me — into my room. Now tell me, if you 
 should run away, is there any place you could go ? " 
 
 Wanda's face brightened. " You 're awfully good, 
 Edith. I was thinking, if I could only get to Shang- 
 hai — the Auckland Amateurs offered me a job when 
 we were at Kobe. They '11 be there next week. That 
 would keep me going until I could make some arrange- 
 ments to get back home." 
 
 "What's the fare?" 
 
 " Well," replied Wanda, more briskly, " of course 
 that 's hopeless. I have n't got three dollars Mex. 
 It costs forty or so gold — and then there's all 
 the extras and something for Shanghai — " 
 
 Edith interrupted her. " Now, Wanda dear, you 're 
 not to be hurt or offended at what I 'm going to say. 
 
 117 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 It 's a crisis, and you must be sensible. I 've got 
 money enough. You can send it to me later on — any 
 time. I could let you have a hundred dollars or more 
 easily, without Aunt or Uncle suspecting a thing." 
 
 But Wanda made no objections. Instead, she cried 
 again. And after a moment she asked in an unsteady 
 voice, from behind her handkerchief: "Is that gold 
 or Mex., dear?" 
 
 " Gold, of course. Now come, Wanda, we must n't 
 be sitting here if I 'm to get you off to-night." 
 
 " To-night ! " repeated Wanda, almost in con- 
 sternation. 
 
 "To-night," smiled Edith. "And you're to put 
 yourself absolutely in my hands." 
 
 " But I can't get three trunks off without Hemming- 
 way knowing." 
 
 " I can," said Edith calmly. 
 
 " But he '11 be watching. And if he misses me, 
 he '11 watch the boat." 
 
 Edith hesitated but a moment. Then she replied: 
 " I '11 guarantee to get you off to-night. Now come." 
 
 As they entered the hotel, Edith observed the tenor 
 with the black moustache sitting alone on the porch 
 over a half-consumed whisky and Tan San. His 
 face was flushed, his eyes were roving and, she thought, 
 a bit wild. He glanced furtively at them. Edith felt 
 Wanda tremble and draw close to her, and she hur- 
 ried her into the building and up the stairs. 
 
 Edith called a boy and sent a hurriedly written chit 
 to Harry Purnell at the Consulate. She and Wanda 
 
 ii8 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 speedily packed the three trunks, then sHpped down 
 the corridor to Edith's room. There Wanda was 
 attired in a neglige of Edith's and left to rest on the 
 couch. 
 
 Edith next wandered down to the lounge on the 
 main floor, and, with a large volume of " Views of 
 Tientsin " on her knee, sat where she could command 
 the porch and front steps through a window and the 
 main hall through a wide door. 
 
 The tenor saw her, and hastily gulping a fresh 
 whisky and Tan San, sauntered with an assumption of 
 carelessness to the door and stared in at her. He 
 wore a soft straw hat pulled down on the side of his 
 head, and carried a light bamboo stick. She watched 
 him, over her book. After a moment he sauntered 
 away and ascended the stairs, cutting vicious circles 
 in the air with his cane. 
 
 " He 's a vain brute," thought Edith. " And it 's 
 just about certain that he wants to annoy Wanda." 
 She deliberately laid down her book and followed. 
 
 Sure enough, he was hovering outside the door of 
 the room Wanda had occupied. At sight of Edith 
 he flushed to an even deeper red, and hurried out to 
 the gallery by the door at the end of the corridor. 
 
 Edith returned to the lounge, and resumed her chair 
 and book. A little time passed. Then the thin figure 
 and the horn spectacles for which she was watching 
 appeared in the hall. She could n't help thinking that 
 the director person looked rather nice. He was the 
 last man she would have picked for a monster. He 
 
 119 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 had strong lines in his 
 face; and a patient expres- 
 sion about the eyes. " So 
 goes life," she thought. 
 " To me that tenor is a 
 horrid thing; but Wanda 
 thinks he has nice eyes. 
 Wanda knows 
 this manager is a 
 brute ; and here 
 I 'm thinking I 
 might like him." 
 
 Mr. Hemming- 
 way moved slowly 
 out to the porch 
 and for a long 
 time stood there 
 looking out at the 
 street and the lit- 
 tle park beyond it. 
 He pushed his 
 hat far back on 
 his head, lighted 
 a cigar, thrust his 
 hands deep into 
 his trousers pock- 
 ets, and placidly 
 studied the tree- 
 tops. Edith, her heart beating a shade faster than 
 normal, watched him over her book. Was he going 
 
 I20 
 
 The tenor sauntered to the door and 
 stared in at her. 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 to spend the rest of 
 the day there? He 
 moved toward a comfort- 
 able wicker arm-chair. 
 Edith's heart sank. 
 
 Mr. Wilberly, Edith's 
 fat uncle, stepped out of 
 a rickshaw, came labori- 
 ously up the steps, 
 and stopped to get 
 his breath and to 
 borrow a light 
 from the moving-- 
 picture director. 
 
 " Nice day," 
 she heard her 
 uncle say. 
 
 "Beautiful," re- 
 plied Mr. Hem- 
 mingway. His 
 voice, like his 
 appearance, was 
 quiet and pleasing. 
 Edith grew inwardly indignant as she thought of for- 
 lorn little Wanda upstairs and of the subtle perfidy of 
 man. 
 
 "Off for a stroll?" inquired Mr. Wilberly. 
 
 " No, I 'm having tea at the Consul General's." 
 
 Mr. Hemmingway sipping tea at the American Con- 
 sulate, while young Mr. Purnell, of the American Con- 
 
 121 
 
 " He 's a vain brute," thought Edith. 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 sulate, was slipping out to aid in outwitting him — ■ 
 here was an amusing situation. The thought of it 
 brought a momentary smile to Edith's pretty face. 
 
 Mr. Wilberly disappeared within the building. 
 
 Very deliberately Mr. Hemmingway descended the 
 steps, called a rickshaw, and rode away, tdith stepped 
 out on the porch and followed the vehicle with her eyes 
 until it disappeared. Then she found the Chinese 
 head porter, slipped a key and a gold sovereign into his 
 impassive hand, and gave him certain very positive in- 
 structions in her best Pidgin English. Five minutes 
 later, standing near the side entrance, she had the 
 pleasure of seeing three trunks carried out and wheeled 
 away. On the two ends of each trunk, where the words 
 " Wanda Connidge, New York," had appeared, there 
 was now a row of Astor House labels, pasted sym- 
 metrically side by side. 
 
 So much accomplished, Edith crossed to the park. 
 There, walking to and fro in a secluded comer, she 
 found Harry Purnell. He had grown rather good- 
 looking since their schooldays ; and his manner, a busi- 
 ness-like briskness tempered by a whimsical, some- 
 times facetious, humor, was not unpleasing, she 
 thought. He wore nose glasses, and carried a heavy 
 cane. He was humming, in a light tenor voice. 
 
 " Very mysterious," he said, as they shook hands, — 
 " very mysterious." 
 
 " It had to be, Harry. You 've got to help me 
 smuggle a poor girl off on the Shanghai boat to-night, 
 and you 're not to ask any questions." 
 
 122 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 " Discretion is my middle name," smiled Harry. 
 " Can do. But you very nearly did n't find me in. 
 And if you ever doubt yourself as a charmer, Edith, 
 it may help some to know that I 'm breaking a previous 
 engagement with a particularly attractive person for 
 this very evening." 
 
 " That was good of you, Harry." 
 
 " No — just weak. Sufficiency. Let 's have your 
 instructions. Chop — chop ! " 
 
 For a little time they walked about the park, Harry 
 listening attentively while Edith explained her needs. 
 They walked around to the Consulate, and Edith 
 waited on the corner while Harry slipped inside. They 
 took a pony-victoria and drove rapidly to the wharf. 
 Here she waited while he boarded the ship. Finally 
 they separated, and Edith hurried back to the hotel 
 and up to her room. 
 
 She tried the door. It was locked. There was no 
 sound within. She tapped softly. She was glad that 
 Wanda had locked the door ; it was a wise precaution. 
 She tapped again. Doubtless the poor child had fallen 
 asleep. She walked to the end of the corridor and 
 back, considering whether to waken her. She lin- 
 gered a moment at the door, then knocked more loudly 
 — with her knuckles this time. Still there was no 
 response. She felt a bit worried ; there was no telling 
 what the child might do. 
 
 She was turning irresolutely away when the sound 
 came to her ears of a door closing, within the room. 
 It must have been the gallery-entrance, as the room 
 
 123 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 had but the two doors. She heard light feet crossing 
 the room; then the key turned, and Wanda opened to 
 her. 
 
 The Httle actress had found a lacy boudoir-cap of 
 Edith's, which, with the thick yellow braids hanging 
 down her back almost to her knees, her high color, 
 nervous smile, and a peculiar sparkle and glow in the 
 expressive eyes, gave her something the appearance of 
 an excited little fairy. For a moment Edith gazed at 
 her in a sort of admiring dismay. Was it right to pack 
 off this alarmingly beautiful little girl on a four-day 
 journey, alone, and to such a destination as Shanghai? 
 Yet, to leave her here to be quarreled over by a violent 
 husband and an imscrupulous manager . . . 
 
 Edith took her hand and led her to the couch. 
 " You lie down and rest," she commanded. 
 
 " I can't," said Wanda, " I get so nervous, Edith 
 dear. The room seemed stuffy. I had to step out on 
 the gallery for a breath of air." 
 
 " That was unwise," Edith replied. She felt very 
 old and experienced and responsible. " There is n't 
 much use in hiding you, you know, if you 're going to 
 get excited and show yourself the first thing." 
 
 " I suppose that 's so," murmured the actress. 
 " But I don't think anybody saw me. I was careful." 
 
 " You 've got to be just that," rephed Edith ma- 
 ternally. " Until midnight you 're not to stir out of 
 this room. I 'm not even going to risk sending din- 
 ner up. Here is a cake of chocolate ; and you '11 find 
 some tea biscuit on the closet shelf." 
 
 124 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 Wanda seemed not at all disturbed over the prospect 
 of missing her dinner. She merely smiled. 
 
 " Now, dear," Edith continued, " please put this 
 money in your purse. I don't want to carry so much 
 about with me. Two — three — five — eight — 
 twelve — thirteen — fifteen pounds. That 's about 
 seventy-five dollars, is n't it. I figure that you 'd bet- 
 ter have at least that much. The extras mount up, 
 you know; and then there may be some delay at 
 Shanghai. And here 's your ticket. Your name, for 
 the present, is Miss Robinson." 
 
 The tears again came rushing to Wanda's eyes. 
 She took Edith's hand in both of her own, and kissed 
 it. " You 're very, very good tO' me, Edith dear," 
 she murmured brokenly. 
 
 " Now you behave," was all Edith could manage by 
 way of reply. 
 
 Wanda dropped the gold coins into her purse, one 
 by one. And each coin, as it fell, clinked softly 
 against the bottle of poison. Then she said : " You 
 must be sure and tell me just how much you spend, 
 dear. So I '11 know." 
 
 Edith smiled, patted the soft cheek, and left 
 her. 
 
 She went down stairs, and out to the porch, looking 
 about for her aunt and uncle. Just outside the door 
 she encountered the tenor, who was hurrying around 
 the comer of the building, his face working nervously, 
 switching his little cane against the chairs and tables 
 as he passed them. At sight of her he stopped short, 
 
 125 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 stared for an instant (very rudely, she thought) then 
 turned and hurried back around the corner. 
 
 Edith gazed after him, thoughtfully. Whatever tin- 
 known terrors might be lying in wait for lovely little 
 Wanda at Shanghai or on the remainder of the long, 
 hard journey home, it would certainly be a relief to get 
 her safely out of Tientsin. 
 
 That evening, at dinner, Mr. Wilberly said un- 
 expectedly : 
 
 " Oh, say, Edith, Hemmingway, the moving picture 
 man, wanted me to ask if you 've seen anything of 
 his Miss Connidge in the past few hours." 
 
 For a moment Edith's pulse stopped. 
 
 " He saw her talking to you earlier in the after- 
 noon. I told him you 'd hardly know. It seems she 
 has disappeared completely. He got a key from the 
 management, entered her room, and found her trunks 
 gone. Funny thing." 
 
 Just then the Chinese waiter drew Mr. Wilberly's 
 attention to the menu; and that gentleman hunted 
 about his waistcoat for his nose-glasses, put them on, 
 and gave his attention undividedly to the important 
 matter of the next course. 
 
 Edith controlled the impulse to draw a long breath. 
 Instead she nibbled a bread stick and looked out about 
 the big dining-room with a face that was inscrutably 
 demure. 
 
 At one o'clock that night, except for an occasional 
 hilarious sound from the bar-room, the big hotel was 
 
 126 
 
' Why, you — you know each other ! " exclaimed Miss Austin 
 
 127 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 still. Lights were out in the lounge. Porch chairs 
 were piled on porch tables. And on the corner a Chili 
 policeman, arms folded, motionless, leaned against a 
 tree. 
 
 Two slim figures in long raincoats, each carrying a 
 handbag, came tiptoeing out of a room on the third 
 floor, walked softly along the veranda, turned the cor- 
 ner and descended two flights of stairs. Walking 
 more rapidly they came around the hotel into Victoria 
 Road and headed north. 
 
 On the next corner, in the shadow of the trees, a 
 young man awaited them. He stepped forward as 
 they approached, and took the bags from them. But 
 instead of moving on with them he stood motionless 
 and peered under the big hat that crowned the smaller 
 of the two figures. 
 
 " Oh," he said, in what was evidently genuine sur- 
 prise, " how do you do ! " 
 
 " Why, you — you know each other ! " exclaimed 
 Miss Austin. 
 
 But without speaking further, Harry Purnell briskly 
 led the way up Victoria Road to a corner some two 
 blocks above the steamer-wharf, then turned off to the 
 bank of the very narrow, very sluggish little river that 
 is known as the Pei Ho. The girls followed. 
 
 A sampan, manned by two native boatmen, awaited 
 them. Harry tossed the baggage aboard, and handed 
 the two girls in after it. 
 
 The boat drifted out into the current. Wanda 
 curled up in the bow, silent and pensive. Harry gave 
 
 128 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 all his attention to guiding their httle craft. And 
 Edith looked from one to the other, wondering a lit- 
 tle. 
 
 There was no moon. A little way below them the 
 black bulk of the ship, held out nearly in mid-channel 
 by fenders, loomed big and mysterious. In the absurd 
 little river and from their lowly point of observation, 
 the small coasting steamer appeared as huge as a trans- 
 atlantic liner. High above the shadowy hull lights 
 were blazing. A belated passenger, very drunk, as 
 is not unnatural on the Coast after midnight, was reel- 
 ing up the long gangplank above the water, followed 
 by a line of porters with baggage. 
 
 The sampan drifted down on the farther side of the 
 ship, out of sight from the wharf. Wanda was hum- 
 ming a gay little tune. 
 
 They scraped softly along the plates of the hull, that 
 towered above them Hke a wall. Well aft, two-thirds 
 of the way to the stern, a rope was flapping gently. 
 Harry caught it. A head peered out of an opening 
 just above them. Then a rope ladder was lowered. 
 
 Harry climbed up with the bags; then returned for 
 Wanda. The actress threw her arms around Edith's 
 neck, and kissed her. Edith could see that her eyes 
 were shining and that she was smiling dreamily. 
 
 As she placed a dainty foot on the lowest rung of 
 the ladder, Wanda giggled outright in sheer delight at 
 the romantic quality of her flight. Then Harry picked 
 up her slight body in his arm and carried her up, dis- 
 appearing with her within the ship. After a moment 
 
 129 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 he reappeared, dropped down into the sampan, and 
 pushed off. 
 
 They were back on firm earth before he spoke. 
 Then he said, with some evidence of feeling: " Edith, 
 I wonder if you know what you 've been mixing in ? " 
 
 " What do you mean, Harry ? " 
 
 " I wonder if you know what that girl is up to." 
 
 Edith was tired; and Harry's tone disturbed her. 
 " I know this," she broke out almost hotly, " if I 
 hadn't helped her get away to-night she would have 
 been in terrible trouble here. I 'm not sure that I 
 have n't saved her life, even." 
 
 " Oh," murmured Harry, with a touch of mystifica- 
 tion in his voice. And for a little way he walked 
 without speaking, looking straight ahead. 
 
 When they had nearly reached the hotel, he asked: 
 " Did you give her any money, Edith ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, if you must know — I did." 
 
 " Mm," said he, noncommittally. 
 
 At the hotel steps, she turned and faced him. 
 
 " Now listen, Harry," she said ; " you and Wanda 
 Connidge have met before." 
 
 " Oh," he replied, " is her name Wanda Connidge ? " 
 
 Miss Austin stamped her foot. 
 
 " Really," said he, almost cheerfully. " We have 
 met before, but I did n't know her name." 
 
 "Well, how ^?" 
 
 " Look here, Edith, you 've knocked about some, 
 you 've seen a bit of life. I guess perhaps you 've got 
 sense enough to understand." 
 
 130 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 " What are you trying to say, Harry ? " 
 
 " Well — mostly we lie to girls, you know. This 
 is a compliment, Edith, I 'm paying you. I 'm going 
 to tell you the truth. I met that girl on the street just 
 this morning. Flirt -pidgin — like two infants. We 
 took a walk. We were silly, of course — talked high 
 and mighty, music and stuff. My engagement for to- 
 night was with her. That 's — well, that 's all." 
 
 Edith was puzzled. " No, that is n't quite all," she 
 said. " What made you say what you did at the land- 
 ing. Did you see anything on the steamer? " 
 
 Harry prepared to beat a retreat. " It 's late, Edith. 
 ' No can keep awake my side.' And you 're tired out. 
 I 've told you all I know. All I know," he repeated, 
 with an odd emphasis. Then he said good-night, and 
 left her. 
 
 After a late breakfast, on the following morning, 
 Edith wandered into the lounge. 
 
 There, over the backs of two armchairs that stood 
 side by side at a window, she saw the tops of two 
 heads. The round, bald one was the head of Mr. 
 Wilberly. The other was covered with grayish hair. 
 She moved a little to one side and, as she expected, 
 caught a glimpse of a horn spectacle-bow beneath it. 
 
 The two men were talking, in the off-hand manner 
 that men affect. Edith stood by the table, behind 
 them, and picked up a post-card that was labeled, 
 " View on Taku Road, Tientsin." 
 
 " Speaking as a business man " — it was Mr. Wil- 
 
 131 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 berly who was speaking thus — " I don't see how you 
 handle these crazy actresses at all. I 'd be inclined to 
 bring 'em up with a round turn if they tried any of 
 their ' temperament ' on me." 
 
 " It would n't work," replied Mr. Hemmingway 
 quietly. " It has n't worked in this case. I 've ex- 
 ceeded all legal bounds, as it is, trying to keep that 
 girl here. If it was anywhere but the China Coast, 
 where there 's precious little law at best, I could n't 
 have done anything like what I have. But I cabled 
 Bill Ryan that I 'd hold her until he could get here. 
 You see, I had promised him that if he 'd bring out 
 Elsie Baker, from our Chicago company, he could take 
 Wanda back. Now here he is, tearing up the Yellow 
 Sea with Miss Baker, as per agreement, and I 've got 
 no Wanda. I 've fallen down. And I watched that 
 boat myself last night until she sailed, at two." 
 
 " Do you know she was aboard? " 
 
 " Certainly. After they 'd cast ofif, the little devil 
 waved at me from the deck. She was with that fool 
 tenor of the ' Purple Mysteries.' He had his arm 
 around her." 
 
 Edith's body seemed to freeze as she stood motion- 
 less there. She was staring at that " View on Taku 
 Road, Tientsin " ; and the view was upside down. 
 The blood rushed out of her face; and then, as swiftly, 
 rushed back until her fair skin was suffused with 
 color. 
 
 Gradually she became conscious that Mr. Hemming- 
 way was still speaking : 
 
 132 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 " Rather an interesting case, by the way, for the 
 psycho-pathologists. That girl has run away with five 
 different men, to my own knowledge; and every one 
 of them was a tenor singer. Even including Bill him- 
 self — he used to be a light opera tenor. It 's a mania, 
 apparently ; always a runaway, and always a tenor. 
 Can you beat it? " 
 
 " And I 've got no Wanda. I 've fallen down.' 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " People are queer," observed Mr. Wilberly, sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 " They certainly are. People are some queer ! I 
 knew one other case like this — a middle-aged man 
 who had a mania for falling in love with star actresses. 
 No matter how beautiful she might be, she had to be 
 an actress and a star — with her name on the bill- 
 boards. . . . Well, there 's two things I would cer- 
 tainly like to know : how she got on that boat, and who 
 put up the money. Wilson, the Mysteries' manager, 
 tells me that the tenor didn't have twenty cents. 
 Why, they have n't paid salaries for five weeks. And 
 that guy has n't brains enough to swindle anybody. 
 No, it was our little Wanda that got into some sym- 
 pathetic spirit. I wish I knew who." 
 
 " It 's probably a good thing, after all," said Mr. 
 Wilberly sagely. 
 
 "What is?" 
 
 " That she made her getaway. If she and her tenor 
 were here when the husband walks in there 'd likely 
 as not be trouble. I know how these cases go." 
 
 "Trouble? What kind of trouble? " 
 
 " Oh, row. Punch his face. Shoot, maybe." 
 
 The director sniffed. "Not a bit of it. Bill 
 Ryan 's the best-hearted fellow in the world. Could n't 
 hurt a fly." 
 
 " But the tenor. He 's the crazy kind, you say — " 
 
 " Tenors don't shoot people," grunted Mr. Hem- 
 mingway. 
 
 134 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 Edith, her head a chaos of emotions and thoughts, 
 quietly made her way out of the room and across to 
 the park, where, though there might be disturbing 
 memories, there was air. 
 
 After dinner that evening Edith became aware that 
 Mr. Hemmingway was trying to catch her eye. 
 Finally he encountered her at a moment when her 
 aunt and uncle had gone into the ofifice to look at a 
 new lot of painted snuff-bottles, and asked if she would 
 step out to the porch for a moment. He was so grave 
 and kindly in manner that she did not see how to re- 
 fuse. 
 
 He led her to a corner behind a group of potted 
 palms, and drew a paper from his pocket. He looked 
 puzzled, she thought. 
 
 "I — I 've received a wireless from Wanda Con- 
 nidge," he said. " She instructs me to pay you twenty- 
 six pounds, four shillings and eight pence out of her 
 salary. Here it is." He produced a heavy little can- 
 vas bag. Then he cleared his throat. 
 
 " If you don't mind my asking," he .went on, push- 
 ing his hat back and running his long fingers into his 
 hair, " is that the right amount? Is that just what she 
 owed you?" 
 
 Edith did a little mental arithmetic, then nodded. 
 " Yes," she said — " it is. Exactly. She has even 
 paid for the chocolate ! " 
 
 Mr. Hemmingway sighed, and made a gesture of 
 135 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 despair. " That 's the queerest of all," he said. 
 " That kid has kept me guessing from the start. Last 
 week I began to think I had her number. I knew she 
 was a born actress. I knew she was a quick thinker, 
 and — yes — a temperamental little liar. And yet, 
 here she turns out to be scrupulous with money, down 
 to the last cent. Comes pretty close to what we some- 
 times call honor, does n't it ! . . . Well, it beats me. 
 I guess the fact is, we don't really know anybody — 
 ever." He smiled, rather shyly, she thought, and 
 added : " I thought you would probably want me to 
 consider it confidential." 
 
 She could have hugged him for that. Instead she 
 returned his smile unflinchingly, and said : " Thank 
 you very much, Mr. Hemmingway ; " and, concealing 
 the bag in her hand, ran lightly upstairs to her room. 
 
 The money she placed in the top drawer of her bu- 
 reau. In this same drawer was her red portfolio: 
 Smiling a little, and blushing, she drew it out, opened 
 it, and deliberately read her unfinished letter to Har- 
 riet, read it through to the end — " Really, Harriet, 
 there 's no particular mystery about life. People are 
 simple . . ." 
 
 Several times she read these concluding words; 
 stood there reading them until the blush, and the smile, 
 had slowly left her face. Then she brought Wing 
 from his basket by the window, drew a big chair to the 
 light, curled up in it, sitting comfortably on her foot, 
 and very soberly wrote a letter that began as follows : 
 
 136 
 
WANDA OF THE MYSTERIES 
 
 Dear Harriet: 
 
 We 've been at Tientsin quite a while now, and I must 
 say it is nothing like so interesting as Peking. It is 
 more like a European city, you know. There are shops 
 of course, when you know where to look for them; and 
 they have some nice things. 1 bought a beautiful Man- 
 darin coat- — an old red one. And then there is very 
 nice raw silk lace that the Chinese girls make in the 
 French Convent. It is astonishingly cheap. I picked 
 up a lot of it, it goes so wonderfully with the piece of 
 natural Assam silk that Aunt got at Shanghai to make 
 me a dress out of. And I may get some Satsuma but- 
 tons — blue and tan — to go with it. What do you 
 think? . . . 
 
 137 
 
V 
 BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 HUMAN nature is pretty much the same the world 
 over," observed Mr. Wilberly; then paused to 
 clip and light a cigar that was fat, like himself. 
 " Here 's Pao Ting Fang now " — he lowered his voice 
 — " living here at the hotel as the principal negotiator 
 on the Chinese side of the new government loan. He 
 knows all there is to know about Oriental diplomacy 
 and international finance. Big man. But look at his 
 fingers ! " 
 
 Miss Austin was examining a faded old Mandarin 
 coat that was richly embroidered in lavender, green 
 and gold. A Chinese merchant, one of those privi- 
 leged to spread his wares in the main hall of the big 
 Peking hotel, hovered anxiously at her elbow. It was 
 after dinner; and the corridors were crowded with 
 tourists, officers, and diplomats. Several members of 
 the Six Power Group of bankers, with their families, 
 were over by the door watching the thin old conjuror 
 produce very small bowls of goldfish from his ample 
 robe. 
 
 Miss Austin looked up, an expression of mild in- 
 terest in her demure hazel eyes. She rarely listened 
 
 138 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 to her uncle. His conversation, apart from the topics 
 of business and food, was usually given to platitudes. 
 Miss Austin did not care for platitudes. 
 
 " What about his fingers ? " she asked. 
 
 " They 're all twisted up. He played third base — 
 three years — on the Yale Varsity. That was twenty 
 years ago. Told me just now that every week he 
 reads the pink sporting-section in that new Shanghai 
 paper. Says he 'd like the job of Chinese Minister at 
 Washington just so he could see Walter Johnson pitch. 
 I tell you, folks are pretty much alike, the world over, 
 when all 's said and done." 
 
 " And he was one of the best infielders Yale ever 
 had." The new speaker w^s Mr. Henry Carpenter, 
 a tall man, with a lean face and thoughtful blue eyes 
 that had a way of looking at you rather directly. 
 
 Miss Austin glanced up at him. She rather liked 
 having Mr. Carpenter around because he was always 
 doing considerate little things for people ; but she never 
 made much effort to talk with him. He was too old 
 — well past thirty — the settled-down sort of bach- 
 elor that knows his place and stays in it. Her eyes 
 strayed to the great Mandarin, who was holding a sort 
 of informal after-dinner reception near the manager's 
 desk. 
 
 She saw a big, squarely built, dominant figure, 
 backed by a crowded little semicircle of some twelve 
 or fifteen lesser Mandarins, not one of whom ranked 
 lower than the white button and three of whom wore 
 the coral. On the well-poised head of Pao Ting Fang 
 
 139 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 himself was the cap of office, with wide brim turned 
 up all around — " Like a saucepan," thought Edith — 
 a tassel of red silk spreading over the crown, a pea- 
 cock feather slanting down over his shoulder, and 
 above the crown a big round ruby set high on a base 
 of worked gold. His robe was of brown silk, severely 
 plain except for the large square on his breast within 
 which was embroidered a crane, emblem of the highest 
 civil rank. 
 
 But if the costume was Oriental, the face, with its 
 strong, almost ascetic outline and its quiet eyes behind 
 round, gold-rimmed spectacles, with wide, firm mouth, 
 nose with plenty of bone in it, and broad forehead, 
 might have been, except for the yellowish tinge of the 
 skin and the barely perceptible slant of the eyes, from 
 anywhere in the world. Miss Austin knew, as she 
 studied it, that it was the strongest and finest face in 
 the crowded hall. " I could talk with that man," she 
 was thinking, " and be understood." 
 
 While she looked on at the little scene, a Mr. Hansel, 
 one of the American bankers, stepped up and shook 
 hands with the Mandarin, then turned and spoke to 
 his son, who was standing a little apart. 
 
 A thin, blond youth was Teddy Hansel, with jumpy 
 nerves, and eyes a little brighter than normal. He 
 wore a dinner jacket, gray striped waistcoat and tie, 
 and pleated soft shirt of a rather extreme fashion He 
 was looking up expectantly, and holding a cigarette 
 carelessly between brown-stained fingers, a cigarette 
 that had his monogram stamped on the paper. 
 
 140 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 At his father's signal, young Hansel winked at Miss 
 Austin, and stepped forward, at the same time casually 
 tossing his cigarette into a pile of embroidered squares 
 by the wall. A Chinese merchant hastily beat out the 
 spark of fire, and looked up muttering feelings that he 
 must not speak aloud. 
 
 Miss Austin turned back to the lavender Mandarin 
 coat, smiled a very little, and shook her head. Teddy 
 Hansel was easily the most harum-scarum youth she 
 had ever known. She had come to be fond of him, in 
 a way. He had an amusing aptitude at chattering in 
 Pidgin English ; and spent money with distress- 
 ing abandon. You felt that you must look out for 
 him. 
 
 For a moment she went on examining the embroid- 
 ery; then curious to know what a Chinese Mandarin 
 of Peking and Yale could have to say to the amiably 
 irresponsible Teddy, she followed her uncle and Mr. 
 Carpenter, who were moving nearer to the group of 
 dignitaries. 
 
 " After all," she heard Teddy say, with engaging 
 enthusiasm, " there never was anybody with the class 
 of Ty Cobb on the bases." 
 
 " I suppose not," replied the Mandarin. His voice 
 was deep and rich ; his English was perfect. " I hope 
 that I may be permitted to see him before he — how 
 do we say it? — slows up." 
 
 And he turned, with marked graciousness of man- 
 ner, toward the Wilberlys, leaving Teddy to stare at 
 him with a grin of frank bewilderment. 
 
 141 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Miss Austin found herself taking the Mandarin's 
 knotted hand and returning his smile. 
 
 " I regret that you are not seeing China in a quieter 
 time," he was saying. " We have much to show the 
 intelligent tourist." 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed," murmured Edith, " I adore 
 China. It is perfectly fascinating." 
 
 "You find it so? I am glad." The slanting eyes 
 smiled through the round spectacles. " I have always 
 admired the young ladies of America. Your freedom, 
 your self-control, your hearty outdoor life — these our 
 girls must learn from you. That, I sometimes think, 
 is the greatest task before us, training our Chinese 
 women into a new philosophy of life. At present it 
 is difficult. We are only just beginning to give them 
 feet so that they may walk. But you are young, Miss 
 Austin. Before you die you will see great changes in 
 China, great changes. Good-night. Good-night, all." 
 
 He walked slowly away down the corridor, followed 
 by his Mandarins, and disappeared behind the black- 
 and-gold screen that closed off, for the use of himself 
 and his entourage, the extreme southern end of the 
 ground floor. 
 
 Edith was conscious of a deep stir of interest as she 
 turned away. It was as she had thought, this China- 
 man was a cosmopolitan gentleman. He understood. 
 He was a man you could trust. . . . And yet, he was 
 a Chinaman. His imposing establishment, ofif there 
 behind the screen where he had settled after the burn- 
 ing of his yamen in the riots of March, was a Chinese 
 
 142 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 establishment. Teddy maintained that there were 
 numerous wives and concubines behind that screen. 
 Teddy liked to talk about those wives and concubines ; 
 he seemed to think it smart. And something had been 
 said about a beautiful daughter of His Excellency by 
 the first wife, a dainty little person who had been 
 glimpsed by one or two inquisitive Americans, 
 and whom Teddy had already dubbed, " The Prin- 
 cess." 
 
 Miss Austin dismissed the puzzle from her mind, 
 and turned toward her own group. But Mr. Wilberly 
 was talking. And Mr. Carpenter was a bit old. She 
 hesitated, then moved over toward the conjuror. 
 
 There was a crackle and flash at her elbow. It 
 was Teddy Hansel, lighting a cigarette. She smiled, 
 but shook her head disapprovingly. 
 
 " How many is that to-day ? " she asked. 
 
 He rolled a whiff of smoke around his tongue; then, 
 with a slow inhalation, drew it deep into his lungs, and 
 grinned mischievously at her. She held her breath 
 until the smoke came curling slowly from his nostrils ; 
 then shook her head again. 
 
 " You promised you 'd keep count," she said. 
 
 " Oh, maskee that, Edith ! " he replied lightly. 
 " You talk all same missionary-brother. What 's do- 
 ing this evening? " 
 
 Miss Austin shrugged her pretty shoulders. He 
 looked at her with admiring eyes. She was wearing 
 a dinner gown of pale yellow silk with a gold band 
 about her fluffy brown hair. 
 
 143 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " You 're looking great to-night, Edith," he added, 
 in a lower tone. 
 
 She chose to ignore this remark and answer his 
 question. " Nothing," she said. " Aunt thought she 
 would go to bed early. And Uncle has to talk busi- 
 ness with that Mr. Blumstein from Shanghai." 
 
 " And what 's Mr. Carpenter doing? " he asked, with 
 a touch of unmistakable jealousy. 
 
 " I have n't the remotest idea." She turned her 
 clear hazel eyes directly to his slightly bloodshot ones. 
 " You 're very amusing, Teddy — sometimes." 
 
 He looked doubtful, but relieved. " Then let 's start 
 something. Mind if I buzz around, buzz around? " 
 
 Edith did n't mind. 
 
 " What side then ? Walk on the Tartar Wall ? Go 
 look-see movies? I'm bored to death here." 
 
 " I should n't mind the movies," said Miss Austin. 
 
 " Can do! You go catchee hat and coat." 
 
 " You '11 have to give me time to change, Teddy. I 
 can't tramp around in this gown." 
 
 " Well, — chop-chop then." 
 
 Edith never went to her room, these days, without 
 a stir and flutter of romantic interest; for just beyond 
 it stood the black-and-gold screen that did not quite 
 shut ofif the southern end of the corridor from curious 
 Western eyes. Standing by her own door and inclin- 
 ing her head close to the wall she could sometimes see 
 Chinese soldiers of the guard lounging and soft-footed 
 servants moving about. During the reception hours in 
 
 144 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 the afternoons numbers of the familiar attendant Man- 
 darins were usually grouped at the extreme end of the 
 passage, outside what was evidently the large corner 
 room. This, she had surmised, was the office or recep- 
 tion-room of His Excellency. Old women, with tiny, 
 crippled feet, frequently hobbled about. 
 
 Teddy Hansel's room was next to her own, one re- 
 move further from the screen. Her aunt and uncle 
 were lodged across the corridor. 
 
 Edith paused at her door and looked around the 
 screen. Evidently the great Mandarin and his attend- 
 ants had retired for the evening. The soldiers and the 
 serving-women were not in evidence. At first she 
 thought the corridor deserted; then, off at the farther 
 end, where the light was dim, she made out the figure 
 of a young Chinese woman or girl, sitting back on her 
 heels before an arm-chair of carved blackwood. 
 
 The girl was cooing and humming in a soft, musical 
 voice that rippled, at the moment, into suppressed 
 laughter. She would lean forward and with merry 
 little exclamations play with something that was hid- 
 den by the high; solid arm of the chair; then would 
 lean back, cover her face with her hands, and peep mis- 
 chievously through her, fingers, while her silk-clad 
 shoulders shook and her daintily poised head bobbed 
 with delight. 
 
 Miss Austin heard a step and turned. Teddy Han- 
 sel was approaching his own door. Impulsively she 
 beckoned to him, at the same time laying a finger on 
 
 145 
 
THE CHARMED LH^^E OE MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Oh, say — Pretty ! Pretty ! " muttered Teddy Hansel. 
 
 her lips. He tiptoed to her side with exaggerated cau- 
 tion. 
 
 " Say," he whispered. " It 's the Princess herself ! " 
 
 Edith nodded. 
 
 While they stood there, leaning close to the edge of 
 the screen, the girl pounced forward, fumbled a mo- 
 
 146 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 ment with the ob- 
 ject on the chair, 
 then raised aloft 
 — laughing that 
 soft, rippling 
 
 laugh — a Chinese 
 baby. She cud- 
 dled it against her 
 neck. She bent 
 her head close to 
 it and cooed play- 
 ful little mes- 
 sages. She pir- 
 ouetted, with ex- 
 quisite ease of 
 movement, along 
 the corridor to- 
 ward the screen. 
 Plainly her feet 
 had never been 
 bound. 
 
 " Oh, say — 
 Pretty! Pretty!" 
 muttered Teddy 
 Hansel. 
 
 Miss Austin 
 drew back. She 
 suddenly felt uncomfortable. It was something in 
 Teddy's voice, in his manner, in the odd way he held 
 his breath after the one muttered exclamation and then 
 
 147 
 
 The girl was wheeling and dancing slow 
 ly, dandling and cuddling the queer lit 
 tie baby. 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 bent rigidly forward, staring. She knew, or felt, that 
 what had so suddenly attracted him was not the charm 
 and beauty of the scene — a moment before it had 
 been merely a quaint oriental spectacle — but a subtle 
 lure in the movements of the girl. 
 
 Edith wished she had not beckoned to him. She 
 stirred restlessly, and made a move to unlock her door, 
 but Teddy was motionless. She looked again down the 
 corridor. The girl was still wheeling and dancing 
 slowly along, dandling and cuddling the queer little 
 baby, cooing and chuckling with careless, instinctive 
 enjoyment of the morsel of a human plaything in her 
 arms. Her fan dropped unheeded to the floor. 
 Plainly she herself was a girl, and not a mother; a 
 grown girl in whom a doll or a baby has the power to 
 stir deep and unaccountable thoughts. 
 
 " She 's not a minute over fifteen," thought Edith, 
 with increasing discomfort. There was something in 
 the little scene, something deeply intimate, that Teddy 
 should not have witnessed. It was beautiful; but 
 Teddy did not know that it was beautiful — in that 
 way. Edith glanced at him. She had thought of him 
 as a chum who happened to be an irresponsible boy. 
 Now she suddenly saw him a long way off, on the 
 other side of a gulf that it was vaguely distressing even 
 to think of. 
 
 An old woman, with stumps of feet, hobbled out 
 from a doorway and took the baby. The girl went 
 back alone to look for her fan. 
 
 148 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 " Come," said Miss Austin to the motionless Teddy, 
 " let 's get started." 
 
 He slowly straightened up, but neither answered nor 
 turned his eyes. 
 
 The girl, however, heard the voice. She started, 
 swung around, and for an instant looked directly at 
 them. Then, nervously, almost wildly, her big, slant- 
 ing eyes darted this way and that for means of escape. 
 A door stood open. She scurried toward it, and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Teddy stepped back and drew a long breath. His eyes 
 evaded hers. Apparently he was searching for some 
 casual remark that did not come readily to his tongue. 
 
 "Going to change your clothes, aren't you?" he 
 finally managed to say. " Guess I '11 do the same. 
 This rig 's no good to knock around in." And he 
 went abruptly to his own room. 
 
 Miss Austin slipped her key into the lock and slowly 
 turned it. She opened the door a little way, then hesi- 
 tated and glanced back there around the screen. 
 
 The girl was peeping out from her doorway, with 
 frightened, fascinating gaze. 
 
 Their eyes met. Edith smiled. The girl took a 
 timid step toward her — then another. As she ad- 
 vanced her courage seemed to rise. Slowly, a hesi- 
 tating step at a time, nervous as a bird, she came on 
 clear to the screen and looked out around it, so near 
 that Edith could almost have reached out and touched 
 her painted face. 
 
 149 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 It was a small, perfectly oval face. The rouge on 
 her cheeks hid whatever color may have been beneath 
 it ; but through the white powder on her forehead and 
 temples a pink flush was struggling to make itself seen. 
 Her carmine lips were parted in a shy, excited smile. 
 She was breathing rapidly. In her eyes were dancing 
 points of light. 
 
 Edith smiled again; and an expression that ranged 
 from fear to a wild delight came into the oval face. 
 Edith opened her door, with a Httle gesture of invita- 
 tion. The girl's eyelids drooped, and she appeared to 
 hesitate. She took one timid step into the narrow 
 opening between the screen and the wall. 
 
 At this full view of her in the light, Edith drew in 
 a quick breath of surprise and pleasure. Her Chinese 
 woman's coat and trousers were of a wonderful pea- 
 cock blue. The material appeared to be a sort of silk 
 crepe. The costume was severely plain except for a 
 circle of exquisitely embroidered flying birds and pale 
 pink blossoms around the collar and similar circles 
 around the cuff of each sleeve. Her little silk slippers, 
 too, peeping out from beneath the loose-hanging trous- 
 ers, were embroidered with birds and pink blossoms. 
 Her jet-black hair was built into an elaborately simple 
 coiffure that ended in waves on her forehead and swept 
 down over all but the tip of each ear in a long, glossy 
 curve. From the ears hung translucent circles of sea- 
 green jade enclosed in circlets of beaded gold. And 
 on the slim fingers that gripped the edge of the screen 
 were two rings, — one an oblong of jade set in a rim 
 
 150 
 
She took one timid step. 
 
 151 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 of gold dragons, the other a trick- or love-ring of soft 
 gold worked into the semblance of clasped hands. 
 
 Suddenly the girl's courage failed. She slipped back 
 behind the screen and giggled softly. 
 
 Edith, as she entered her own room, reflected on the 
 shut-in life of a high-bred Chinese girl to whom the 
 merest glimpse of the great free outside world of men 
 and women, of travel and recreation and love, brings 
 such a strange, wild intoxication. What an experience 
 it must be for this little person to spend these weeks 
 in the big foreign hotel ! Her father had spoken with' 
 feeling when he said, " Your freedom, your self-con- 
 trol, your hearty outdoor life — these our girls must 
 learn from you." 
 
 Miss Austin's room was lofty and dim, with thick 
 walls through which no ordinary conversation could 
 penetrate; and it opened through wide folding-doors 
 into a sun-parlor that looked out on the courtyard of 
 the hotel. This smaller room was walled in at either 
 end with other pairs of folding-doors ; evidently so 
 devised as to permit of throwing open a continuous 
 passage around the interior wall of the court. One 
 of these pairs of doors, that separated her from the 
 crowded quarters of the Chinese establishment, she 
 herself kept locked. The other, leading to Teddy Han- 
 sel's room, had no key, at least on her side; but she 
 had tried the door and found it fast. She had hesi- 
 tated to make a point of speaking about it either to 
 Teddy himself or to the manager. 
 
 There were easy chairs and a couch in the sun-parlor, 
 152 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 and Edith often sat there of an afternoon sewing or 
 browsing in the books on Oriental porcelain and rug- 
 making and the early periods of painting that her uncle 
 bought lavishly and never himself opened. Through 
 the crevices about the double doors queer delicate odors 
 came floating to her nostrils, odors that subtly stirred 
 her imagination and that lingered in her thoughts even 
 when she was in the very European dining-room of the 
 hotel or out on the streets of the Legation Quarter. 
 They often drove from her consciousness the smell of 
 cigarettes that filtered in interminably from Teddy 
 Hansel's room on the other side. They conjured up 
 romantic pictures of the quite unreal old Cathay of 
 enchanted memory that never existed anywhere except 
 on screens and fans and sleeve-embroideries and wil- 
 low-ware. Late every afternoon and through the even- 
 ings there always came a burning odor that she thought 
 might prove suffocating if one got too much of it; and 
 she always wondered, with a little thrill, if it could be 
 opium. 
 
 She slipped out of her dinner-gown and into a walk- 
 ing-suit. Then she stepped for a moment into the sun- 
 parlor and sniffed the air. There it was, unmistakably 
 — the choking smell. And less distinct, a faint back- 
 ground of odors, was that confusion of other smells 
 that traditionally suggests the ancient, slumbrous East. 
 . . . Then suddenly her mind pictured the kindly Chi- 
 nese gentleman with the round spectacles who, in his 
 corner room, understood American girls — the man 
 who had played third base at Yale and who hoped to 
 
 153 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " sec Ty Cobb on the bases before he — how do we 
 say it ? — slows up." The thing was too bewilderingly 
 unreal ! 
 
 Her eyes were dreamy when she walked lightly 
 through the bedroom and with unconscious swiftness 
 threw open her door. 
 
 Then she stopped short, and stood motionless on the 
 threshold. 
 
 For there was Teddy Hansel — still in his dinner 
 clothes, but with his overcoat and hat on — backing 
 hurriedly away from the screen, while a slow flush 
 came over his face. 
 
 He started to speak; but stopped before he began, 
 with a flash of eager effort in his eyes, and mouth that 
 remained slightly open. . He took another backward 
 step or two, then stood still. . . . Edith, for the mo- 
 ment, could not move; she was still poised on the 
 threshold, her hand clasping the doorknob. And the 
 unsettling sense of discomfort that had left her during 
 that brief quarter-hour in her room was returning now 
 and was increasing with each second. She knew, even 
 before she could collect her fluttering thoughts, that the 
 queer look on Teddy's face was a look of guilt. She 
 felt an impulse to run away ... it was something 
 she should not have seen ... it forced them both 
 tacitly to recognize a fact that was in its nature a 
 secret. . 
 
 There was a rustle behind the screen. 
 
 Teddy turned ; took a few steps ; stopped ; fumbled in 
 his pocket for his cigarette case; then, still irresolute, 
 
 154 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 turned toward his own door, muttering something that 
 sounded Hke — " Get my stick." 
 
 Edith watched him enter his room. She wondered, 
 since he was only going for his stick, why he closed the 
 door after him. Then, conscious that her own color 
 was rising, she locked her door and went out past the 
 office into the main hall. The impulse to run away was 
 still stirring within her; but, unable to overcome that 
 queer sinking of the heart, unable for the moment to 
 think clearly, she stood for a little while on the outer 
 fringe, of the crowd that surrounded the conjuror. 
 Then, still restless and undecided, she sank into a chair 
 by the wall. 
 
 A few more minutes passed. She began to wish 
 desperately that Teddy would come. Not that she 
 wanted to see him — she dreaded it with rather ab- 
 surd intensity — but . . . Over across the hall Mr. 
 Carpenter, looking very comfortable, was quietly read- 
 ing the China Critic. She wished he would come over 
 and talk to her. Perhaps he did n't know she was 
 here. 
 
 A big, bearded man in evening dress was approach- 
 ing her. It was M. Stokoff of the Russian Legation. 
 She tried for a moment to avoid his gaze; his witty 
 compliments were a little hard to parry if you were 
 tired and your thoughts were afield. 
 
 But the suave personalities had hardly begun before 
 Mr. Carpenter, with an easy nod for the Russian, ap- 
 peared beside her. A little later M. Stokoff moved 
 away. 
 
 155 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Edith stole a glance at Mr. Carpenter. He must be 
 wondering why she was here, alone, dressed for the 
 street. It was nice of him not to ask questions. 
 
 " I was going to the moving-picture show with Teddy 
 Hansel," she said finally. " But it is getting pretty 
 late." 
 
 He looked at his watch. " You have been waiting 
 nearly half an hour," said he. " If the young man 
 does n't come pretty soon, I should say he does n't de- 
 serve to go anywhere with you." 
 
 She managed to smile. 
 
 "Shall I look him up?" 
 
 " Oh, no! " she replied, a bit hastily. " It does n't 
 matter." 
 
 He looked thoughtfully at her. " I am tempted," 
 he said, in a gently humorous tone, " to suggest that 
 you walk out with me." 
 
 She hesitated. Her sober eyes flitted to the con- 
 juror's corner, to the office at the end of the hall, to 
 the opening in the southern corridor. Unconsciously 
 she compressed her lips; then rose, and looking up at 
 the tall Mr. Carpenter, who towered above her, smiled 
 very impersonally. 
 
 " I should like to — very much," she said. 
 
 His hat and stick were at hand. They passed out 
 the door and through the court-yard. At the sidewalk, 
 as he swept back with his cane the crowding, impor- 
 tunate rickshaw coolies, she drew a long breath and 
 looked up at him. " I wonder if he 's more than 
 thirty-five ! " she was thinking. 
 
 156 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 They walked to the western end of Legation Street, 
 turned off to the left just beyond the American com- 
 pound, and slowy mounted the old stone ramp to the 
 top of the fifty-foot wall that encloses the Tartar City. 
 
 The grass was growing rank up here between the 
 crumbling parapets. They strolled for a time, then 
 sat on a fallen stone with their backs against the para- 
 pet. There was no moon, but the electric street-lamps 
 lighted the air and threw long shadows across the 
 broad top of the wall. On their left, a few hundred 
 yards away, loomed the great tower of the Chien Gate, 
 with its square pagoda roofs, one above another, out- 
 lined dimly against the night sky. On the right, at a 
 greater distance and less distinct, stood the tower of the 
 Ha Ta Gate. The scent of lilacs floated up to them on 
 the mild spring air from the garden of the American 
 Minister, directly beneath. And they could hear the 
 Marines singing on the steps of the barracks. 
 
 " It 's pleasant," said Miss Austin. 
 
 " The singing ? " 
 
 " And the hlacs — everything. Yes, they have nice 
 voices. Even that miserable old ' Casey Jones ' sounds 
 musical up here." 
 
 They fell silent for a time. 
 
 Then — "Look," said he; "you can just make out 
 the roofs of the Forbidden City — over there to the 
 north." 
 
 She peered through the dark, then leaned back 
 against the parapet, sighed, and stirred restlessly. 
 
 " I was thinking," she said, after a silence, " of the 
 
 157 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 women in there, in the Forbidden City — and the 
 girls." 
 
 " It is just as well not to think about women and 
 girls in China," said he. " At best, it is a rather tragic 
 subject." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it is." She controlled a shudder. 
 "They — they kill girl babies, don't they? " 
 
 " It is thought that they do, especially the second or 
 third girl in a family." 
 
 " And it is considered impolite to speak to a man 
 about his daughters." 
 
 " Oh, yes. All through the Orient, you know, the 
 woman is nothing. She is simply the plaything of the 
 man. And then of course — " his voice dropped into 
 the gentle, kindly tone that she was beginning to like — 
 " she is the mother. But there is no recognition of 
 the dignity and nobility of love. In China girls are 
 sold into marriage. It is usually arranged through 
 brokers." 
 
 Edith was sitting erect now. " And they often kill 
 themselves rather than go to the husbands they have 
 never seen," she said, with some heat. " I read about 
 it in one of Uncle's books. And then if they fall in 
 love with the wrong man, if — well, they are killed." 
 
 He nodded. " That 's about it." 
 
 " So that, either way, they have no chance ! " 
 
 "No — no chance, that is if a girl is cursed with 
 feelings and character of her own. But there you are ! 
 That is China. Their customs were ancient and set- 
 tled when we were chasing each other through the wilds 
 
 158 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 of Europe with stone axes. The one thing you can't 
 expect any Chinaman to understand is our feeling 
 about women." 
 
 " Pao Ting Fang understands, I think," said she, 
 with a rather surprising ring of conviction in her voice. 
 
 He looked curiously at her, then turned his gaze 
 back to the dim roofs of the city; and, after a little, 
 fell to telling her stories of his travels in Borneo and 
 Celebes and the islands of the South Seas. Slowly 
 she became interested. She began asking eager ques- 
 tions. Before they returned to the hotel he had made 
 her laugh a little. 
 
 But when he had said good-night and disappeared 
 up the stairway, her depression returned. She went 
 to her door, hesitated, and came back to the office to 
 see if Teddy had left word for her. But there was 
 nothing in her box. 
 
 Rather hurriedly she returned to her room, and 
 threw off her gloves, coat, and hat. Without switch- 
 ing on the light she walked through to the smaller 
 room and for a few moments gazed out from her dark- 
 ness into the dimly lighted court-yard. She stood lis- 
 tening, as if awaiting the sound of voices from the 
 other side of the double doors. Then, abruptly, she 
 went back into the bedroom, where no sounds could 
 be heard, lighted up, and undressed. She gave up an 
 unusually long time to feeding Wing and making him 
 comfortable for the night. She stood for a long mo- 
 ment by the bed, looking at it and wondering if it would 
 be possible for her to sleep. 
 
 159 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 It was, of course, too absurd, working herself up 
 over what doubtless had been a trivial episode. She 
 slipped into a kimono and tucked herself up in a 
 steamer-rug on a couch. She even opened the big 
 book on porcelain and tried to read the chapter on the 
 celebrated crackle-ware of the period of K'ang Hsi. 
 But her mind was clouded by waves of unreason. She 
 fell every now and then into listening for sounds. To 
 her sensitive nostrils came stale odors of the East that 
 set her mind racing through an improbable, fantastic 
 dream region. And the one clear object in all these 
 confused half-dreams was a painted oval face, and car- 
 mine lips that parted in a shy, excited smile, and a pair 
 of big slanting eyes with dancing points of light in 
 them . . . 
 
 The next morning Edith sat long over breakfast, 
 while her second cup of coffee grew slowly cold. Her 
 eyes flitted constantly to the door of the big dining- 
 room; but Teddy did not appear. Her aunt sat with 
 her, and remarked on the clothes of the women. 
 
 He and she had fallen into the custom of meeting 
 in the main hall after breakfast and discussing plans 
 for the day. She thought of going out there and 
 waiting for him; then put the idea aside and went on 
 answering her aunt's occasional questions. But the 
 time came when Mrs. Wilberly was ready to go. Edith 
 followed, slowly and thoughtfully. 
 
 She lingered in the hall, outwardly composed, look- 
 ing at the embroideries and at some silk laces from 
 Chefoo. But he did not come. 
 
 1 60 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 Teddy did not appear in the dining-room at noon. 
 Nor, so far as she could see, was any food carried to 
 his room. 
 
 She was conscious of some restraint on the part of 
 her aunt and uncle. They were talking in low tones 
 when she joined them for tiffin; and they avoided 
 her questioning eyes. Then, too, she had observed the 
 elder Hansel holding a very grave conversation with 
 the bearded Belgian manager of the hotel and Mr. 
 Wun, interpreter to His Excellency. 
 
 Pao Ting Fang himself, however, appeared in the 
 dining-room with his suite precisely as usual; bowed 
 and smiled to his acquaintances ; went through the meal 
 in dignified solitude, as was his custom; and returned 
 directly to his own quarters. 
 
 After luncheon, Mr. Wilberly, still avoiding Miss 
 Austin's eyes and with a muttered excuse, left the 
 table. 
 
 Then Mrs. Wilberly, after one or two ineffectual 
 efforts to find words, said: "Edith, if I were you 
 I would n't have anything to do with the Hansel 
 boy." 
 
 Miss Austin sank back in her chair and turned her 
 big hazel eyes full on her aunt. The color left her 
 face. 
 
 "Wh— " It was oddly difficult to speak. "Why?" 
 
 Mrs. Wilberly smoothed down her lace jabot. 
 
 " He is in very serious trouble. An awful scrape, 
 if you ask me. The boy must be crazy." 
 
 " Has he — run away. Aunt? " 
 i6i 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " No, he has n't. It would be much better if he 
 had." 
 
 Edith asked no more. She could not think clearly. 
 She avoided speaking to the acquaintances she met in 
 the hall ; and went to her room as soon as she decently 
 could. 
 
 As she opened her door she glanced back toward the 
 main hall and saw Mr. Hansel, senior, turning slowly 
 away from the manager's desk and heading into the 
 corridor. He came on toward his son's door. His 
 face was grave ; she had not before noticed how deeply 
 it was lined. And he walked heavily, like an old man. 
 
 She slipped into her room and hurried through to the 
 sun-parlor; stood motionless for a second, her slim 
 body tense, her hands nervously clasping and unclasp- 
 ing at her sides. Suppose Mr. Hansel were to find the 
 girl there in his son's room, — what would they do to 
 her? She bit her lip. She was desperately trying to 
 think. There was her father, the great Mandarin of 
 Peking and Yale — If the public disgrace could be 
 averted, would he understand ? Oh, why did n't some- 
 body do something ! 
 
 She abruptly knocked on the double door that led to 
 Teddy's room. 
 
 "What's that!" she heard him cry out excitedly. 
 
 Then came another sound — the sound of a woman 
 whimpering. 
 
 " Cut it out ! " she heard him mutter. " For God's 
 sake be still ! " But the whimpering went on. 
 
 Straining her ears, she could distinctly hear another, 
 162 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 fainter knocking. It was surely Mr. Hansel, out there 
 in the corridor. 
 
 Miss Austin spoke; not too loud but with deliberate 
 distinctness. 
 
 " Please open this door ! " 
 
 There was sudden silence in the next room, then 
 a repetition of the fainter knocking in the corridor. 
 
 She heard him move. He stumbled against a chair. 
 The girl whimpered again. 
 
 The key turned on his side. The door opened, and 
 Teddy Hansel stood there. His hair was tousled, his 
 face white and haggard. His overbright eyes stared 
 out of dark circles. A wisp of smoke curled up from 
 the cigarette between his brown fingers. 
 
 Behind him, the girl was curled in a round Httle 
 heap on the couch, her face buried on her arms. 
 
 Edith went swiftly to her and raised her head. The 
 girl would not look at her, but covered her face with 
 her hands. The short coat and trousers of peacock 
 blue silk were wrinkled; the wonderful coiffure was 
 disarranged, and straight strands of oily black hair 
 hung down over her forehead. The momentary 
 glimpse Edith caught of her face showed that the pow- 
 der and paint were gone, leaving only a few streaky re- 
 mains of rouge and carmine on a skin that was like 
 smooth old ivory. 
 
 Edith raised her, and, an arm about her shoulders, 
 walked with her through the doorway into her own 
 room. " It 's all right," she was saying, — " just come 
 with me. It 's all right." 
 
 163 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " No good talking English to her," whispered Teddy 
 Hansel excitedly. " She can't understand a word ! " 
 
 But Miss Austin hardly heard. " Quick," she said 
 to him, " get everything of hers out of your room." 
 
 Mr. Hansel was knocking again, out in the corridor, 
 and rattling the door-knob. 
 
 Teddy Hansel let himself in, and dropped wearily 
 mto an easy chair. 
 
 Edith stood looking down at the huddled figure on 
 her couch. A peacock blue shoulder and a black head 
 of straggling hair showed above the fringed end of the 
 steamer rug. She turned and suddenly realized that 
 the boy was there. She motioned toward the door, 
 unable to speak at the moment. She could not endure 
 the thought of having him in her room. But he paid 
 not the slightest attention to her. 
 
 " The Governor 's not satisfied," he remarked, in a 
 husky voice. " He does n't quite dare come to you — 
 yet. And I don't think he 's spoken to your uncle. 
 What next? We're not clear yet, by a lot! Got to 
 dispose of her somehow." He shivered perceptibly. 
 " It 's like having a body on your hands. God, you 
 don't know all I 've been through ! She lost her nerve 
 — would n't go back." 
 
 Edith tried to say " Please go ! " But the boy, self- 
 centered, rushed on. 
 
 " The Governor 's gone out somewhere. He looks 
 bad — older. I 'm scared about him. He 's always 
 been — I never thought of Dad's breaking." 
 
 164 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 He choked. For the first time she looked squarely 
 at him, and she saw that he was staring wildly. Sud- 
 denly his face twitched, and he covered it with his 
 hands. 
 
 " My God, Edith," he cried, " do something! Don't 
 you see ? Don't you — " 
 
 " Please — - please go ! " she said. 
 
 " But think what I 've done ! I 've gone to pieces. 
 And I 've queered the Governor ! I 've put him in 
 bad! " He was actually sobbing. And his voice was 
 rising. She had never before seen a man cry. " I 'm 
 a helpful little person, I am ! There 's a hundred mil- 
 lion dollars at stake, — and it 's up to Dad. A heap of 
 negotiating he '11 do on the strength of this! " 
 
 " Hush !" she said. "Be quiet!" 
 
 He slid down low on the chair, stretched out his thin 
 legs across the floor, thrust his hands deep into his 
 trousers pockets. His chin sagged on his chest. 
 
 Miss Austin straightened up, with an unconscious lit- 
 tle gesture of despair, and for a moment stood looking 
 out the window. Her lips were compressed ; her hands 
 were clasping and unclasping straight down by her 
 sides; and she was very still. She was thinking, 
 swiftly, of this strange man in her room — the man 
 who had yesterday been her boy chum. She was think- 
 ing that here, perhaps, was tragedy. A slang sen- 
 tence, phrased as the Teddy of yesterday would have 
 phrased it, was racing over and over, round and 
 round, in her mind — 
 
 " It is up to me ! It is up to me ! " 
 165 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Suppose she were to — what if — ? 
 
 She turned, with a nervous jerk of her head. There 
 was a light in her eyes, and an added touch of color on 
 her cheeks. 
 
 She went to the Chinese girl, and stood over her, 
 looking down at the peacock blue shoulder and the dis- 
 ordered hair. Then, very gently and tenderly, she 
 roused her, smiled down her fears, got her to her feet, 
 and led her into the bedroom. 
 
 " Wait ! What are you going to do ? " 
 
 She heard the voice, and she knew in a sort of way 
 that he had followed them as far as the bedroom door ; 
 but it was several seconds before she could sufficiently 
 master the queer repugnance he roused in her to frame 
 a reply. 
 
 Finally she said : " Take her to her father." 
 
 " But — " 
 
 " What else ? " Edith's voice was taking on a cut- 
 ting edge that no one had ever heard in it before. 
 " What else ? Kill her ? Marry her ? " 
 
 " But he 's a Chinaman. He won't understand ! " 
 
 " There 's not a man in the hotel who would under- 
 stand it better." 
 
 " But what are you going to tell him about — about 
 me?" 
 
 Miss Austin stood motionless, holding tight to the 
 arm of the drooping girl and looking straight into the 
 face of this man whom she was seeing for the first time. 
 She seemed to be trying, against her inner difficulty, to 
 
 i66 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 frame a reply. But she gave it up and turned to go, 
 leaving him standing there very white. 
 
 She opened the door a few inches and peeped up the 
 corridor toward the office. Seizing a moment when 
 no European face was in sight, she slipped out and 
 around the screen. The Chinese girl hung back, even 
 struggled a little, but Edith drew her rapidly along. 
 She was much the stronger. 
 
 A wrinkled old woman with crippled feet appeared 
 in a doorway, sipping tea from a rice bowl. She 
 looked, started, dropped the bowl. It broke into a dozen 
 pieces; and the woman hobbled forward over the 
 shards and through little rivers of steaming tea. She 
 caught the sleeve of the Chinese girl, jabbering in ex- 
 cited singsong. Miss Austin jerked the girl away and 
 hurried on. 
 
 Two other old women appeared. Several soldiers 
 and one of the Mandarins hurried out of a room. 
 Edith brushed rapidly by them. 
 
 A soldier barred the passage that led to the big cor- 
 ner room. She pushed him aside with her hand, and 
 went on with the girl trailing after. The passage was 
 dim, and Edith stumbled against the inner door. She 
 checked the impulse to knock ; she must go on, follow- 
 ing without hesitation the wild impulse that had 
 brought her thus far. She opened the door, pulled 
 the girl in, and closed it after her. 
 
 His Excellency was sitting alone at a modern flat- 
 top desk that was heaped with papers and books. He 
 
 167 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 looked up, and took in the extraordinary situation with- 
 out the twitch of a muscle — merely bowed gravely. 
 
 Miss Austin hesitated only long enough to recover 
 her breath and to clasp firmly the limp hand of the girl, 
 then came deliberately forward across the broad ex- 
 panse of carpeted floor. It seemed a very long way. 
 And every moment she felt his eyes on her — the quiet, 
 rather stern eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles. 
 The girl was hanging back desperately now, and their 
 progress was slow. Not a word was uttered. Finally, 
 when they had nearly reached the desk, the girl broke 
 away, staggered to a chair by the wall, and sank down, 
 hiding her face. 
 
 Miss Austin stood before the desk. She looked very 
 girlish and simple with her high color and blazing 
 eyes. 
 
 His Excellency, Pao Ting Fang, rose and bowed. 
 Whatever surprise or other emotion he may have felt 
 was hidden behind a mask of Oriental self-control. 
 
 " It is very kind of you," he said. 
 
 Then he was silent. 
 
 His courtesy was perfect; but there was no mistak- 
 ing that his greeting was also a dismissal. She un- 
 consciously compressed her lips; then drew a long 
 breath. 
 
 " I was sure you would understand — " 
 
 He bowed again. 
 
 "I — may I speak a word for her ? " 
 
 His eyebrows rose a very little, and, strangely, he 
 smiled. 
 
 1 68 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 She had to go on, however blindly. " I think per- 
 haps an American girl who has — well, traveled some, 
 can understand another girl better than a man can. 
 Any man. I know that " — she faltered, but kept at 
 it — " that your Chinese custom is very hard on girls. 
 I want to ask you to be gentle with her. I came to 
 ask that." 
 
 It was all pitifully inadequate. 
 
 Pao Ting Fang glanced up at a European clock 
 on the wall. It was twenty minutes to three. He 
 turned his eyes toward a door at the side of the 
 room. 
 
 " I regret," he said, in his even voice, " that there is 
 not time to discuss this now. At three I am receiving 
 an important deputation." 
 
 Again he waited for her to go. 
 
 " But — Your Excellency — don't you see, this is a 
 human life . . ." 
 
 She faltered, and knit her brows. Something was 
 the matter. She was not reaching him. 
 
 " I am sorry. I must ask you to go." 
 
 But she lingered. "I — I want to help her. It is 
 so big- — -a matter of life and death like this." 
 
 He merely bowed, and smiled again that smile that 
 was uncanny. He bent down, opened the top drawer 
 of the desk, and looked through it. He went swiftly 
 through another drawer. Evidently whatever he 
 sought was riot there. He stood for a moment ■ — 
 only for a moment — plunged in thought ; then moved 
 to the girl and rested a firm hand on her shoulder. 
 
 169 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Miss Austin saw her slender body quiver at the touch 
 of that hand. 
 
 He said something in Chinese. The vagrant thought 
 drifted through Edith's mind that as he spoke the 
 language it sounded like French. 
 
 The girl did not reply — merely sobbed, very 
 quietly. 
 
 Her father spoke again. 
 
 Haltingly, choking, low-voiced, she answered. 
 
 He turned to Edith. " I am exceedingly sorry, Miss 
 Austin. You have been most kind, but there is nothing 
 more you can do." 
 
 There was on his face an expression of gentle, fa- 
 talistic resignation that stirred Edith's Western spirit 
 to a fever of protest. 
 
 " Oh — please," she cried, " let her come to me ! I 
 will care for her. I will take her home with me." 
 
 He shook his head, smiling sadly. " You forget, 
 Miss Austin, that they would not permit her to enter 
 your country. This problem, I fear, is not for you 
 to solve. I must ask you to go. I regret it. I must 
 ask you to go." 
 
 But Edith reached for the back of a chair and clung 
 to it, shaking her head. Pao Ting Fang glanced agaui 
 at the clock. Then gravely, with impenetrable calm, 
 he crossed the room to a high lacquered cabinet. 
 From one of the compartments he took a small box of 
 carved ivory. This box he opened; and Edith, from 
 where she stood, could see that it was full of white 
 tablets. 
 
 170 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 He returned to his daughter, gently raised her head, 
 and put the box into her hand. 
 
 The girl stared at it a moment, then, with a catch of 
 her breath that sounded very loud in the silent room, 
 slipped to the floor and sat on her heels, leaning side- 
 wise against the chair. 
 
 She raised her grotesquely streaked face, and looked 
 out between wisps of hair, first at one closed door, 
 then at the other. She turned wildly toward the win- 
 dows. She even looked at the ceiling. Trembling 
 and whimpering she fingered the tablets. She took 
 one out of the box and fumbled with it for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Then, most unexpectedly, she looked up and faced 
 her father. An expression came into her face that 
 Miss Austin did not at all understand -^— a flash of de- 
 fiance in the eyes, a momentary smile that had a meas- 
 ure of exultation in it. It was as if some wild, won- 
 derful memory had suddenly come to her aid and had 
 transfigured her. It was very strange. 
 
 Looking finely and directly at her father she slipped 
 the tablet into her mouth and gulped it down. She 
 hurriedly took a second and a third. After a little she 
 took two more. She seemed to be growing drowsy. 
 Her head sank back. Her father supported it. The 
 pupils of her eyes grew slowly small — and smaller. 
 They dwindled to mere pin-points. They seemed to 
 disappear. She lay motionless in her father's arms. 
 
 Edith groped her way to the door. Her knees were 
 giving under her. She caught at a chair, then at the 
 
 171 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 doorknob. She let herself into the dim passage, 
 closed the door after her, and clung to it for a mo- 
 ment. She brushed past the sentry. Several of the 
 Mandarins were coming into the passage. They made 
 way for her, and stared at her with the mild-eyed, in- 
 offensive curiosity of the East. The foremost was 
 Mr. Wun, the interpreter. He bowed and smiled. 
 
 Teddy Hansel lay sprawled on the couch in Miss 
 Austin's sun-parlor, smoking and petting little Wing. 
 
 " Well," he asked petulantly, " how about it? What 
 happened ? " 
 
 Miss Austin gave a start, and then stood still, look- 
 ing at him. 
 
 After a moment she got to his door and opened it. 
 " You 'd better go," was all she could manage to say. 
 
 " But I say," observed he, getting to his feet, " you 
 seem to forget the fix I 'm in. How 'm I to know 
 what to do — how to act — if you don't tell me? " 
 
 Meeting her direct gaze he weakened and moved to- 
 ward the doorway, and through it. 
 
 " Like to know where / get off," he was muttering. 
 
 Miss Austin deliberately took the key from his side, 
 closed the door, and locked it. 
 
 She opened the casement, and sank into a chair. It 
 seemed to her that there was n't fresh air enough in 
 all the world to supply her need. 
 
 Even with the window open there was the odor of 
 cigarette smoke from the next room. She got up 
 nervously and put on her hat and the jacket of her 
 
 172 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEiN 
 
 suit. She walked out of the room and along the cor- 
 
 ridor. 
 
 The banking gentlemen \\ere grouped by the office, 
 
 "Well,'' he asked petulantly, "how about it? What happened?" 
 
 twelve or fifteen of them. Nearby stood an equal 
 number of His Excellency's Mandarins, in full re- 
 galia. 
 
 173 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Mr. Wun, the interpreter, stepped forward. 
 
 " Aw leady, Gen'lemen," said he cheerfully. 
 
 The two groups, yelloiw men and white, moved by 
 her down the passage. 
 
 But Mr. Hansel lingered, and touched the genial Mr. 
 Wun on the arm. 
 
 " Is there any news of the girl ? " he asked, very 
 low. 
 
 " Oh, yes, oh, yes," replied the Oriental, with a 
 smile that fairly illumined his round face. " Tha' 
 was awr a mistake. She di 'n' go 'way. Ev'yting aw 
 light — aw light!" 
 
 Mr. Hansel gazed at the interpreter with complete 
 mystification written on his face. He seemed on the 
 point of framing another question. But he gave it up, 
 and followed the others along the corridor and behind 
 the screen to the big corner room where His Excel- 
 lency, Pao Ting Fang, smiling and serene, awaited 
 them to discuss the terms on which the bankers of the 
 Six Powers would permit China to live. Mr. Han- 
 sel's feet shuffled slightly as he walked, and his body 
 gave the appearance of sagging with each step. 
 
 It was " aw hght." The girl was dead. There 
 would be no publicity and no trouble. It was now 
 merely a matter of that hundred million dollars. 
 
 Miss^Austin walked out through the court-yard to 
 the street and looked about her. 
 
 As she stood there a rickshaw drew up at the curb, 
 and Mr. Carpenter stepped out. She greeted him with 
 
 174 
 
BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 
 a wan smile. He looked very big and solid and — 
 well, normal, as he stood there smiling down at her. 
 So, on an impulse, she said the things that made him 
 ask if he might walk with her. 
 
 They again climbed the ramp to the top of the great 
 Tartar Wall. They walked on the wall, past the Ger- 
 man barracks, through the tower of the wonderful Ha 
 Ta Men, and on clear to the corner where the wall 
 swings north. Then they walked back. 
 
 " Please let me sit here and rest a little," said Miss 
 Austin, as they were passing above the American bar- 
 racks. " We sat here that other time — last year, or 
 last night, or whenever it was ! " 
 
 He smiled; but not gaily, for she was pale. And 
 it had been difficult to keep her from walking alto- 
 gether too rapidly. " The child is a bundle of nerves 
 to-day," he was thinking. 
 
 " The lilacs are still there," he observed, sniffing the 
 balmy afternoon air. " So it could n't have been more 
 than a week or two ago if it was this year. And it 
 could n't have been last year, because then I was in 
 Sarawak. Have you ever heard of Rajah Brooke? " 
 
 " Please," she said, " don't tell me about him — 
 not now." 
 
 He looked away toward the glazed yellow roofs of 
 the Forbidden City that were glistening in the late 
 afternoon sunlight like acres and acres of bright gold 
 scattered about in a setting of the pale, filmy foliage 
 of spring. Peking, seen from the wall, is a city built 
 in a forest. 
 
 175 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Nor about the Sultan of Johore," persisted Mr. 
 Carpenter whimsically, " and how he came to have the 
 diamond set in his front tooth ? " 
 
 Miss Austin gravely shook her head. " Not even 
 about the diamond," she said. " I 've got to do some 
 talking, myself. I 've got to say one thing right now, 
 or I shall scream. And there is nobody in Peking, 
 unless it is you, that I can say it to." 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 She hesitated, and drew in a quick breath. If he 
 had glanced around he would surely have seen that 
 she was fighting back unruly tears. But he did not 
 glance around. She liked him for that. 
 
 " I was thinking," she said, very slowly and a 
 thought unsteadily, " that if I don't watch out I shall 
 find myself loathing men — loathing them." She re- 
 peated the word with a slight, unexpected explosive 
 quality in her voice. 
 
 She made an effort to compose herself; then sud- 
 denly realized that he was still looking off at those shin- 
 ing yellow roofs — rather grimly, it appeared. The 
 unruly tears rushed into her eyes. She rested a light 
 hand on his sleeve. " Please," she added, ^gently — 
 " please don't misunderstand that." 
 
 " I don't think I shall misunderstand," said he, 
 quietly. 
 
 After a little he deliberately shifted his position and 
 looked at her. He saw a slim young girl with a great 
 deal of fluffy hair that escaped from under her hat and 
 hid all but the tip of an ear; and he saw a pale, tired 
 
 176 
 
■You're not old," said she — "not a bit, 
 young men." 
 
 . 1 don't like 
 
 177 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 face, with an expression that was in part a new, quite 
 unaccustomed sadness and in part sheer hurt and be- 
 wilderment. He Hked her long straight nose and the 
 little point to her chin. " Good stuff," he thought ; 
 " good stuff there." He was conscious of her spirit, 
 her quick vitality, even in this hour of depression. He 
 was conscious, too, of her vast ignorance of life, and 
 of her charm. 
 
 She felt his eyes on her, and looked up. There was 
 no self-consciousness in her gaze, as her eyes rested 
 on his face. And she was wholly impersonal — 
 armored with the baffling reticence and inexperience 
 of youth. 
 
 He clasped a bony knee in his big, muscular hands ; 
 and smiled. She responded, rather vaguely. He saw, 
 clearly enough, that she was thinking about any one 
 or anything on earth but himself. 
 
 " I 'm rather a hard-headed person," he said. " My 
 job in life is buying cutch — and such — for a house 
 in Chicago that deals in essential oils. But I 'm a 
 pretty good listener, and you may tell me anything you 
 care to — I mean, if there 's something that you 've 
 simply got to tell somebody. That 's one of the ad- 
 vantages of getting old — you do learn how to listen." 
 
 Miss Austin shook her head at him. " You 're not 
 old," said she — " not a bit. ... I don't like young 
 men." 
 
 178 
 
VI 
 
 THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 UNCLE FRANK has a grouch," thought Miss 
 Austin, glancing with quiet eyes across the ta- 
 ble, " because I 'm late to dinner. He 's going to be 
 ugly in a minute." 
 
 With which observation she dropped her gloves 
 into her lap, pinned up her veil, and told the Chinese 
 waiter in her best Pidgin Enghsh that she would skip 
 soup and fish and begin with the roast. 
 
 " I 've been with Miss Eavesby all afternoon," she 
 explained sweetly, in hope of averting the storm, " at 
 the English Board Mission. She 's ill, you know. 
 But she is wonderful — her experiences and the fight 
 she has made for her people out in Shansi. She would 
 die for those heathens in a minute." 
 
 The cloud on Mr. Wilberly's fat face was gathering 
 into a scowl. Edith had forgotten his particular dis- 
 like of the missionaries. Now, doubtless, she had 
 turned him on. He would rant. She disliked ranting. 
 She hesitated ; but then concluded, a thought defiantly : 
 
 " I wish I had started as a missionary. My life is 
 so useless. I 'd like to be right out there in the fight 
 with Rhoda Eavesby." 
 
 179 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Mr. Wilberly sought the eyes of his wife; but that 
 rather evasive person was absorbed in study of a sim- 
 ple but surprisingly effective pink Liberty gown at the 
 next table. 
 
 Mr. Wilberly cleared his throat. He was going to 
 turn loose now. Edith knew it. She rested her cheek 
 on a slender hand and set up a pretense of examining 
 the menu. 
 
 " Do you think you 're as considerate as you might 
 be, Edith — knocking around Peking alone — at night, 
 this way? How about your aunt and me? There 
 are people who would hold us accountable for you. 
 But the way you go on, never thinking of anybody 
 but yourself, of anything but your own whims . . ."' 
 
 Mrs. Wilberly, with a fluttering glance around, ven- 
 tured : 
 
 " But I 'm sure she came straight to the hotel from 
 the Mission, Frank." 
 
 Mr. Wilberly was not to be headed off. " And the 
 people you pick up, Edith! I tell you they 're a bad 
 lot out here. As a practical business-man I 've had 
 chances to observe 'em. They 're a bad lot. Even 
 experienced people get taken in. And you, a girl with 
 not the slightest knowledge of life — " 
 
 " But a missionary ! "' faltered Edith, while the color 
 slowly mounted her cheeks. " You just don't know, 
 Uncle Frank. She is a saint." 
 
 " She isn't a saint! " sputtered Mr. Wilberly. 
 
 " Ssh ! " breathed his wife. " Don't raise your 
 voice, Frank! " 
 
 180 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 But Mr. Wilberly had to get it all out. " They 're 
 not saints — none of 'em. They 're a meddlesome lot 
 of humbugs, mixing in things they 're not fitted to un- 
 derstand. Why don't they stick to their preaching! 
 As a business man I — " 
 
 He paused. There was a long, long silence. Edith 
 was still apparently intent on the menu ; but her lashes 
 drooped over eyes that had deepened from their usual 
 hazel to a blazing brown. The flush lingered on her 
 cheeks and temples. Surely everybody at the nearby 
 tables must know that they were quarreling absurdly, 
 grotesquely. Oh, how she hated scenes, argument, 
 criticism! " After all " — the thought rushed into her 
 mind on a hot wave of anger- — "he's only an uncle 
 by marriage ! " 
 
 He was eating now. She could hear him ; but would 
 not raise her eyes. The afternoon had been stirring, 
 beautiful, at the bedside of that little, pale woman with 
 the gently smiling mouth, thin hair, and luminous blue 
 eyes. And the rickshaw ride, alone, at dusk, through 
 the swarming, muddy streets of old Peking — there 
 had been the stir of enchantment in it. And now — 
 this I Tears were crowding into her eyes ; she fought 
 them back. 
 
 All through the meal the silence continued, until cof- 
 fee-and-cigar time. Then Mr. Wilberly began to 
 breathe heavily. He was going to say something. 
 Edith wondered what. Probably an attempt at good- 
 humor — -something jocular, offhand. That was al- 
 ways likely, with him, to be the next phase after an 
 
 i8i 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 outbreak. " Day after to-morrow," she reflected, 
 " he '11 give me a pearl necklace or something. And 
 I don't want him to. Oh, why can't people just be- 
 have! " 
 
 " Funny thing," began Uncle Frank, with an effort 
 at a chuckle, " you know I 've been nibbling at one or 
 two of those old vases at the porcelain merchant's in 
 the Ha Ta High Street." (Yes, it was to be the off- 
 hand vein.) "Well, Blumstein tipped me off to-day. 
 You know the fellow has really got some fine Ming 
 and K'ang Hsi stuff and wants big prices. But it 
 seems he is acting for Heatherington, the English 
 dealer that 's stopping here at the hotel." 
 
 " You don't say ! " responded Mrs. Wilberly, eager 
 to humor him. 
 
 " Yes, I do. Heatherington, it appears, brought the 
 stuff all the way from London and is selling it here 
 secretly to rich Americans. Can you beat it! Blum- 
 stein says he can average twenty per cent, higher prices 
 here than in New York or London. Folks spend freer, 
 you know, when they 're traveling. Fact. I do my- 
 self. Lucky I picked up this tip. I 'd have fallen for 
 it sure. But never again ! The next time I buy Chi- 
 nese stuff, I buy in little old New York." 
 
 He attempted another chuckle, but with no great 
 success. Edith did not so much as raise her eyes. 
 The enveloping silence returned. Finally, muttering 
 something about talking things over with Blumstein, 
 he left them. 
 
 " You must try not to mind your uncle," said Mrs. 
 182 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 Wilberly. " These indirect ways of doing business 
 upset him. Everything is delay — delay — delay. 
 And everybody smiles. It tries his patience dread- 
 fully. It 's that matter of the Shansi Concession. 
 He's been thinking of nothing else since we landed 
 at Shanghai, and I don't see that the thing has pro- 
 gressed an inch. I shall be glad, for one, when he 
 definitely gives it up. Then maybe we could start 
 back home. But as it stands now, nothing will suit 
 Mr. Blumstein but oiu: going clear out there to T'ai 
 Yuan Fu. He says we shall have Government escort 
 and there '11 be no possible danger." 
 
 " Well," replied Edith, in a low voice, " a glimpse of 
 the Interior would be interesting. It has looked lately 
 as if we were n't even going to have the trip to the 
 Ming Tombs." 
 
 Mrs. Wilberly hesitated, and her eyes wandered. 
 She was wondering how to rephrase her husband's 
 sputterings on the subject: " I can't undertake to run 
 my business and Edith, too — certainly not out there. 
 It is all well enough for people that '11 stay put. But 
 Edith — in T'ai Yuan? Not much!" 
 
 Finally she said : " Your uncle thinks it would be 
 safer for us to leave you here at the hotel. The Old- 
 hams wire that they 're coming in to-morrow on the 
 Hankow train. And your uncle is sure they '11 be glad 
 to take care of you." 
 
 "You're leaving soon, then?" 
 
 " Why — yes. By the early train to-morrow morn- 
 ing. Some dreadful hour — six o'clock, I think. We 
 
 183 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 won't disturb you. And you can stay right on here 
 with the Oldhams." 
 
 Miss Austin turned away a face that gave no more 
 hint of whatever thoughts were stirring behind it than 
 was conveyed in a sHghtly bored smile. " If anybody 
 ' takes care ' of me," she was thinking, " it will be 
 Rhoda Eavesby." And so, later that evening, after 
 avoiding demurely but adroitly the already contrite ad- 
 vances of her uncle, she slipped away to her own room, 
 and, with a snap in her eyes and an occasional little 
 jerk of her prettily poised head, deliberately packed a 
 wicker suit-case. 
 
 It was a trim, cheerful girl who appeared the next 
 morning at the bedside of Miss Rhoda Eavesby in the 
 English Board Mission, carrying a tiny black and white 
 sleeve-dog and followed by a " boy " with a wicker 
 suit-case. 
 
 The invalid greeted her with a wistful smile. " It 
 is good of you to be so fresh and pretty, dear," she 
 said, and clung to her hand. " You bring the lovely 
 spring day right into the room with you." 
 
 Miss Austin blushed with pleasure, and averted her 
 face under pretext of finding a comfortable hollow in 
 the bed-clothing for Wing. " It is nice to see the sun 
 again after all the rain we 've had," she murmured. 
 Then she looked up. " Was my telephone message 
 very abrupt? Aunt and Uncle left for T'ai Yuan 
 this morning — with Mr. Blumstein. I could n't stay 
 around the hotel with those stupid Oldham people, so 
 
 184 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 I made up my mind to come here. If you '11 let me, 
 I '11 just take care of you until they come back." 
 
 This speech had an unexpected effect. The little 
 missionary sat up straight, and sobered. 
 
 "My dear," she said — "wait! You don't mean 
 the Blumstein, from Shanghai — Simon Blumstein, 
 of the North China Development Company?" 
 
 Miss Austin nodded. " Yes, he 's from Shanghai 
 And his name is Simon; I think." 
 
 Miss Eavesby sat motionless for a long moment. 
 Then : " I 've never thought to ask your uncle's name, 
 dear." 
 
 Edith told her. Miss Eavesby knit her brows ; then 
 drew another pillow in behind her and leaned back 
 against it. Edith, concerned, looked at the thin face, 
 usually gentle and smiling but now keen, almost sharp, 
 with a set to the mouth and a light in the blue eyes. 
 For the first time she observed that Miss Eavesby had 
 only the thinnest, faintest of eyebrows. " And yet," 
 thought Edith, " she is beautiful." 
 
 " So they 're at it again," mused the missionaiy. 
 She looked up and soberly studied the girlish face be- 
 fore her. " I don't quite know what to say — " 
 
 "If it's about Uncle—?" 
 
 " I 'm afraid it is." She hesitated again. " But 
 perhaps I 'd better tell you." 
 
 " Please do. What are they at again?" 
 
 " Well, suppose you look there in the middle bureau 
 drawer — over to the right. Oh, just rummage things 
 around ! Now bring me that fat red portfolio. The 
 
 I8S 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 whole story is in there somewhere." She drew thick 
 bundles of papers from the various compartments and 
 strewed them about the bed. " Here, this one. I 
 translated them myself — all the petitions of the ' Gen- 
 try and People of Shansi.' " She smiled faintly. 
 " Though perhaps ' petitions ' is n't just the word." 
 
 She glanced over the document, and sighed. " Why 
 do the foreigners have to come in and stir it all up 
 again — this dreadful business — just because they 
 are greedy for more, and more, and more! We mis- 
 sionaries come from Christian lands and try to teach 
 the Gospel of our Christ to these yellow people, and 
 then our leading citizens follow us and use the power 
 and intelligence that is the birthright of civihzation to 
 rob them of all they have! " 
 
 The blue eyes were flashing now; and there was a 
 spot of red on each cheek. 
 
 " Oh, well," she added, rather sadly, " you won't 
 like to hear me say these things." 
 
 " Please go on," said Edith softly. " I want to 
 understand." 
 
 " Well, fifteen years ago a European Company — 
 the Shansi Syndicate, it was called — got a concession 
 granting them the ' sole right ' to work the best coal 
 and iron mines of Shansi. They got it in the usual 
 way, bribery at Peking. Native companies were pro- 
 hibited from setting up modem machinery or compet- 
 ing in any effective way. The Province all but rose in 
 arms. Listen to this. It sounds quaint, as I 've trans- 
 lated it ; but, oh, they meant it ! 
 
 1 86 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 " ' The People of Shansi must hold to their mines 
 till death, as Li Pai Jen committed suicide on account 
 of the mines, and about him we can only think with 
 grief and sorrow and tears; yet if the Government and 
 oiificials still unrighteously flatter the foreigners in 
 their oppression and flay the people robbing them df 
 their flesh and blood to give those to the foreigners 
 then some one else must follow Li Pai Jen and throw 
 away his own life by bomb-throwing and so repay the 
 Syndicate!'" 
 
 The little missionary was sitting up very straight 
 now. Her voice had deepened in timbre. Her eyes 
 blazed with militant spirit. And Miss Austin sat fas- 
 cinated in the stiff chair beside the bed, her young 
 nerves tingling with a responsive thrill. " Oh," she 
 was thinking, " how wonderful to believe in anything 
 as much as that ! " 
 
 Miss Eavesby quieted a little. " We beat them," 
 she went on. " After ten years of pressure and 
 manceuvering the Syndicate gave it up — pulled out. 
 But they left a wreck behind them, a wreck of our 
 work and our hopes. There aren't two other prov- 
 inces in all the eighteen that hate foreigners and, yes, 
 Christianity, as Shansi hates them. In nineteen-hun- 
 dred they killed a hundred and eighty of our people — 
 every white man, woman, and child that was in the 
 Province at the time. They nearly did it again in 
 nineteen-seven. We had to start all over then, for 
 the third time, teaching them that Christianity does n't 
 mean greed, bribery, plunder. We 've had to be so 
 
 187 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 very, very patient. And now they 're at it again, 
 working through the new Government, taking ad- 
 vantage of the unsettled conditions. Blumstein has 
 never stopped watching Shansi. He wants that won- 
 derful anthracite coal, and the iron. The great civ- 
 ilized Christian world wants that iron and coal. They 
 will bribe, steal, murder, they will devastate a people, 
 but they want that iron and coal." 
 
 She threw back the bed-clothes and swung her feet 
 around, a frail little woman in a nightgown, sitting 
 on the edge of the bed. Her feet groped their way into 
 the slippers that stood there side by side. 
 
 " Oh, please," Edith murmured, " you must n't tire 
 yourself! Please lie down again." 
 
 But the little missionary merely reached for a wrap 
 and drew it about her shoulders. It was a Japanese 
 scarf of crepe silk, a soft gray in color, fringed at the 
 ends and exquisitely embroidered with trailing wis- 
 taria blossoms, also in gray. Then she smiled gently, 
 and replied : 
 
 " No, dear. I must get up and dress. I can't lie 
 abed here, not with Simon Blumstein in T'ai Yuan. 
 I 'm sorry to be inhospitable. Oh — " the blue eyes 
 began flashing again — " oh, if I only had some 
 money ! With five hundred dollars I could beat Blum- 
 stein." 
 
 Miss Austin's eyes widened. " You could beat 
 him?" she repeated, wondering. 
 
 The missionary compressed her lips and nodded. 
 " / could do it. If I had the money. It 's a matter 
 
 1 88 
 
to 
 
 THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 of new petitions and runners and traveling expenses 
 for a dozen workers and a big meeting at T'ai Yuan. 
 Yes, a meeting will do it. And such things cost 
 some money, even in China. And of course I can't be 
 active myself. Mr. Harbison won't let me. He says 
 I 'm worse than having dynamite around. He is 
 afraid of trouble. They 're all afraid." 
 
 She had been staring out the window as she spoke. 
 Now she turned and looked at the rather bewildered 
 face of the girl before her. 
 
 " I 'm afraid I run away with you, dear," she said 
 gently. " I forget that you don't know these people 
 as I do. But it is so absurdly simple, if we could only 
 contrive to finance it. Everything is confused now, 
 since the Revolution. The people are tired, and poor, 
 and worried. And they don't know about it. With- 
 out leadership they will do nothing ; and all those who 
 might lead are fixed. It is not so different, my dear, 
 from our home public ; only worse — and they are 
 incredibly poorer and more timid. . . . Blumstein has 
 got the officials, of course, here and at T'ai Yuan. 
 They have his money and the promise of more; and 
 they '11 let him do whatever he can on his own, just 
 so long as he does n't stir up trouble. But they won't 
 back him in a crisis. They can't. If we can only stir 
 up his trouble for him those canny old Mandarins will 
 have to be with us or lose face. . . . Oh," she sighed, 
 " with a little money, a little leadership, a little organi- 
 zation, posters on all the highways for a hundred miles 
 out of T'ai Yuan, a big public meeting, one more 
 
 189 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 mighty effort — just to make it look as if the people 
 are still guarding their rights . . ." 
 
 She flung out her thin, white arms in a gesture of 
 intense but despairing nervous energy, compressed her 
 thin lips again, and got to her feet. 
 
 Edith sprang up and took her arm. " What are you 
 going to do, Rhoda, dear ? " 
 
 " Get into my clothes — write some letters — pack 
 up." _ 
 
 Edith knit her brows. " But — but anyway you 
 can't go to'T'ai Yuan now." 
 
 " No, not until morning, worse luck. But I can't 
 lie another minute in that bed." 
 
 " But, Rhoda, dear, if you have n't the money what 
 good would it do ? " 
 
 The little missionary steadied herself by the foot 
 of the bed and looked at Edith. " I don't know," she 
 murmured; and there was a hoarseness in her voice. 
 " Every instinct I have drives me to go. But — I 
 wonder." She sank into a chair and fixed her great 
 eyes on the wall before her. " Cooped up in the Mis- 
 sion — unable to do any outside work myself — un- 
 able to employ others — " She pressed her hands to 
 her temples. " I don't seem able to think clearly. 
 Here is my fifteen years' fight going to nothing before 
 my eyes — and somehow I 'm failing to meet the emer- 
 gency ! " 
 
 Miss Austin moved slowly to the window, and 
 looked out (with eyes that saw very little) at the wet 
 tennis-court where two Chinese youths in blue robes 
 
 190 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 were languidly knocking a ball back and forth. She 
 was stirring with indignation against her Uncle Frank. 
 Why need he mix himself in this miserable exploita- 
 tion of a weaker people. Then in a flash it came to her 
 that the business of life, to which he was so passion- 
 ately devoted, was precisely that — exploiting weaker 
 peoples. He had talked enthusiastically, between plat- 
 itudes, of the wonderful " opportunities for develop- 
 ment " . in Shansi. Now suddenly she knew what he 
 meant. He meant bribery, stealth, sharp dealing in 
 the letter of contracts, diplomatic trickery — in his 
 heart a serene faith in the superior ultimate right and 
 might of thirteen-inch guns and fourteen-inch armor 
 plate from home. 
 
 When Edith looked around, the little missionary saw 
 a pair of hazel eyes that had deepened in color and an 
 unexpectedly firm mouth within the perfect oval of 
 that girlish face. 
 
 "Would a hundred dollars help?" asked Edith 
 quietly. " I have about a hundred and ten, gold, I 
 think." 
 
 Miss Eavesby smiled sadly and shook her head. 
 " Bless your dear heart, Edith — no. A small amount 
 would be wasted. I said five hundred, but it would 
 take rather more than less." 
 
 " I could n't possibly raise another cent without 
 going to Uncle Frank," mused Edith ; " and he is on 
 the other side. We could n't expect him to put up 
 money to defeat himself. No, we 're fighting him." 
 And she sighed. 
 
 191 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " I want you to have this," said Miss Eavesby, a 
 little later, folding the wistaria scarf with a loving 
 touch, and laying it on Edith's suit-case. 
 
 " You want me — Why, my dear, I would n't 
 think . . .!" 
 
 The little missionary laid her hand on Edith's arm. 
 " Please," she said. " Please ! I bought it for my- 
 self ; and it was wrong. I must n't have it. I love it 
 too much. I love pretty things." 
 
 " Of course you do," cried Edith. " Why should n't 
 you? You mustn't feel this way!" 
 
 Miss Eavesby 's eyes filled, but she shook her head. 
 " I want you to have it." 
 
 " But, my dear . . . ! " 
 
 " I 've been caring for myself, gratifying myself ; 
 and all the time they needed me in Shansi ! " She 
 shook her head again; and for a little time went on 
 with the business of dressing. Edith, in some be- 
 wilderment, sat watching her. 
 
 Finally the missionary came and took her by the 
 shoulders and rested her cheek lightly on Edith's abun- 
 dant fluffy hair. When she spoke, her voice was un- 
 steady. " It 's the wrongest thing I do," she said, 
 " clinging to my pretty things. It always blinds me. 
 Every now and then, when I feel strong. I give them 
 all away ; then, the first thing I know I 'm tempted 
 again, and I weaken. I love the wonderful old porce- 
 lain of China. I 've seen a moment when I would have 
 sold my very soul for a Ming vase. They said it was 
 Ming. I can't tell them apart myself — but the color 
 
 192 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 was adorable. I had to make it a rule when I first 
 came out here never to begin learning about such 
 things. It is the only safe way, you know. If a de- 
 moralizing thought threatens to fill your mind, just 
 shut it out altogether." 
 
 She stood erect. Edith caught a glimpse of her in 
 the mirror above the bureau, brushing back from her 
 flushed forehead a wisp of faded hair. 
 
 " I want you to take it, Edith, dear. I bought it in 
 a fit of wilfulness. It 's the only thing I 've kept, this 
 year, except my funny camel. That 's out at the Mis- 
 sion in T'ai Yuan; and anyway it isn't beautiful, just 
 quaint. It 's nothing anybody would ever want, ex- 
 cept me. Take this, please. Because I ask you to." 
 
 So Miss Austin, feeling suddenly old and strangely 
 humble in the presence of this simple, militant child 
 of a faith, packed the scarf among her own things in 
 the wicker suit-case. 
 
 " What is this camel ? " asked Miss Austin, turning 
 away from the window and making an effort to speak 
 in a casual tone. 
 
 " Oh, just a pottery image. It was given me by an 
 old Chinese gentleman of Taiku, whom we cured of 
 the opium habit." 
 
 " Has it any glaze or color ? " 
 
 The little missionary knit her brows. " Why — 
 yes, I believe it has. At least, it is n't rough clay like 
 some of those old things. What are you getting at, 
 Edith?" 
 
 193 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " You are wondering if it has a value." She 
 sighed. "If it had, I would have sold it long ago. 
 Even though it was a present. You see, dear, it is 
 only the beautiful things that are worth anything. 
 The vases and such. My poor camel is just an old 
 brown thing. Oh, it would bring a little something 
 — five, ten, twenty-five dollars, even. Though I doubt 
 it. You can buy all sorts and sizes of pottery and 
 bronze animals for that. Why, even if it were ivory, 
 it would n't fetch nearly enough. And it is n't ivory." 
 
 Miss Austin made no reply; merely looked at her 
 for a moment through narrowed eyelids, then turned 
 away. Memories of colored plates in her uncle's 
 quarto volumes on Chinese Porcelains were passing in 
 a confused series before her mind's eye. But she had 
 only impressions, no exact knowledge. " If I only 
 knew! " sh'e was thinking. Very possibly Miss Eavesby 
 was right. 
 
 " Come," said the little missionary, as if with a sud- 
 den resolution, " let 's waste no more thought on use- 
 less notions. I 've made up my mind. Blumstein is 
 going to beat me at last ; but when the beating comes 
 I shall be in T'ai Yuan to take it. I can't stay here. 
 It 's no good. You 've been a dear, Edith ; I hate to 
 leave you this way. But I 've got to take the early 
 train to-morrow." 
 
 Miss Austin sat on the edge of the bed, picked up 
 little Wing, and cuddled him against her cheek. 
 
 " I 'm going with you," she said. 
 194 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 " Oh, no, my child . . . ! " 
 
 Edith nodded. Her eyes were ghstening. 
 
 " But it 's impossible. It might be actually unsafe." 
 
 " How about yourself ? " 
 
 " That 's different." 
 
 "Why? How?" 
 
 " I 'm pledged to the service. It 's my work." 
 
 " Well," said Edith, slowly and with emotion, " it 's 
 about time I was a little use — to somebody or some- 
 thing. I never have been yet. You have at least two 
 degrees of fever right now. You need a nurse, that 's 
 what you need. If you insist, after I get you safely to 
 T'ai Yuan, I '11 join Aunt and Uncle, take my scolding, 
 and come back with them. But you shan't go a step 
 without me." 
 
 The little missionary looked thoughtfully at the de- 
 termined, pretty face. She glanced down at the per- 
 fect lines and fit of the smart spring suit, up again at 
 the simple walking hat and at the mite of a dog that 
 was pressed close to the soft cheek of his mistress. 
 And then she suppressed a sigh. 
 
 " I ought n't to let you go," she said. 
 
 " You are n't letting me," replied Edith. And she 
 smiled excitedly as she turned away. Girl-like, she 
 had not given her real reasons. She was going to 
 T'ai Yuan Fu to see that camel ! 
 
 They went south on the Hankow " local " that fol- 
 lowing morning, in a spring rain that drove inces- 
 santly against the windows of their dingy compart- 
 
 195 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 ment. At Chingting they changed from the main line 
 to the metre-gauge T'ai Yuan Fu line; and climbed, 
 twisting and crawling along earthen precipices and 
 creeping timidly over doubtful bridges that spanned 
 swollen streams, into and over the terraced brown 
 hills of Shansi. Late in the afternoon the train slid 
 cautiously down into a wide valley where there were 
 forts, and frequent villages, and twin pagodas, all 
 misty-looking behind the sheets of rain, and glimpses 
 of a city with high masonry walls and huge gate-tow- 
 ers. They were hustled across a crowded platform by 
 Miss Eavesby's wrinkled servant, " Oldjohn," to rick- 
 shaws, and driven for a long time over rough streets 
 with a great many turns. Then Miss Austin found 
 herself in a modern brick house, talking to a Mr. and 
 Mrs. Harbison, who had patient, kindly faces and tired 
 eyes. Finally she and her little missionary were 
 shown into adjoining bedrooms to change their wet 
 clothing, sip tea, and rest. 
 
 An hour later Edith, looking astonishingly fresh and 
 pretty in a pink kimono, was half sitting, half reclin- 
 ing on her bed, writing with a fountain pen in her 
 diary, when Miss Eavesby entered the room with a 
 square wooden box. Edith was shocked to observe 
 how frail and white she looked. 
 
 " Oh, my dear," cried Edith reproachfully, " you 
 ought to be resting! How on earth am I going to 
 keep you off your feet ? You '11 simply break down, 
 dear!" 
 
 196 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 The missionary carefully deposited the box on the 
 foot of the bed and sat beside it. 
 
 " No," she replied, very gravely, " I shall not break 
 down. Some day I shall wear out. That 's all. I 'm 
 not sure that it matters now. Mr. Harbison tells me 
 that the Province is all confusion. There 's no more 
 public spirit — the Revolution exhausted that. 
 There 's no trade to speak of. Robber bands are still 
 prowling everywhere outside the cities; they've 
 burned one of the Baptist posts between here and Sian 
 Fu. The officials, like all the others, are looking out 
 for themselves." She spread out her thin arms in 
 the oddly oratorical way she had when she was stirred. 
 " Oh, it is the perfect time for the Blumstein-Wilberly 
 group! They're working fast, or as fast as you can 
 work in China. Mr. Harbison says the new papers 
 will be signed within two weeks, and the work will 
 begin within a month. Blumstein must have felt very 
 sure. He has invested heavily. His organization is 
 ready — engineers all over the place. And I can't 
 raise my hand. It would take me days and days, even 
 if I had the money to work with." 
 
 She sighed, and for a moment studied the delicate 
 embroidery on Miss Austin's kimono, even reached 
 forward and absently fingered the thin silk. " That 's 
 Kioto embroidery," she mused. Then she went on : 
 " I 'm going to send you up to join your uncle and 
 aunt the first thing to-morrow, Edith. It 's safer. 
 You see, the Governor himself is protecting them. 
 
 197 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 It 's nearly a day's ride, by mule-litter. They 're in 
 the hills, up north, stopping with Mr. Greene, Blum- 
 stein's chief engineer." She rested her fingers lightly 
 on the toe of Edith's slipper. Her blue eyes filled. 
 " You 've been a dear, Edith, to come way out here 
 with me. I should n't have let you." 
 
 Miss Austin was looking at her with unconscious 
 intentness. " You 're perfectly sure," she said, 
 " there 's nothing you can do? " 
 
 " Just one thing," replied the little missionary. " I 
 can clean my slate. And I 'm going to — right now. 
 There's a bit of my wrong side left. It's in that 
 box." 
 
 She slid the cover ofif, and took out a large object 
 wrapped in many thicknesses of cloth. These she 
 carefully unrolled, one by one. " No," she said, with 
 a wistful note in her voice and a faint, sad smile, — 
 " it is n't beautiful, but . . ." And she held up the 
 treasure, slowly turning it around and around before 
 Edith's startled eyes. 
 
 It was a curious piece of pottery — a Bactrian camel, 
 perhaps fifteen inches in height, mounted on a fixed 
 base of the same material. The strong shaggy body, 
 the muscles of flank and leg, the spreading, pad-like 
 feet, were there to the life. The long, sagging neck, 
 fringed with hair, curved up to a head that was thrown 
 back — the mouth open and angry, the eyes flashing. 
 But the extraordinary fidelity of the modeling was 
 even less striking than the rich, glassy, golden-brown 
 color that paled to a creamy yellow on the two humps. 
 
 198 
 
" There 's a bit of my wrong side left. It 's in that box." 
 199 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 If the image had lain, as was possible, for unnumbered 
 centuries in a grave of Shansi or Shensi, it had some- 
 how been protected from earthy incrustations. 
 
 Edith took it in her hands. . . . Oh, that color! 
 Was it brown, after all ; was there not a deep " bis- 
 cuit " red under the glazed surface? It was warm. 
 It glowed. 
 
 " Do you like it ? " asked the little missionary, in 
 a listless voice. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, — " there was a catch of sheer ex- 
 citement in Edith's voice — " my dear, it is — " with a 
 deliberate effort she controlled herself — " it is fas- 
 cinating ! " 
 
 " I want you to have it, then." 
 
 Edith could not trust herself at all now. She said 
 nothing; merely looked at Rhoda Eavesby out of big, 
 humid eyes. But she found no suspicion, no light, in 
 the thin face; only that faint, sad smile. . . . She 
 looked again at the camel. What were some of the 
 distinguishing characteristics of those early dynastic 
 periods — Sung, Yuan, T'ang, even the ancient Han ? 
 But she could only press her lips together again. " No 
 false alarms," ran her thoughts. " Not a word until 
 I know! " 
 
 " I 'm glad you like it," said the Httle missionary, 
 and flitted back to her own room. 
 
 After dinner, when she felt sure that enough time 
 had elapsed to remove any suspicion that she was 
 building up a wild plan of action, Edith remarked: 
 
 "If you don't mind, Rhoda, dear, I will start early 
 200 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 in the morning. Even if it clears up, the roads will 
 be bad. I may need the extra time." 
 
 " I '11 order the litter around for six-thirty, if you 
 say so," replied the missionary simply. 
 
 Edith did a moment's calculating; then nodded. 
 
 They went to bed early ; but sleep was slow in quiet- 
 ing Miss Austin's racing mind. At midnight she was 
 still propped up in bed writing in her diary. This was 
 some relief. 
 
 " I feel like a burglar's apprentice," she wrote. " I 'm 
 living at this minute every known kind of a lie. But 
 I 'm sure it 's right. It must be. They 'd never let me 
 do it if they knew. And then, this way, if I 'm all wrong 
 about it, nobody will be hurt. 
 
 " There 's a train leaving for Chingting and Peking 
 at seven-thirty to-morrow morning. On that train will 
 be Miss Edith Austin, accompanied by a wicker suit-case, 
 a square wooden box, and a very small dog. To-morrow 
 night at this time I shall be in Peking — sleeping, 
 maybe. And unless I 'm greatly mistaken, on the morn- 
 ing of day after to-morrow Mr. Heatherington's old por- 
 celain merchant in the Ha Ta High Street will be trans- 
 acting business with little me." 
 
 It was very romantic and satisfactory, early the next 
 morning, to stand at the compound gate in the bright 
 sunlight and watch the strange, gay little caravan com- 
 ing up the muddy street from somewhere, surely, far- 
 off in the Arabian Nights, to carry her away into the 
 northern hills. The litter in which she was to ride 
 
 20 1 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 was a big Sedan-chair suspended between two mules. 
 It had a curving roof, and latticed windows in front 
 and at the sides. It was covered with bright red and 
 blue cloth. And, delight of delights ! there were tinkly 
 little bells on the saddles of the mules. Then there was 
 a pack animal for her suit-case, a burro for Oldjohn, 
 who was to act as her escort and dragoman, and two 
 hard faced muleteers. As she glanced demurely at 
 these latter persons Edith thrilled with a delicious hor- 
 ror. Surely, between jobs, they were at least brigands. 
 
 She was seated now on cushions in her palanquin -r- 
 Wing cuddled in her lap, the box (her secret) that 
 was to save Shansi, beside her on the cushioned seat. 
 The little missionary, who had insisted on slipping 
 into a kimono and coming down, kissed her good-bye. 
 She had blue rings under her eyes, and was white. It 
 wrung Edith's heart to look at her. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Harbison, who had breakfasted with her, shook hands 
 cordially. 
 
 Oldjohn mounted his burro. The less villainous of 
 the two muleteers raised his whip. Then Mr. Harbi- 
 son, with a sudden recollection, stepped to the window 
 of the litter. 
 
 " Why," he exclaimed, " I entirely forgot to tell 
 you ! I am sleepy. A message reached us just before 
 midnight saying that not three hours after your train 
 came through yesterday, five bridges went out along 
 the railway, or were at least undermined. These soft 
 loess hills are frightfully unstable, you know. It will 
 surely be two or three weeks before they can get any 
 
 202 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 trains through. It is fortunate that you are to be 
 with your own relatives and under such special pro- 
 tection — for you are certainly marooned in Shansi. 
 . . . Good-bye. A pleasant trip ! " 
 
 The muleteers cracked their whips. The mules 
 plunged forward. And the cavalcade swung off on its 
 way to the northern hills, between gray walls of sun- 
 dried bricks and low curving roofs of gray tile, and 
 past early carts of merchandise that crowded close in 
 the narrow way. 
 
 But of her surroundings Miss Austin saw nothing. 
 Her heart had all but stopped beating. Her usually 
 clear if unformed mind was groping in utter bewil- 
 derment. 
 
 No trains! No trains for two or three weeks! 
 And Mr. Simon Blumstein, of the Blumstein-Wilberly 
 group, moving directly (if with some necessary Ori- 
 ental deliberation) toward a private but unassailably 
 official settlement of the little misunderstanding over 
 the Shansi mines. And she herself, with that precious 
 wooden box, to be delivered over to her aunt and 
 uncle before this day's sun should set — no escaping 
 that now ! — to sit by, rebuked, defeated, a mere sad- 
 dened spectator of the quiet little climax to Rhoda 
 Eavesby's life drama that had been, Chinese fashion, 
 fifteen years in the playing. 
 
 But wait a minute ! She sat up rigidly in the sway- 
 ing car, clinging to the sides with tense hands. Was 
 the railroad so necessary ? Did n't the missionary 
 people travel freely all over these interior provinces? 
 
 203 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Surely ! And in the very sort of vehicle which was 
 now hers to command. She sat thinking — thinking. 
 She thought of the wrinkled Oldjohn back there 
 astraddle of that absurd little burro with his toes trail- 
 ing the mud of the street. He was responsible for 
 her; he could not in any circumstances short of death 
 itself evade that responsibility ; but he was also a serv- 
 ant and must obey her. That, she knew well enough, 
 was the Chinese of it. At the worst, it could take only 
 a few extra days. There might yet be time. It would 
 be a wild plunge into the unknown — but there might 
 yet be time! 
 
 They were emerging from the city streets outside 
 the wall into the open country of the Fen Ho Valley. 
 She called to the older muleteer to stop. She had to 
 call again, holding up her hand. He understood, and 
 obeyed. Oldjohn came riding absurdly up to the win- 
 dow with a few extra and inquiring wrinkles on his 
 brown face. 
 
 " No can go this side, Oldjohn," she said decisively. 
 " Go other way. Go Chingting — Peking side. 
 Savvy?" 
 
 Old John's face went blank. His parchment eyelids 
 fluttered. " Go Peking side ! " he muttered ; then 
 shook his head energetically. " No can do ! No can 
 do!" 
 
 But Miss Austin knew her authority too well. She 
 insisted. 
 
 Oldjohn tried to explain; but his shallow well of 
 Pidgin-English ran dry. He stood mute before her, 
 
 204 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 a brown- faced old Chinaman who stammered in sing- 
 song. They had no provisions, no water. There was 
 no folding cot for the lady; and what lady had ever 
 traveled, anywhere, without a folding cot? Did she 
 propose to rest her dainty person on the reproachable 
 kang of the unspeakable Chinese inn ? There was not 
 so much as a change of clothing for himself. It was 
 three days' travel by the highway, even to Pingting; 
 and the roads would be impassable. 
 
 " Go back," he suggested with sinking heart. " Go 
 back. See lady." 
 
 Miss Austin shook her head and frowned. She 
 waved a small hand toward the hills of the east. " Pek- 
 ing side," she said calmly. 
 
 Oldjohn was beaten. Tremblingly he instructed the 
 muleteers. There was sudden argument. Voices 
 were raised. A crowd gathered and swelled the dis- 
 cussion. But Miss Austin simply waited. Finally 
 they turned off on a side road. Oldjohn, muttering, 
 dropped behind. They skirted the city, pausing once 
 or twice while the three Chinese made a purchase of 
 necessaries with Miss Austin's silver at a net profit to 
 themselves of three hyndred per cent. 
 
 They passed the series of forts and the twin pagodas. 
 They climbed slowly, slowly, step by step, hour by 
 hour, into the hills. They were in the sunken roads 
 by noon, floundering along a muddy canyon, ten, 
 twenty, forty feet beneath the cultivated plateaus of 
 the hill-country. They passed camel trains bound for 
 Mongolia, Kansuh, and Thibet, each beast on a string 
 
 205 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 with a ring in its nose. They tangled themselves all 
 but inextricably with mule pack-trains and carts. 
 Long files of donkeys passed, carrying lump coal in 
 woven panniers. They forded swollen rivulets and 
 slipped excitingly on the brink of more than one preci- 
 pice. 
 
 There were quarrels and arguments in the road. 
 There were villages in which naked children and 
 " chow " dogs played and snarled in swarms. There 
 were ragged crowds of riper years that crowded close 
 and shouted at the bold, beautiful white woman who 
 exhibited herself shamefully without escort in an open 
 litter. At times the girl's expressive hazel eyes rang 
 the changes from calm to almost unbearable excite- 
 ment, from trembling timidity to hearty, wholesome 
 American anger. 
 
 But there were moments when she caught whiffs of 
 pear and apple and cherry trees in bloom. There were 
 glimpses of imposing buildings within compounds and 
 surrounded by trees — the only trees in all these bare, 
 terraced, brown hills. Then there were the roadside 
 vendors of cakes and soups and bitter, pulpy fruit, 
 hastening back to their trade- in numbers that matched 
 those of the old days before the railway had soaked 
 up the bulk of the traffic. But railway or no railway, 
 this was still the ancient Peking-Thibet Road, where 
 innumerable camels and mules still churned the mud 
 and ground up the caking dust and helped the vitalest 
 highway of all time to eat its way deeper and deeper 
 down below the fruitful plateaus. And at intervals 
 
 206 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 all day long, while this fascinating pageant of Old 
 Testament life and times was impressing itself with 
 bewildering variety on the quick negative of Edith's 
 young mind, the younger of the muleteers sang, as he 
 plodded along the road or swung himself up to the back 
 of the nearest pack animal, a quavering endless mel- 
 ody. Edith wondered, glancing timidly out at his 
 villainous face, if he were singing of love. 
 
 At about seven in the evening they entered the 
 square gateway of a village inn, and waited in the 
 court-yard. Behind them, shutting off the road, were 
 the innkeeper's house and the solid wooden gates that 
 had closed after them. On the right was a row of 
 cell-like rooms with big windows of paper squares; 
 on the left the low stable wall, over which peered 
 mules and donkeys; directly ahead, closing off the 
 farther end of the compound, stood a higher, rather 
 more pretentious structure reached by a short flight 
 of stone steps. This, she gathered from the gesticulat- 
 ing of Oldjohn and the innkeeper, was to be her abode 
 for the night. Tattered coolies lounged about, study- 
 ing the beautiful foreign woman with insolent eyes. 
 In one corner a little girl was trudging round and 
 round a primitive stone mill, grinding out the mor- 
 row's supply of flour. In another comer an itinerant 
 barber had set down his stool and tripod, and was at 
 the moment deftly scraping the inner side of a young 
 man's eyelid. 
 
 Edith wanted to rub her eyes. Here she was, sud- 
 denly set down in the midst of actual Chinese life, 
 
 207 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS "AUSTIN 
 
 with everything going on naturally and simply as it 
 had gone on for thousands of years. From one of the 
 cells on her right came a haunting minor melody of 
 the Orient played on some sort of reed instrument. 
 "Like the queer wooden things they have in orches- 
 tras," she told herself. At the doorway of another 
 cell appeared a slim, calm young Chinaman, in a blue 
 gown, eating rice from a blue-and-white bowl with 
 chopsticks. "Why, he's positively goodlooking ! " 
 thought Edith. 
 
 Oldjohn appeared now beside her car. With some 
 prodding and much chatter the bearer-mules were 
 brought to the ground. Miss Austin stooped low and 
 stepped out through the window of the litter; and 
 Oldjohn, with much shaking of the head, escorted 
 her up the steps of the building at the end of the court. 
 
 When Edith found herself actually within the 
 structure, and took in the grimy woodwork, the aged, 
 crumbling plaster, the heaps of dirt in the corners, 
 the single bent-wood chair and primitive table, and the 
 brick platform at one end, covered with a square of 
 dirty matting, that was clearly the kang or bed, the 
 excited shine left her eyes and her face blanched. 
 A charcoal brazier, set in a corner, filled the apart- 
 ment with its fumes. For a moment she steadied her- 
 self against the slippery old chair and sniffed 
 the musty, suffocating atmosphere. " It is pretty 
 bad," she thought. But Oldjohn was watching her; 
 still unconsciously shaking his head ; and she collected 
 herself. . 
 
 208 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 For food that evening she had only rice, eggs, and 
 tea, prepared by Oldjohn's hand. She was thirsty; 
 but the local water, she knew, like the vegetables, 
 might easily mean death. 
 
 She was tired from travel, and still more from ex- 
 citement. The eleven hours of swinging and jolting 
 in the litter had left her with an ache for every bone. 
 But she could not look at the brick bed and its brown 
 matting without a sinking of the heart. She dropped 
 into the uncomfortable chair to think. Then, with a 
 sudden rush of timidity, she tried to fasten the door, 
 which hung loosely by one leather hinge. There had 
 once been a latch ; but, like all China, it had fallen into 
 decay. By exerting all her strength and stopping 
 occasionally to rest, she contrived to move the table 
 over against it. 
 
 She returned to the slippery chair. The evening 
 wore slowly on. She fell to dozing off, but was 
 awakened over and over again by the mysterious stir- 
 rings and crunchings of the animals in the open stable, 
 or by the banging of the watchman's gong as he made 
 his frequent rounds to frighten robbers away. 
 
 She had strange thoughts and stranger dreams. 
 Her mind seemed to be escaping all normal bounds. 
 She even found herself wondering if this quaint old 
 land was not, after all, the only world she had ever 
 known, if she herself was not a part of it, if that other 
 region of white folk and paved streets and comfortable 
 houses in elm-shaded streets and schools and parties 
 and pretty frocks and nice boys who took you auto- 
 
 209 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 mobiling — if all this was not a dream, or perhaps 
 something she had read in a book. 
 
 What if the robbers should come! Rhoda had said 
 that the Province was still overrun with them. How 
 about the hundred and eighty whites that had been 
 killed within the Province not a dozen years ago? 
 And what were the hideous faces that came into her 
 dream-vision — brown faces, with horrible mouths 
 and slanting, squinting eyes? ... It was all so 
 strange. 
 
 " Like going into another star," she thought, once 
 when the faces had frightened her awake. " That 's 
 it- — like being on another star. A different kind of 
 people ; a different kind of life. You could never tell 
 them at home. You could n't compare it with any- 
 thing they know about. You could n't make them see 
 it." 
 
 Then, half sick with the poisonous air, she got up 
 and thrust her small fist through every one of the 
 paper squares that she could reach, put her face close 
 to one of the openings, and breathed the sweet spring 
 air deep into her lungs. 
 
 Outside, the moon was shining, just as she had so 
 often seen it shine at home. The court-yard was 
 bathed in the pale light. Now that she could see it 
 all, it seemed very quiet, very peaceful. Even the 
 stirring and crunching of the animals took on a 
 friendly sound. And she went back to her chair and 
 to a sort of slumber, her untrained young imagination 
 stirred by the age-old mystery of the East — of the 
 
 210 
 
THE CAMEL OF- HAN 
 
 peaceable-bloodthirsty, silent-noisy, hideous-beautiful 
 East. 
 
 There were telegraph wires extending in various 
 directions through Shansi Province. One of these 
 wires, that leading from T'ai Yuan to Chief Engineer 
 Greene's compound in the Northern hills was hum- 
 ming and singing at intervals throughout that night. 
 
 For Miss Edith Austin, attended only by an aged 
 Chinese servant and two unknown muleteers, had, 
 while on her way north from T'ai Yuan, disappeared 
 off the face of the earth. At about two hours after 
 midnight the first search-party, in charge of Mr. 
 Greene himself, struck south to rouse every village on 
 the T'ai Yuan road. Within an hour two other par- 
 ties, in charge of young instrument-men, had left to 
 scour the hills, each carrying a trustworthy interpreter 
 and a week's rations on pack animals. At five, the 
 tired, patient, overworked Mr. Harbison started north, 
 with his own servant and an escort of twelve tur- 
 banned soldiers from the Yamen of the Provincial 
 Judge. In his pocket burned and sizzled a long mes- 
 sage from Mr. Wilberly in which that sometimes 
 irascible business man had minced no words in ex- 
 pressing his complete opinion of one particular mis- 
 sionary for sending off Miss Edith Austin alone, quite 
 as if she were one of those young missionary women. 
 
 By six o'clock in the morning the Provincial Judge, 
 the Treasurer, and the Governor himself were as- 
 sembled in the Governor's council room to discuss 
 
 211 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 measures. For the killing of foreigners had come to 
 be an expensive luxury. The resulting indemnities, 
 in a tax-ridden, revolution-despoiled, utterly pros- 
 trated Province, could only come out of the private 
 " squeeze " of these three eminent officials and the 
 lesser ones under their control. More, there was to 
 be considered the delicate nature of those pending 
 negotiations to which the unfortunate young person's 
 uncle, this Wilberly, was a party, and in which " good 
 feehng " and " sympathetic understanding " were 
 considerable factors. Hence the early rising and, be- 
 neath the outer dignity and suavity demanded by 
 official etiquette on all occasions, the inner perturba- 
 tion. 
 
 And all night Mrs. Wilberly lay querulous, moan- 
 ing even, on her bed, while her fat husband walked 
 the floor, ran excitedly outside to hurry up the search- 
 ing parties, walked the floor again. 
 
 Breakfast was not cold before Peking mysteriously 
 knew the story. The New York Herald man instantly 
 bought an exclusive right to the Shansi wires from 
 an obliging official, who promptly sold the same priv- 
 ilege to the Associated Press and to one or two Mid- 
 dle Western papers. The A. P. man, suspecting 
 this duplicity as a matter of course, sent his assist- 
 ant to the temporary end of the railway at Pingting, 
 with instructions to use his judgment on the field. 
 And this last person, eagerly taken in by three lonely 
 young engineers of the North China Development 
 Company (Simon Blumstein, Managing Director) 
 
 212 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 resident at that point, entertained them with tales of 
 the beauty and charm of the American girl whose 
 tragic disappearance had set the civilized world ablaze. 
 " It 's a bigger story than the Rais Uli thing in 
 Morocco; or the American woman that was held for 
 ransom near Salonika. You see, this Miss Austin is 
 a beauty — and popular. A reg'lar nice girl, from 
 home." 
 
 It was late on the second day following the ap- 
 pearance of the A. P. man at Pingting that the young- 
 est of the three resident engineers was riding his 
 Manchu pony at an easy canter toward the village. 
 He was a pleasant-appearing Texan of twenty-five or 
 so. He wore a broad-brimmed Stetson hat, a cordu- 
 roy coat; and knee-high, tight-fitting engineer's boots 
 were laced up over the legs of his trousers. A small 
 Boston bull trotted at the pony's heels. 
 
 The Manchu pony sidled around a tangle of carts ; 
 then shied away from a group of resting camels. The 
 act caused him to brush against a red-and-blue mule 
 litter, that had been just ahead. 
 
 " Here, Singsing," said the engineer, — " what are 
 you trying to do ? Behave yourself ! " 
 
 There was a rustle and a sort of gasp within the lit- 
 ter. A very pleasing voice cried, " Oh ! " The lat- 
 ticed window swung open and a face appeared — the 
 exceedingly attractive face of a girl of twenty or 
 twenty-one, rather pale and forlorn, but with pretty 
 hazel eyes and the beginnings of a shy, startled smile. 
 
 The young engineer stared for a moment in utter 
 213 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 confusion. Then he removed his broad gray hat, and 
 blushed. 
 
 The girl smiled freely now, and brightly. Never 
 in her life had she seen so complete, so thorough-go- 
 ing a blush as that. 
 
 " You — you 're Miss Austin ! " he breathed. 
 
 " Why, yes, that 's my name," she replied ; " but 
 how on earth did you know ? " 
 
 He looked at her in a sort of stupid amazement. 
 " How did I know? " he repeated after her. " Every- 
 body in the world has been looking for you for three 
 days." 
 
 "No — really!" Her brows puckered. "That 
 Rhoda Eavesby must have told," she mused. " But 
 no, she would n't." Then suddenly she shut her lips 
 tight, and glanced down, rather anxiously, at a square, 
 wooden box by her side. " Perhaps you '11 be good 
 enough to show me where the best inn is," she said. 
 " In those other villages I 'm sure I had the worst." 
 
 " I will — gladly," he replied ; and directed the 
 muleteers toward the compound of the engineers far- 
 ther up the hill. 
 
 " And, oh," she cried, catching sight of the bulldog 
 and suddenly remembering, " do you suppose there 's 
 such a thing as a dog-biscuit to be had ? I 've had to 
 feed poor Wing on most any old thing." 
 
 There was an hour of bustle and confusion in the 
 compound on the hill ; then Miss Austin found herself 
 in complete possession of a small house, with a devoted 
 and ancient Chinese woman to wait on her. Dinner 
 
 214 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 " Everybody in the world has been looking for you for 
 three days." 
 
 was brought in by Old John — a curry of chicken, real 
 potatoes, canned peas, canned butter, and coffee — ac- 
 tually coffee! 
 
 It was not until she had insisted with some vehe- 
 mence that she really was n't tired that the four young 
 Americans, who were so delightfully like nice boys 
 from home, permitted her to join them in the living- 
 
 215 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 room, and talk about things back in the States, and 
 listen to Sousa and Harry Lauder and Blanche Ring 
 on the talking-machine. 
 
 The A. P. man accompanied her to Peking the next 
 morning. He offered to carry the wooden box that 
 she handled with such care, but she shook her head 
 and gave him Wing instead. 
 
 He tried at times during the journey to ask a few 
 leading questions. It was a bit difficult to understand 
 why she had taken that extraordinary journey alone 
 instead of joining her uncle and aunt in the hills, as 
 had been planned. But always when he had led nicely 
 up to the subject she would turn her big, demure eyes 
 on him and innocently explain that she had gone out 
 because Miss Eavesby was ill, and had never intended 
 anything but coming directly back. There had evi- 
 dently been a misunderstanding somewhere. Of 
 course, if she had realized how much of a journey it 
 was . . . Still, she couldn't for the life of her see 
 why everybody was making such a tremendous fuss. 
 The missionary girls go everywhere alone. 
 
 As they said good-bye, at the entrance to the Peking 
 hotel, the A. P. man looked thoughtfully at her. She 
 was carrying that box herself, and it looked rather 
 heavy. Wing had been turned over, with the wicker 
 suit-case, to a hotel boy. " There 's a story here some- 
 where," he told himself, " a wonderful story. But — " 
 he glanced at the long straight nose and the odd, firm 
 set to the pretty chin — " nobody will ever get it. Not 
 ever." 
 
 216 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 It was just after tea-time in the big hotel. Miss 
 Austin hurried through the " lounge " without stop- 
 ping to speak to any of the acquaintances who looked 
 up at her with startled eyes as she passed. The Old- 
 hams were in a far corner, but she made a point of not 
 seeing them. Mr. Henry Carpenter, the lanky, 
 shrewd-faced cutch-buyer of Chicago and Borneo, was 
 sitting comfortably back in a big chair, deep in the 
 columns of the Tientsin Critic. She returned his 
 friendly smile with a bright little jerk of her head, 
 hesitated a moment as if designing to speak to him, 
 then hurried on to her own room. She liked Mr. Car- 
 penter. Perhaps he would help her. 
 
 Once in her room she tore off her gloves, picked up 
 a certain quarto work on Chinese Porcelains, and 
 swiftly turned the pages. One of the colored plates 
 arrested her attention. She studied it closely. Then 
 she got the precious parcel from its box, removed the 
 wrappings, propped the book open on the table, and 
 stood the camel beside the colored plate. Unmis- 
 takably, the image and the picture were identical. 
 
 She hastily pencilled a chit to Henry Carpenter: 
 
 Please come out into the corridor, away from the 
 crowd. I want to see you. Very important. Edith 
 Austin. 
 
 Then, and not until then, did she take a few simple 
 measures to make herself presentable after her jour- 
 ney. 
 
 Mr. Carpenter was waiting outside her door when 
 217 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 she opened it. Without a word she handed him the 
 camel. 
 
 He turned it slowly around in his hands, held it up 
 to the light, studied modeling and color, examined the 
 base for marks ; then lowered it and softly whistled. 
 
 " Is n't it wonderful ! " she breathed, in an ex- 
 cited whisper. " It 's a Han piece. I 've looked it 
 up." 
 
 " It certainly appears to be — possibly of the Han 
 time, certainly not later than the T'ang. It is in per- 
 fect condition." He fingered it gently, studying the 
 undertones of the color with the loving gaze of a con- 
 noisseur ; then raised his eyes to hers. " It would n't 
 surprise me, Miss Austin, to learn that it is the most 
 beautiful very old piece in the world." 
 
 " I 've got to sell it, Mr. Carpenter. How much do 
 you think it will bring?" 
 
 He knit his brows. " Almost any amount. It is a 
 perfect specimen. And it is — let me see! — fifteen 
 hundred to two thousand years old. At speculative 
 Fifth Avenue prices . . ." He pursed his lips, cal- 
 culating. 
 
 " Now listen," said Miss Austin. " Will you do 
 this for me — will you take it over to that merchant 
 in the Ha Ta High Street and make him buy it — 
 right now ? There 's simply no time to lose. I 
 would n't ask you, only — only — it 's really very im- 
 portant." 
 
 " Of course," said he thoughtfully, " you won't be- 
 gin to get your price if you try to hurry it." 
 
 218 
 
fh—C'.^ 
 
 ' Is n't it wonderful ! " she breathed, in an excited whisper. 
 " It 's a Han piece." 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 She shook her head. " I can't wait. If you 
 can get from five to eight hundred dollars, gold, take 
 it." 
 
 " But the thing is worth — " 
 
 " I know it, Mr. Carpenter, but please hurry ! " She 
 suddenly smiled, and looked up at him with an excited 
 twinkle in her eyes. " Is n't it dreadful the way I 'm 
 ordering you around ! " 
 
 His face expanded in a lean grin. " Now wait — 
 let 's think a minute," said he. " I don't believe that 
 fellow will pay cash. He '11 want to sell it on commis- 
 sion. I '11 tell you what ! I '11 underwrite it up to, 
 say, eight hundred. Then we '11 let him sell it for 
 what he can later, take out his commission, repay me, 
 and hand you whatever extra there may be. That 
 way, you can have the eight hundred to-night. And 
 — wait, don't object! It 's the safest kind of a spec- 
 ulation for me. If I were buying porcelains, I 'd 
 gladly pay a thousand cash for it, as a pure invest- 
 ment." 
 
 Accordingly, the very next morning Miss Austin 
 sent Old John back to T'ai Yuan, bearing a Chinese 
 draft for eight hundred dollars (less ten per cent, to 
 the Chinese bankers). 
 
 Then she waited. Telegrams passed between her 
 uncle and herself, but these were explanatory and per- 
 sonal ; none related to the business affairs of the North 
 China Development Company. Days slipped by — a 
 week — nearly two weeks. Then, one morning. Miss 
 Austin picked up a copy of the China Critic at the 
 
 220 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 desk, and hit upon the following item, tucked away 
 near the bottom of an inside page: 
 
 Mr. Simon Blumstein and party are reported as about 
 to return from T'ai Yuan Fu, where they have been in- 
 specting the properties of the Company. At the Tien- 
 tsin ofSce it was said yesterday that a mass-meeting of 
 the so-called " Gentry and People " of Shansi was held a 
 day earlier at the Provincial capital, at which was de- 
 veloped so much fanatical opposition to the Company 
 that Mr. Blumstein considers it unwise to press the work 
 at the present time. 
 
 That evening Mr. and Mrs. Wilberly were back, sit- 
 ting at the table with their niece and the Oldhams 
 quite as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 
 
 "My dear child," — this from Mrs. Wilberly, the 
 next day at tiffin — " you 've no idea, all we 've been 
 through ! You did frighten me almost to death. And 
 your uncle feels very badly about it, Edith." 
 
 Miss Austin looked up in some surprise. " Uncle 
 does. Why?" 
 
 " Oh, he thinks that you were hurt by what he said 
 to you, that last evening here, just before we went 
 away. He feels that is why you made that frightful 
 journey back, after you took your sick missionary out 
 there, instead of coming straight to us, as you should 
 have." 
 
 Miss Austin poised her coffee cup in air, and looked 
 inscrutably across it at her aunt. 
 
 " How does Uncle Frank feel about the failure of 
 his business plans?" she asked. 
 
 221 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Oh, more relieved than anything else. Glad to 
 be out of it. He says this is no country for a plain 
 American. The Chinese are too subtle, too — what 
 was the word? — too ' devious ' in their methods. He 
 said only this morning that as a business-man he has 
 sense enough to know when he 's beaten and it 's time 
 to cut losses. And now that he has learned his les- 
 son, he is prepared to start back home and feel con- 
 tented about it. I 'm so glad. I 'm tired to death of 
 living in a trunk. ... I do wish you would try to be 
 nice to your uncle, Edith. It would make him 
 more — " She did not finish. 
 
 There are but two brief episodes to set down here. 
 They seem pertinent. 
 
 Directly after tififin Miss Austin observed Mr. Car- 
 penter standing near the hotel-office, with his hands in 
 his pockets and the faintest suspicion of a smile on 
 his lean, shrewd face. Surmising that he was waiting 
 for herself, she moved casually toward him. 
 
 He glanced about to make sure that they were not 
 observed ; then said, very quietly : 
 
 " Please look unconcerned at what I 'm going to 
 tell you. The camel is sold. I can't find out what it 
 brought — the old merchant won't give up any in- 
 formation about the size of his commission. But he 
 admits a thousand net on our account. That 's eight 
 hundred for me, and two hundred for you. Some 
 kind friend has unwittingly financed your campaign 
 for you. Here is yours — forty-one English sover- 
 
 222 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 eigns and some silver." And he slipped a heavy little 
 bag into her hand. 
 
 The second episode was as follows: 
 
 Late on this same afternoon Mr. Wilberly appeared 
 about the hotel in jocular mood. Edith found him 
 looking at her knowingly, and constantly fighting back 
 a mysterious smile. She began to wonder a little. 
 
 When she and Mrs. Wilberly were seated at the din- 
 ner-table, he excused himself to go on an unexplained 
 errand. On returning, he was rather self-conscious. 
 
 He was hovering near, later, when she said good- 
 night. He even walked down the corridor with her, 
 and hngered at her door. Finally he broke out: 
 
 " You '11 find a little package in your room, Edith. 
 It is n't much. You '11 laugh — I fell for Heather- 
 ington's merchant after all. But he assures me that 
 this piece is not one of Heatherington's, that it has 
 never been out of the country. And that 's one thing, 
 you know, you can take the word of a responsible 
 Chinese merchant. The Chinese are truthful." 
 
 There was a square wooden box on the table. Edith 
 opened it, and took out a thick bundle of soft cloths. 
 As she stripped them off, the lumpy object within felt 
 familiar in her hands. She hesitated. But her uncle 
 was waiting there in the doorway for his thanks. She 
 took off another of the cloths. There was a pound- 
 ing in her temples. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to 
 scream. 
 
 But outwardly she presented a quiet, very charming 
 223 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 picture of girlhood — graceful and slim in her light 
 evening gown, Rhoda Eavesby's wistaria scarf about 
 her shoulders, her arms bare and white, her oval face 
 slightly flushed. She stripped oflf the last cloth; and 
 
 ' Yes," she mused weakly, " the Chinese are truthful." 
 
 there it lay in her hand — her own golden-brown 
 camel, Rhoda Eavesby's camel, the — 
 
 Her uncle was speaking eagerly, from the door- 
 way. 
 
 224 
 
THE CAMEL OF HAN 
 
 " It 's a genuine Han piece. Very fine specimen. 
 There probably is n't another such perfect piece in the 
 known world — certainly not outside the British Mu- 
 seum." 
 
 When she had thanked him as well as she could and 
 he had gone and the door was shut, she dropped weakly 
 on the couch and gazed at the lustrous bit of pottery. 
 
 " Yes," she mused weakly, " the Chinese are truth- 
 ful. . . . And life, take it one way and another, is 
 mixed." 
 
 After which profoundly philosophical observation, 
 she soberly undressed and went to bed, with the quarto 
 work on Porcelains propped against her knees, and 
 Wing cuddled close where he could from time to time 
 lick her hand. 
 
 225 
 
VII 
 
 WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 LITTLE Wing crawled from his basket on the end 
 of the berth, shook himself, leaped silently to the 
 floor of the compartment, and, with a timid glance at 
 his mistress, cocked his very small and very silky head 
 on one side and set forth tO' see the world, via the open 
 door and the corridor beyond it. 
 
 Miss Austin sat curled up on the other end of the 
 berth, following with dreamy eyes the quaint walled 
 villages, the innumerable grave mounds in the little 
 checkerboard fields, and the roadside strings of cam- 
 els and donkeys that drifted slowly by the car win- 
 dow. Behind and beyond stretched the flat yellow- 
 brown expanse that is known as the Great Plain of 
 China. 
 
 She raised her novel as if to read; then lowered it, 
 and sighed. It was rather forlorn business, this dusty 
 thirty-hour journey, with not a soul you knew at the 
 other end of it. She almost wished she had let the 
 white-haired woman from Buffalo go on asking ques- 
 tions at tiffin in the dining-car. Still, those questions 
 had verged on the personal. . . . Then there was the 
 man with the big shoulders and the glass eye who had 
 
 226 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 spoken to her. His voice was curiously low and grave, 
 and he had a rather unusual air of rigid self-control. 
 He was a suppressed man; he whispered. And he 
 always turned his head carefully with his eyes. 
 
 She glanced around. 
 
 " Why, Wing," she breathed, glancing at the empty 
 basket, — " What 's this ! Where are you ? " 
 
 She looked out into the narrow corridor. He was 
 not in sight. She went to the door at the nearer end 
 of the car, past two closed compartments. The door 
 was shut. She returned and went to the farther door. 
 That, too, was shut. And all the compartments be- 
 tween were closed except one. She paused by the 
 door of that one. The curtains were drawn and it 
 was dark ; but it appeared to be empty. 
 
 A minute object stirred on the floor at the farther 
 end. She darted in, dove to her knees, and fished the 
 dog out from under a folded camp-chair. Then she 
 sank back on her heels in sudden and complete con- 
 fusion — for a man was lying on the berth and was 
 staring at her. He raised himself to his elbow and 
 continued staring. Their faces, his and hers, were 
 not more than a foot or two apart. His eyes were 
 big, and a thought wild, and, now that she was grow- 
 ing accustomed to the dim light, distinctly bloodshot. 
 He was a young man, too; twenty-three or four, per- 
 haps; and nice-looking; just the sort of boy one was 
 likely to sit out on the front porch with, back home, or 
 go to parties with. His figure \vas slim under the 
 bathrobe he wore. 
 
 22^ 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 "I — I 'm sorry," she found herself saying. " I 
 did n't know. You see, my dog — " 
 
 " Oh," said he, with a jerky wave of his hand,'" it 's 
 all right. Only I was kind of startled." 
 
 " Of course," said she, getting to her feet and cud- 
 dling the little dog against her chin. 
 
 A man was lying on the berth and was staring at her. 
 
 She looked more closely at him. He had fine, even 
 delicate features, and a high, nicely-modeled forehead 
 that curved back under his wavy hair; and his cheeks 
 and forehead were flushed. 
 
 " You look as if you had a fever," she observed un- 
 expectedly, in a direct, practical tone. " Are you ill? " 
 
 He hesitated. His eyelids fluttered a little. Then 
 228 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 suddenly he gathered his bathrobe about him and 
 swung around to a sitting posture. The movement 
 was so quick and nervous that it made Edith start. 
 
 " What if I am? " he broke out petulantly. " What 
 earthly difference does it make ! It 's a matter of only 
 a few hours, anyway. All I 'm asking now is to be 
 let alone ! " 
 
 Edith, hugging Wing tight, shpped out of the com- 
 partment and back to her own. 
 
 Ten minutes later she was conscious of a shadow 
 across the doorway, and looked up. There he stood, 
 fully clad now; still flushed and still with that odd 
 over-intensity of expression about the eyes. But he 
 was certainly a nice boy, of the sort that you see all 
 too seldom on the Coast. 
 
 "May I come in?" he asked. 
 
 She moved her coat and set Wing's basket on the 
 floor. He promptly sank down beside her on the long 
 seat. 
 
 " There is n't really much sense in my hurrying 
 after you in this way," said he, listlessly. " What- 
 ever happens, it will be all the same," he looked at his 
 watch, " seven hours from now. But I was rude." 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " you were. But then, it 
 was — " 
 
 He interrupted her with a wave of his hand. 
 " You 're going to say it was your fault to begin with. 
 You know it was n't. I wish you would n't waste time 
 being polite. Just be honest. Nobody is. You 're 
 not. I 'm not. But after all, why shouldn't we be? 
 
 229 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 I '11 be honest right now. I have n't the remotest idea 
 why I scrambled into my clothes and came here." He 
 pondered. " Maybe it was because you surprised me 
 so. You 're pretty as the Dickens. And I can see 
 that you 're a nice sort of girl. Like home-folks. 
 I 'm from East Orange — you know, in New Jer- 
 sey." 
 
 " Yes, I know," murmured Miss Austin, conscious 
 of some confusion of mind. 
 
 " At first I thought you were a dream," he ran on. 
 " Then when you were n't, but a regular girl, I just 
 had the impulse to come and talk to you a little while. 
 Do you mind ? " 
 
 " Why, not at all," replied Miss Austin. 
 
 He looked again at his watch. " I won't bother you 
 long — have n't really any time to waste. The reason 
 I decided on ten o'clock to-night instead of this after- 
 noon was to allow for the letters I 've got to viTite. 
 And there didn't seem to be any good reason why I 
 should n't eat dinner. It 's funny. At a time like 
 this you seem to have an almost uncanny sense of 
 order. You get quiet and systematic." 
 
 It occurred to Edith that he appeared anything but 
 systematic. And what on earth was he talking about? 
 He had not looked at her since he sat down; his eyes 
 were fixed on the wooden wall of the compartment. 
 He made her fidgety. She took Wing from his bas- 
 ket and cuddled him in her arms. 
 
 " Have you any stamps ? " he asked, unexpectedly. 
 
 At this she turned and looked full at him; but he 
 230 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 did not so much as raise his eyes. Finally she man- 
 aged to say : 
 
 " Only American ones." 
 
 " They '11 do. Maybe you 'd be willing to take care 
 of my letters to-night. You can mail them in Shang- 
 hai, at the American Post Office. Or right at the 
 Astor House, for that matter. Would you mind?" 
 
 " Why, no, of course not, but — " 
 
 Her voice faltered. But he, in his burning egoism, 
 was quite unconscious of the fact. He had his watch 
 out for the third time, and was unscrewing the back 
 of the case. She watched him, sidelong, holding the 
 little dog close to her face and looking down over the 
 tangled, silky hair. 
 
 The lid removed, he held it up and looked at it. 
 Pasted within it was a snapshot photograph of a girl 
 — ^ just a laughing face, the hair tumbling about it, the 
 eyes squinting a bit in the glaring sun. It was the 
 sort of picture that might have been snapped on a 
 tennis-court or at the wheel of a motor-boat. Across 
 the forehead was written, " To Billy," followed by 
 three small circles made with the pen. 
 
 " It was out at Hopatcong," he said, " just two years 
 ago this spring. She 's smiling. Been smiling at me 
 this way for two years. She said maybe it would 
 help me to fight for her." He handed it to her, taking 
 her interest wholly for granted. " We were to have 
 been married. This summer. I 'm supposed to be 
 starting back now." 
 
 He fell into a silence, staring at that spot on the 
 231 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " We were to have been married. This summer." 
 
 wooden wall. Miss Austin, whose confusion of mind 
 was settling into a queer sort of embarrassment, looked 
 at the picture, then silently returned it. 
 
 She stole another sidelong glance at the boy. It 
 232 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 was a sensitive face. The skin was light in color and 
 unusually fine in texture. He did n't look like the 
 China Coast, where toughness of fiber is the first great 
 requisite in the man who must weave his little strand 
 of life through that bizarre, many-colored fabric. 
 
 He was talking again; in that monotonous, slightly 
 husky voice. 
 
 " I should n't have come. But then, back there it 
 looked like the big chance. I did n't know. I 
 couldn't know — either the Coast or myself. You 
 see, my job would n't support us. And this one, with 
 the New York & Shanghai Export Company — why, 
 I could save a thousand dollars in the two years on 
 my salary alone. And my transportation paid. And 
 then a desk in the New York office. And I was to go 
 out in the world and fight it and lick it, and win a 
 place for her — her William of Orange, she called me. 
 And now — oh, God ! " 
 
 At this point, to Miss Austin's further surprise and 
 concern, he broke down, dropped his head on his 
 hands and sobbed. She leaned back on her corner 
 and looked at him, feeling suddenly cold and com- 
 posed. She had never before happened to see a man 
 cry. She was glad he did it so quietly. 
 
 It occurred to her that people might be passing in 
 the corridor. It would look awkward. Should she 
 ask him to go, or — close the door. She got up, in 
 a matter-of-fact way, stepped around him, and closed 
 the door. 
 
 " I ought to be kicked," he said, after a time, " com- 
 
 233 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 ing in here and bothering you with this. I 'd have 
 been all right if I had n't seen you. But having you 
 appear in that queer way, like a dream, it made me 
 think of . . . And of course it 's no use pretending 
 I 'm myself to-day. I 'm not. Thank God, in a few 
 hours" — he consulted his watch again — "six hours, 
 thirty-nine minutes — I won't be anybody." 
 
 Miss Austin was still leaning back in her comer by 
 the window, still looking intently at him. " Why 
 won't you be anybody ? " she asked. " What are you 
 going to do ? " 
 
 He hesitated only a moment; then replied with a 
 little outburst of relief : — " I 'm going to kill my- 
 self." 
 
 "At ten o'clock to-night?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "You don't think it's foolish?" 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "Or cowardly?" 
 
 " No, it 's kind." 
 
 "Why? How? I don't understand that?" 
 
 " I suppose a girl would n't. You 'd have to know 
 the whole story to judge it fairly. And you could n't 
 know the whole story without knowing a lot of things 
 a decent girl can't possibly know." 
 
 Edith almost said, with some little impatience, " I 
 know more than you think." But she did n't say it. 
 Instead she compressed her lips and looked at his 
 profile without a word. Here it was again, the lie 
 about life; the pretence that woman is made of dif- 
 
 234 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 f erent stuff from man ; the fencing off of a privileged 
 woman class from that arena in which man's character 
 is either made or broken, from the arena that is life! 
 Even this broken boy, on the brink of suicide, clung 
 instinctively to the old tradition. " It 's what makes 
 every honest woman lie to everybody, every minute, 
 just to keep her place as an honest woman," reflected 
 Edith. 
 
 " Why did you say it would be kind? " she asked. 
 
 " Well, — here." For the first time he raised his 
 head and looked squarely at her. She liked his eyes. 
 " You 've heard of men going all to pieces. Well, 
 that 's what I 've done. There 's no getting back of 
 it. And it 's my own fault. The Coast was too 
 much for me — I just didn't have the character." 
 
 His manner was that of one who is explaining 
 gloomily but patiently a difficult problem. His huski- 
 ness increased, and he had to pause every now and 
 then to clear his throat. 
 
 " There 's no public opinion on the Coast, you know. 
 White people run down awful fast, out here. And if 
 you 're supposed to live among them and do business 
 with them, you can't be a prig. You 've got to go 
 the pace with 'em. You 've got to. And you do. 
 There just is n't anything to keep you from it. It 's 
 all queer — everything you believe sort o' goes to 
 pieces on you in your first six months. Why, marriage 
 always meant something to me — it was beautiful, 
 sacred." He gave a bitter little laugh. " But it was a 
 married woman. . . ." 
 
 235 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 He stopped short, flushed, and dropped his eyes. 
 " Of course," he went on, " that was after I 'd begun 
 drinking. And then I did n't care. Something was 
 broken. My faith, I guess. I was gone then. Drink- 
 ing and gambling. I had a notion of winning back 
 a little of the money — our savings! — I had spent 
 and lost. I did worse things, too. It 's a rotten 
 world, I tell you. All these men keep up a wonder- 
 ful blufif before nice women, but they, 're vile. I 'm 
 vile. That 's the worst of it. I 'm vile. They did n't 
 do it to me. It was right in me from the start. I 'm 
 so bad I have no business to be sitting here talking to 
 you. I 'm ashamed of myself for coming here and 
 talking like this. Why " — he shivered and covered 
 his face for a moment — " I did n't dream that I could 
 tell such things to a nice girl ! It just shows what — 
 I 've — come — to." 
 
 " You were going to tell me why it would be kind 
 to kill yourself," said Edith. 
 
 He glanced up, with a sort of impatience, then re- 
 sumed the thread of his explanation. 
 
 " Supposing I had n't come out to the Coast," he 
 said. " Supposing I had scraped together an income 
 and got married, just as I was — she loving me — I 
 thinking I was a fairly average sort of yotmg fellow. 
 Then, some day when I was put to the test, it would 
 have come out. I would know, she would know, that 
 I 'm bad. It would be too late. This way is better, 
 having the test first." 
 
 236 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 " But why kill yourself ? " persisted Edith. " Why 
 not just break the engagement? " 
 
 " I 'd have to give her a reason. No, I won't lie 
 to her about this. And I can't tell her the truth. Be- 
 sides, I tell you, I 'm through. I '11 never be any use 
 again. This way, killing myself, I lookpn it as a surg- 
 ical operation. It will hurt her, but it will remove 
 the cause of a lifetime of trouble." 
 
 Miss Austin let her eyes rove out to the passing 
 landscape. After a moment she became aware that 
 he was still talking. 
 
 " Just to show you what a fool I am, I tried to-day 
 to win back some of that money. I had a hundred 
 and seventy dollars, about, gold. It was the last. I 
 seemed to feel, when we left Peking this morning, 
 that if I could make a killing somehow on this trip, 
 if I could just go home with something of what I 
 was supposed to have saved, why maybe I could figure 
 out some way of facing her. It was silly, of course. 
 But I was half-crazy, and I tried it." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Why, Tex Connor 's on the train, with his side- 
 partner, the Manilla Kid." 
 
 " I don't know Tex Connor." 
 
 " Surely you 've heard of him, the big Shanghai 
 gambler. Great, was n't it — me going up against a 
 game like that. But something inside just drove me 
 to it. It was old-fashioned poker. It took Connor 
 and the Kid just one hour and forty minutes to clean 
 
 237 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 me out. There were two other passengers in on it; 
 he cleaned' them out, too. And then he had the nerve 
 to ofifer me a little back for meals and tips. Oh, it 's 
 amusing." 
 
 "Did he get ail you had?" 
 
 " All but a, few Mexican dollars in another suit, 
 that I had forgotten. I 'm going to spend those in 
 the dining-car to-night. Funny you don't know about 
 Connor. Big man. Whispers at you. Glass eye." 
 
 Miss Austin's eyes brightened. She started to 
 speak, but pressed a slim finger against her lips instead. 
 Then she glanced at her bracelet-watch. 
 
 " It is getting on in the afternoon," she said. " I 
 think you 'd better go and write those letters." 
 
 He looked up at her in some surprise. 
 
 " Be sure to give them to me," she went on, an ex- 
 traordinarily practical little person to his gloomy eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I '11 give them to you." 
 
 " Because I want to see you again and have a good- 
 bye chin-chin before you kill yourself." 
 
 He sat motionless at this, and looked at the wall. 
 Then, slowly, he got up. He hesitated; opened the 
 door ; hesitated again, hand on knob ; closed the door ; 
 opened it again, and went out. 
 
 Miss Austin picked up her novel and strolled for- 
 ward into the dining-car. 
 
 On the Peking-Hankow Express the diner is used, 
 between meals and of an evening, as a club car. It 
 was tea-time now, and nearly all the tables had their 
 quota of tourists. In fact. Miss Austin, standing, a 
 
 238 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 slim, girlish figure, in the doorway, could see but four 
 vacant chairs. Two of these were at the table other- 
 wise occupied by the white-haired woman from Buf- 
 falo who asked questions, and her husband. The 
 third was at one of the single tables, opposite a very 
 military German in citizen's clothes; the only remain- 
 ing one, farther down the car, was also at a single 
 table. The other of the two chairs at this last table 
 was occupied by a man with big shoulders. They 
 had a familiar look, those shoulders. 
 
 She moved slowly along the aisle, squeezing past the 
 bustling Chinese waiters. The white-haired woman 
 smiled at her; but Miss Austin, deliberately failing to 
 see the beginnings of an invitation to sit with this 
 couple, passed demurely on. The German officer 
 glanced up, started, and would have sprung to his 
 feet ; but could not catch her eye. Slowly, as if quite 
 innocently looking for a seat, the girl moved on past 
 the big shoulders, nearly to the end of the car; then 
 turned. 
 
 Her eyes slowly dropped to a point just above and 
 midway of the big shoulders. The head above the 
 shoulders turned, and two eyes, one good, the other 
 glass, met hers. The faintest of smiles touched her 
 girlishly immobile face. 
 
 The big man glanced back, noted the crowded con- 
 dition of the car, met the eager eyes of the German for 
 one flashing instant, then rose. 
 
 " Sit here," he said, almost in a whisper. 
 
 She smiled again, still faintly; and hesitated. A 
 239 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 momentary little blush crept into her face, and out 
 again. 
 
 " It 's all right," said he. " I '11 have my tea 
 brought to one of those other tables." 
 
 She slipped into the chair he held, and glanced up. 
 " You need n't go," she said. 
 
 " Very dusty this time o' year," he murmured, 
 when he had seated himself across the table. 
 
 " Dreadfully," she replied. 
 
 His tea was brought; and, shortly afterward, hers. 
 
 " I don't seem able to get used to seeing men take 
 their tea," she ventured. " It always makes me think 
 of cats and knitting." 
 
 He smiled. " I don't drink anything stronger." 
 
 " Oh," murmured Miss Austin, frankly surprised, 
 —"you don't?" 
 
 Behind her, down the car, a white-haired woman 
 from Buffalo was looking at her with a sudden hard- 
 ening of the facial muscles. A fact of which Miss 
 Austin was unconscious. She slowly lowered her tea- 
 cup, and for a little time looked out the window with 
 knit brows. And the one good eye of the big man 
 studied her out of an expressionless face. 
 
 She turned and leaned forward on the table. 
 
 " I think I 'd better tell you, Mr. Connor," she said, 
 " that I came in here to find you." 
 
 At the sound of his name, a fleeting, barely percep- 
 tible expression of surprise came to the gambler's face. 
 He bent forward, receptively. 
 
 240 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 " You know the boy that played poker with you this 
 morning ..." 
 
 Mr. Connor stiffened up and looked away. 
 
 ". . . well, I 've been talking to him. He 's — I 
 think he 's going to kill himself. I want to do some- 
 thing about it." 
 
 ' The boy that played poker with you this morning 
 he 's going to kill himself." 
 
 . I think 
 
 Mr. Connor flashed his good eye on her so swiftly 
 that he quite forgot to turn his head with it. The 
 glass eye continued innocently staring out the window 
 at the Chinese countryside. Miss Austin suppressed 
 an impulse to smile. 
 
 241 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Friend o' yours ? " he asked, with an edge on his 
 voice. 
 
 She shook her head. " I never saw him before. 
 But I don't want him to do that." 
 
 " How can you stop it? " 
 
 " I want you to play him again and let him win it 
 back." 
 
 Mr. Connor sank abruptly back in his chair. He 
 continued looking at her for a moment; then moved 
 his eyes downward to the table. He took a piece of 
 toast from the rack, broke off six small pieces of crust, 
 and carefully placed them in a straig'ht line across the 
 table. Finally the eyes came up again. 
 
 " He won't do it," said Tex Connor, impassively. 
 
 "If he will, will you?" she asked eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," replied the gambler. 
 
 Miss Austin drank the last of her tea, and set down 
 the cup. To Mr. Tex Connor she gave an open and 
 unself-conscious smile. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. And picking up her book 
 she went back through the crowded car, a little flushed 
 with the excitement of her task. The German's eyes 
 followed her until she disappeared. The white-haired 
 woman compressed her lips, then whispered to her hus- 
 band. Other passengers turned as she moved by. But 
 of this little stir the girl knew nothing. 
 
 A thin young man in a checked suit, an American, 
 with a bronzed, heavily lined face, rose from the extra 
 seat at the German's table, into which he had dropped 
 a moment before, and took the chair Miss Austin had 
 
 242 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 vacated. His glance flitted furtively once or twice 
 to the big man's face. Finally he caught the good 
 eye, and winked. 
 
 " You 're all right, Tex," he said. " Some squab ! " 
 
 "Cut it out, Kid!" said Connor. 
 
 The hands of Miss Austin's bracelet watch had 
 crept around to eight o'clock. It was past dinner-time. 
 William of Orange had not appeared. " This is get- 
 ting unbearable," she mused, putting down her book. 
 " I don't know a word of what I 've been reading." 
 
 She went down the corridor to the other compart- 
 ment and knocked on the closed door. She had to 
 knock again before he opened. He was in his shirt 
 sleeves, his hair disheveled, his face white. She had 
 never seen anybody look so tired as he looked at that 
 moment. The berth and floor were littered with pa- 
 pers. 
 
 " Come in, if you want to," he said, not uncivilly. 
 
 She did so, and closed the door. " Have you writ- 
 ten the letters ? " she asked. 
 
 "All but one." 
 
 " Give them to me." 
 
 " They are n't addressed. Wait." He busied him- 
 self with fountain-pen and envelopes. " Here are 
 three. Perhaps I 'd better do the other after dinner. 
 It 's to rny mother." He drew the back of his hand 
 across his forehead. " I don't seem to be able to say 
 what I mean. My head is n't working very well." 
 He indicated the scattered and crumpled papers. 
 
 243 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " I 've sent my will to — her. It is n't witnessed ; but 
 shucks, I 've nothing to give anybody but a few keep- 
 sakes. And I 'm going to leave a note for the Consul- 
 General at Hankow about my baggage — pin it to the 
 seat here. There are two good trunks up ahead, two 
 suit-cases here, a kit bag, and my rugs. But if — 
 Oh, say . . .!" 
 
 Suddenly, with faltering voice and great, worn eyes 
 that stared up out of a gray face, he had sunk back on 
 the seat. For Miss Austin had torn the three letters 
 in half, one by one, and deliberately dropped them out 
 the window. This done, she stood looking down at 
 him. 
 
 Again he drew the back of his hand across his fore- 
 head. The hand trembled; and beads of sweat glis- 
 tened on the forehead. He tried to say something; 
 but succeeded only in waving that shaky hand a little 
 way toward the window and lifting his face with a 
 despairing sort of question on it. He seemed absurdly 
 like a little boy. 
 
 " We 've been talking nonsense, you and I," she 
 said. " I don't intend to let you kill yourself. Not 
 just yet, anyway. We 're going to try something else 
 first." 
 
 He moved his head slowly from side to side. Then 
 he said, huskily, " There 's nothing else." 
 
 " Yes, there is. You 're to play poker again -to- 
 night. You have at least a chance to win that money 
 back." 
 
 244 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 His lips parted in a bitter smile. " You know bet- 
 ter than that. I 'm cleaned out, absolutely." 
 
 Miss Austin pursed her lips. She had thought, 
 rather blindly, of lending him some part of her own 
 slender funds; but now she suddenly realized that he 
 would never accept it. 
 
 " Look here," he broke out, " you don't mean that 
 you have said anything to Connor? " 
 
 "Wait," said she — "please! Your baggage is 
 worth something, is n't it ? " 
 
 A momentary expression of interest came into his 
 face, and went out again. " Nothing in that," he 
 muttered. 
 
 " Yes, there is." She nodded emphatically. " I 
 don't want to deceive you. I have spoken to Mr. Con- 
 nor." 
 
 " You 've spoken to him . . . ! " he repeated slowly 
 and breathlessly. He stared at her in a queer sort of 
 bewilderment; then slowly got to his feet, pressing his 
 hands to his temples as if they hurt him. He stood 
 there, a tousled, haggard boy in his shirt sleeves, sway- 
 ing with the movement of the car. Suddenly he 
 turned on her. 
 
 "Won't you go?" he begged. She watched him, 
 with that same odd, cold composure ; but her eyes un- 
 expectedly filled until she saw him through a mist. 
 " Won't you go? Can't I just do this thing in peace? 
 You mean to be kind. But, oh — for God's sake 
 go! " And he dropped back on the seat. 
 
 245 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 She shook her head. " No, I won't go," she said 
 shortly, " not while you 're staring mad. That girl 
 has a right to be consulted. I can't let you decide it 
 for both of you." 
 
 " I should n't have told you," he breathed. His 
 head drooped forward; he was biting his nails. " I 'm 
 ashamed. I 'm ashamed." 
 
 The car, that had been rolling easily along at fif- 
 teen miles an hour, became, at this moment, oddly un- 
 steady. It lurched to one side, so violently that Miss 
 Austin was pitched from her camp-stool to the floor. 
 The boy sprang to help her up, as soon as he could re- 
 cover his own balance. He had to lift her and lay her 
 on the long seat. She opened her eyes just as he was 
 about to dash a glassful of water in her face. 
 
 " Don't drown me," she murmured. " It took my 
 breath, that 's all. What on earth is the matter? " 
 
 The car was bumping and lurching along. 
 
 " We 're off the rails," said he. " There 's not a 
 thing to do. Just wait." 
 
 She managed to sit up, bracing herself against the 
 window-casing. The wheels of the car struck some 
 object, then seemed to bound over it. Miss Austin 
 plunged forward, and would have struck the forward 
 wall of the compartment had he not caught her by the 
 arms. 
 
 " Some road-bed ! " he muttered. " Just sit tight. 
 Keep your nerve." 
 
 " My nerve is all right," she replied. " Fimny how 
 quiet it seems." 
 
 246 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 Suddenly he threw his arms around her and lifted 
 her down an incline toward the closed door. The 
 other wall and the window were going up in the air — 
 very slowly, it seemed. Then, with a splintering sound, 
 and a scream from somewhere, the car settled on its 
 side. 
 
 Miss Austin found herself sitting on the door. Her 
 new acquaintance was extricating himself from a heap 
 of hand-baggage and the various loose equipment of 
 the compartment. 
 
 " Well," said he, rubbing his elbow, " I guess that '11 
 be about all for the present." 
 
 She giggled nervously. " I never sat on a door be- 
 fore. And there 's the window in the ceiling." 
 
 " Yes," said he shortly, " that 's how we 're going 
 to get out." 
 
 He stood up and considered their problem. " Do 
 you think you could climb up that baggage-rack? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Then I '11 go up ahead and pull you through the 
 window." 
 
 " Wait," said she ; " first of all, I '11 pass your bag- 
 gage up to you." 
 
 It was but a moment before they found themselves 
 seated on what had been the side of the car, breathing 
 in the cool night air and surveying a scene of wreck- 
 age. Their own car lay nearly at right angles to the 
 track; of the two behind it, one had also overturned, 
 the other had merely left the rails and burrowed a little 
 way into the fine loose soil on which the track was laid. 
 
 247 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 The forward section of the train, consisting of five or 
 six cars, had broken loose and gone on down the 
 track. They could see it now, dimly in the starlight, 
 two hundred yards away. It had stopped, and dim 
 black figures, very small, were dropping off and run- 
 ning back toward them. Some had lanterns, that 
 bobbed up and down. 
 
 Then Miss Austin found herself lowered to the 
 ground and left to watch a little heap of luggage, 
 while William of Orange hurried off, first to bring her 
 own bags and Wing, then to join the score of men who 
 were passing women out through the windows or chop- 
 ping openings through the roof. At one end of the 
 second car appeared a flickering light; and she saw 
 the Belgian conductor running toward it with a cylin- 
 drical fire extinguisher. She saw him snatch an axe 
 from another and chop savagely, then point his extin- 
 guisher into the opening. But the light flickered more 
 brightly, and points of red flame appeared. 
 
 The train was backing down toward them ; she could 
 hear the engine. And the rescuers were shouting a 
 good deal. Women were led past her. Some of them 
 were crying hysterically. Some laughed. A few 
 were carried. The train was stopping now, a little 
 way off. Lanterns were waving in circles. The ex- 
 haust suddenly blew off, thundering through the wide, 
 calm night. 
 
 " How are you ? All right ? " asked a whispery 
 voice at her elbow. She looked up at Mr. Tex Con- 
 nor, and nodded brightly. There was quite a little 
 
 248 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 light now from the burning car, and she could easily 
 distinguish his features. At his elbow stood a man 
 whom she had not seen before, a thin man with a 
 heavily lined face and furtive eyes. 
 
 Just then William of Orange appeared. He was 
 out of breath, and his face was covered with perspira- 
 tion and streaked with soot. He carried his coat on 
 his arm. 
 
 " There seems to be nobody very seriously hurt," 
 he began; then recognized Connor, and stopped 
 short. 
 
 Miss Austin looked at him from under puckered 
 brows. Then she looked at big Tex Connor. Quite 
 unconscious of the pleasing picture she made in the 
 red, flickering light, unconscious of the groups of chat- 
 tering and sobbing women behind her and of the curi- 
 ous, crowding Chinese who had suddenly appeared out 
 of the very soil and were now wandering about look- 
 ing covetously at the scattered heaps of luggage, she 
 took an impulsive step forward. Her lips parted in a 
 nervous, eager smile. 
 
 " Let 's — let 's have that game now ! " she cried. 
 
 Tex Connor nodded. 
 
 WiUiam of Orange bit his lip, and drew back. Miss 
 Austin stepped swiftly to his side and laid her hand 
 on his arm. " You must n't fail me," she said, very 
 softly. 
 
 Connor and the Manilla Kid were improvising a 
 table with two suit-cases. 
 
 The boy shivered a little at the touch on his arm, 
 249 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 and drew the back of a trembling hand across his 
 sooty, sweaty forehead. 
 
 " I can't seem to think," he murmured. "I — I 'm 
 being swept into this." 
 
 " All ready," observed Connor. " We can pass the 
 time, at least. And the light '11 hold for a while." 
 
 Looking dazed, the boy stood by the suit-cases, gaz- 
 ing down at the big gambler who was already shuffling 
 the cards. The Kid was dumping out a box of chips. 
 
 " This is silly," said William, unsteadily. " You 
 can't play poker with only three." 
 
 " You can play with four, can't you ? " interrupted 
 the girl, seating herself on a kit bag at Connor's right. 
 
 "Oh, say — !" cried William. 
 
 " Sit down," commanded Connor. 
 
 The Manilla Kid swept his furtive eyes about the 
 group, and then looked over at the blazing cars. 
 " Some class to this ! " he observed cheerfully ; but was 
 subdued by a flash from Connor's good eye. 
 
 William of Orange sat dejectedly on a catch-all bag 
 that Connor had 'deftly placed there for him. Sud- 
 denly he threw back his head. " Look here," he cried, 
 " there 's to be no handout about this. It 's got. to be 
 straight." 
 
 " Meaning," replied Connor coldly, laying down the 
 pack and looking straight across at him, " that it was 
 crooked this morning? " 
 
 "Oh, no — not that, of course," stammered the 
 boy. 
 
 " Then pick up your cards," said Connor. 
 250 
 
" You can't play poker with only three." " You can play with 
 four, can't you?" 
 
 251 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " I believe," observed William of Orange to the 
 pale and tired but pretty girl who was sitting on the 
 suit-case beside him, " that you are a thousand years 
 old." 
 
 Miss Austin smiled wearily. It was close to mid- 
 night. 
 
 " I don't seem to know just what has happened," 
 the boy went on. " But whatever it was, you did it. 
 And it 's over now, all over. I 'm sure of that." He 
 dropped his chin on his hands, and looked gloomily off 
 toward the glowing line of ashes from which a linger- 
 ing flame shot up now and then. " You don't look 
 twenty — but you 're all of a thousand. You 've 
 talked to me like a Dutch aunt. You 've walked right 
 into my life and straightened it out. I 'm a charity 
 case now." He jingled the gold coins in his pocket. 
 " But perhaps that 's better than being a quitter. It 
 makes me feel sick and ashamed ; but I guess I 've got 
 to face that." 
 
 " It looks like it," said she soberly. 
 
 " And I 've got to go back and face her, too. You 
 were right. I 've got to. It will hurt." 
 
 " It will hurt her," said Miss Austin. 
 
 " That 's what I mean," he explained, unsteadily. 
 And after a moment he went on. " You know, the 
 wonderful thing about it all is the way you understand. 
 Usually folks like you, steady, nervy, well-balanced 
 folks, have no patience with my kind. You know. 
 People with no nerves, that could n't do foolish things 
 
 252 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 themselves. . . . Say, I think your mother is looking 
 for you." 
 
 "My mother!" repeated Miss Austin. 
 
 " Yes, over there." 
 
 Miss Austin discerned the rather plump outlines of 
 the white-haired woman from Bufifalo. Then she said, 
 feeling suddenly forlorn : " That 's not my mother." 
 
 " Why, I thought — she was with you this morn- 
 ing—" 
 
 " I never saw her before this morning," murmured 
 Miss Austin. 
 
 " But — " 
 
 " I 'm traveling alone." 
 
 "Alone! — You?" 
 
 She nodded, compressing her lips. 
 
 He stiffened up, and looked intently at her. She 
 found herself shrinking from his gaze. " You knew 
 Tex Connor," he said, half to himself. 
 
 " No, I did not ! I told you that. I never saw him 
 before, either." 
 
 "Well, what on earth — !" 
 
 " I think," she said, after a moment, " that I '11 tell 
 you. I 'm certain to break down and tell somebody 
 pretty soon, and it may as well be you. I was with my 
 aunt and uncle at Tientsin. They 've gone around the 
 other way to Shanghai, by water." She hesitated. 
 Then — " I ran away from them," she added, while a 
 faint flush spread over her fair cheeks and something 
 between reminiscent interest and sheer defiance lighted 
 
 253 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 her big hazel eyes. She was glad the fire had died 
 down. 
 
 " You ran away ! Oh, you should n't have done 
 that." 
 
 Miss Austin was smiling a very little now. " It 
 was funny," she said. " You know, the Shanghai 
 boat leaves Tientsin after midnight. I went aboard 
 with the party, at ten o'clock or so. But I did n't take 
 off my clothes. And after they were all asleep I 
 slipped ashore with my bags and Wing. My trunks 
 went on with them." 
 
 " But — but — did nobody stop you ? " 
 
 " Nobody in sight but a Chinese steward. Then I 
 had a problem. I could n't very well go back to the 
 Astor House. So I sat on a bench in Victoria Park 
 until morning." 
 
 "On a bench!" 
 
 " Yes. Then after it got light I went over to the 
 railway-station and got a little breakfast and waited 
 for the Peking train. That was yesterday." 
 
 "But then, if that was yesterday" — William of 
 Orange was struggling to control the alarming pic- 
 tures that rose before his mind's eye — " you must 
 have spent last night in Peking ! " 
 
 Miss Austin nodded. " Yes, that was a bore. 
 You see, a lot of people know me at the hotel. I 
 could n't go there." 
 
 " But my dear child — where on earth ! " 
 
 " Dixie Carmichael took me in." 
 
 "You don't mean—" 
 
 254 
 
William of Orange sat in stupified silence. 
 
 " You 're wondering why I did it," said she. 
 
 " Yes. Rather." 
 
 " I 'd just as soon you knew, after all you 've told 
 me. It 's a relief to tell somebody. Aunt and Uncle 
 played a trick on me, and I would n't stand it. Per- 
 haps I am a little hard to manage, from their point of 
 view. Anyhow, they were worried about being re- 
 sponsible for me any longer, and so they deliberately 
 tried to wish me on somebody else. Listen, what do 
 you think of marriage without love? " 
 
 " Why — why — How do you mean ? " 
 
 " From the girl's point of view. The idea seems 
 to be that as soon as our fathers have invested all they 
 can afford in us, we are to be handed over to the 
 nearest man that looks as if he could afford us. My 
 aunt simply can't understand why I don't fall for 
 somebody right off quick." 
 
 " Fall for — " 
 
 255 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Suppose we don't want to marry," the girl rushed 
 on earnestly. " Take me, for example. I don't - — 
 not now. Marriage on the old-fashioned basis " — 
 She compressed her lips and shook her head emphati- 
 cally. " Am I to be thrown at some man I don't love 
 just because I 'm a problem to my elders ? It relieves 
 them, yes. But how about me? And what does it 
 settle? . , . No, I don't see the thing at all." 
 
 " But " — William was groping back toward the 
 " stable truths " of life — " you might learn to love 
 him." 
 
 "Who — Bob? Not likely. And I can't imagine 
 anything more immoral, the way I feel now, than 
 shutting myself in a house with him. After somebody 
 has made it * all right ' by reading at us out of a book. 
 Don't you see? " 
 
 " Not quite," said he. " I don't believe I ever 
 heard anybody talk like this. You frighten me — a 
 little. If you destroy the sacredness of marriage — " 
 
 " I 'm not destroying anything." 
 
 He turned and looked at her. She was, after all, a 
 slender little thing. She was tired, unstrung in fact; 
 a girl, and therefore to be sheltered and protected. 
 She didn't know what she was talking about. And 
 she was on his hands, here at the heart of the Great 
 Plain of China, in the middle of the night, surrounded 
 by gamblers, globe-trotters, and the queerly mixed 
 folk of the Coast. It wrung his heart. 
 
 But she was still speaking. "Bob has wanted to 
 marry me for a long time. I have n't seen him since 
 
 256 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 we left Shanghai, last fall. But he has been writing. 
 Now they 've ordered him home from the China sta- 
 tion — he 's a navy man — and he wrote asking if he 
 might meet us at Yokohama and cross the Pacific with 
 us. The letter was framed so that I could hardly say 
 yes without accepting him at the same time. What 
 could I do? Tell him I 'd marry him, or forbid him 
 to travel by the Pacific Mail. I just could n't answer 
 the letter. 
 
 " But I happened to let Aunt read it. Evidently 
 she talked it over with Uncle; and they worked up a 
 letter to him. It was n't straight. You can imagine 
 how I felt when he turned up — not at Yokohama, 
 but away up there at Tientsin, to take the whole jour- 
 ney with us, a nice little party of four. Expecting all 
 sorts of things. And Uncle Frank was chuckling over 
 it. I spent just one day getting mad, and then I left 
 them " — again that soft little giggle — " left them 
 with my trunks. If they did n't stick on the Taku 
 Bar they 're somewhere near Cheefoo now. Buying 
 laces, maybe." A note of whimsical impudence crept 
 into her voice. " You can get lovely laces at Chee- 
 foo." 
 
 There was a silence. Then — "Why, what is it? " 
 she asked, her voice faltering a little; for William of 
 Orange had sprung to his feet with sudden energy. 
 He stood over her now, looking down with determina- 
 tion written on every line of his figure. By a flicker 
 of light from the last of the burning cars she could 
 see that his face, still with those streaks of soot on 
 
 257 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 it, was firm — stern, even. Her little wave of excite- 
 ment passed, she knew again that she was very, very 
 tired. 
 
 "" What are you going to do ? " she asked weakly. 
 
 " For one thing," he said shortly, " I 'm going to 
 take care of you. Stay right here until I come back." 
 And he stalked away. 
 
 It was a command. 
 
 A big shadow fell before her. She looked up. Tex 
 Connor stood at her side. 
 
 " I was sorry," he said, in that amusing, whispery 
 voice, " to see you lose that fifteen. I could n't play 
 all the hands for everybody, you know." 
 
 " Oh, I did n't mind. It was worth it." 
 
 " Well," said he, noncommittally, turning his head 
 and glancing over to where William of Orange, erect 
 and dignified, was talking with the Buffalo woman and 
 her husband — " maybe it was. Maybe not. The 
 train 's going on pretty soon, the conductor says. It '11 
 be crowded. Say, I thought maybe you 'd let me give 
 you this. Not," he added hastily, " by way of paying 
 you back. But just as a sort of personal memento." 
 And he handed her a small package. 
 
 " Oh," she cried, brightening up, " you should n't, 
 Mr. Connor ! " Then she opened it, and found within 
 a box of Japanese Damascene work, contrived of 
 glistening gold bronze with slender waving rushes 
 of beaten silver on the sides. She held it to the light 
 with dancing eyes; then her face clouded; and she 
 looked up in quick protest. 
 
 258 
 
WILLIAM OF EAST ORANGE 
 
 " Would you mind — er — just keeping it ? " said 
 he. 
 
 She hesitated; looked thoughtfully at him; then 
 smiled. " Yes, Mr. Connor," she said simply, " I will 
 keep it. And thank you." 
 
 " Thank you," he replied. ..." And say, if you 
 don't mind my mentioning it, you can't knock around 
 alone out here on the Coast. There are people that 
 would n't understand. And I just took the liberty 
 of asking that lady with the white hair to take care of 
 you, as far as she goes. Somebody 's got to, you 
 know." 
 
 "Somebody?" mused Miss Austin, ruefully. She 
 heard voices, turned and saw that William of Orange 
 was leading the Buffalo couple toward them. So he 
 had hit on precisely the same solution. " Somebody? 
 Everybody 's doing it ! " 
 
 The gambler did not quite hear what she had said. 
 He bent forward respectfully ; then, as she kept silence, 
 straightened up again. 
 
 " It 's coolish, for May," whispered Mr. Connor, un- 
 expectedly, glancing toward the dying fire and rubbing 
 his hands together. 
 
 Later still. Miss Austin lay in the upper berth of a 
 stufify compartment. In the lower berth the white- 
 haired woman was snoring faintly. And the fraction 
 of a train, with men sleeping foot to head in the cor- 
 ridors, was creeping southward toward the great city 
 of the Yangtze and the Han. 
 
 259 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Miss Austin had never before felt so sure of herself, 
 or so scornful of the timidities and precautions of her 
 elders. 
 
 " Funny thing," she mused. " I was taking pretty- 
 good care of myself, it seems to me. Wonder why 
 it 's never, the good men that are so terribly conserva- 
 tive about women, but the bad ones ? " 
 
 After which sweeping and curiously accurate half 
 truth, she drifted slowly into dreamland. 
 
 260 
 
VIII 
 CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 THE Chinese storekeeper counted out the great 
 heap of gold sovereigns. It took quite a time. 
 Then he swept them into a grimy canvas bag that had 
 Chinese lettering on it in, red, and tied the strings with 
 reverential care. After which, with equal care, he 
 opened the glass door behind him, and put away on 
 a shelf the priceless old pottery camel that Miss Edith 
 Austin had just sold him. The transaction was im- 
 portant, even for that street of important transactions, 
 Nanking Road, Shanghai. 
 
 The girl was surprised at the weight of the bag of 
 gold. " Why," she cried, as she swung it off the 
 counter, "it weighs pounds and pounds!" And she 
 laughed, with a pretty rush of color into her cheeks 
 and a sparkle of sheer excitement in her hazel eyes. 
 " I believe that dear old camel is the luckiest thing 
 that ever happened to me ! " 
 
 " Or the unluckiest," Mr. Henry Carpenter had on 
 the tip of his tongue. But, being a shrewd, reflective 
 man, an experienced observer of human beings on 
 the Coast, where they run rather wilder than common, 
 he seldom let what was on the tip of his tongue get 
 
 261 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 past his lips. And so he was silent now; he merely 
 looked at the slim girl who had the attribute of pleas- 
 ing and alarming him at the same time. 
 
 At the moment she was even more pleasing than 
 usual — and more alarming. She wore a simple 
 white frock, with a loose white serge coat drawn over 
 it, high white shoes (in the British East, whatever 
 the heat, pumps are unpardonable!) and a small hat 
 with a green motoring-veil caught up about it. 
 Against the showcase leaned a long-handled green 
 parasol. 
 
 " And now," she observed, suddenly becoming 
 briskly businesslike, " you and I must settle up. It 
 was dear of you to help me. Let 's see — I owe 
 you for the steamer-trunk, and all those things I had 
 to buy, and my ticket to Naples — " 
 
 Another canvas bag was called for, and all of a 
 pound and a half of the precious metal was trans- 
 ferred to the inside coat-pocket of Mr. Carpenter, 
 where it bulged perceptibly. 
 
 He was looking at her again, in that reflective way 
 he had, with eyelids drooping a little. " I 'm sorry 
 you 're going," he said. 
 
 She glanced up swiftly at him, then away. It was 
 nice of him to be sorry. He was a dear old thing. 
 His business was buying cutch — " and such." So 
 much he had told her. It occurred to her now that 
 she had meant to ask what cutch is. 
 
 " I 'm sorry on your account as well as my own," 
 he added. This stirred some feelings of discomfort 
 
 262 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 within her. He was an inescapable man. He had a 
 way of pinning you down. " I 've helped you because 
 — well, you 're not a child " (this was decent of him, 
 at least), "and if you're determined to go I don't 
 feel that I have the right to stop you. But it worries 
 me." 
 
 " Oh, don't let it distress you," she said, suppress- 
 ing the toss of the head that was meant to go with 
 the remark — for he was an old dear. " I 'm quite 
 an experienced traveler," she added, less pertly. 
 
 " Yes, I know," said he. " I 'm taking that into 
 account. But you 've been in the papers a good deal ; 
 and now you 're doing a very conspicuous thing — the 
 particular kind of thing that is least understood out 
 here. It will come up in a good many ways to dis- 
 turb you. And there may be positive danger^." 
 
 She swung the bag of gold up to the show-case and 
 rested it there, looking at it, while a faint flush shone 
 through her fair skin. So this man was going to 
 talk like the others ! And he had seemed to under- 
 stand. It almost made her want to cry out the pro- 
 test that was stirring in her soul. She wanted to 
 say (for he, unlike the others, was at least intelligent 
 and considerate) : " Well, what if there are dangers? 
 Why should n't I face them ? I hate — hate — this 
 taking for granted that a girl has no character at all ; 
 that she will go all to pieces at the first opportunity! 
 Is n't that what all this sheltering and protecting 
 means? If I 'm that kind, had n't I better find it out 
 right now, once and for all?" 
 
 263 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 But, of course, she said nothing of the kind — 
 merely turned up toward his kindly gaze a face that 
 was beginning to pale a little, and that showed only 
 the faintest signs of her extreme inner turbulence. 
 
 But those faint signs were enough. Mr. Carpen- 
 ter's eyes narrowed again. He spread his feet a lit- 
 tle apart and thrust his hands into his trousers 
 pockets. So he stood for a moment, in deep thought. 
 
 And then, suddenly, he came to a decision. Miss 
 Austin felt it, and wondered, with a flutter of in- 
 terest, what it could be. That it in some way con- 
 cerned herself was certain. 
 
 " I am sorry to worry you," she said gently (she 
 had wanted, at first, to say, " I 'm sorry you don't 
 trust me") ; "but it's the way I feel. And I can't 
 take any. other course. It has been very hard to de- 
 cide. Anything I do is certain to distress either me 
 or somebody else. There are reasons why I simply 
 can't take that long journey home with Aunt and 
 Uncle. I can't ! I 've got to be alone." 
 
 He did not press it further. For a little time he 
 went right on thinking, quite as if she were n't there 
 at all. Finally he said : " Now I 've got to leave you 
 — and it is another thing that worries me. Will you 
 let me do this — telephone the Consulate and have 
 them send a man to go about with you until you 're 
 safe on the wharf, at least? You see," — he caught 
 the shadow that flitted across her face, — " you 've got 
 four or five pounds of gold there, and it wouldn't 
 be any too safe for a man to knock around Shanghai 
 
 264 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 with that amount of money — in a bag — in plain 
 sight. It is too late in the day to change it into any 
 sort of paper. Besides, it 's heavy." 
 
 She inclined her head. " All right," she replied, 
 with the expression of one who is making a large con- 
 cession ; " I will let you do that. And — and I 'm 
 sorry you have to go." She said this very frankly 
 and sweetly. 
 
 " So am I," he replied soberly, " very sorry." 
 
 She hesitated. " Do we say good-bye, then ? " 
 
 " Oh, no." He shook his head. " I shall be on 
 the Bund for the first trip of the tender. If I miss 
 you, by any chance, I shall go straight out to the 
 ship." He was smiling in a way that puzzled her 
 a little. " I '11 call up the Consulate now. And you 
 must wait here until somebody comes to look after 
 you." 
 
 A moment later he was hurrying out of the shop. 
 She followed him as far as the door, carefully taking 
 her parasol, but casually leaving the bag of gold 
 on the show-case. She had once had a parasol 
 stolen. 
 
 She saw him nod to a man who had ridden a bi- 
 cycle to the curb, and pause for a word. 
 
 She did not see him, a little way down the street, 
 leap into the first pony victoria that cruised by, and 
 dash for the German Club, that big white building 
 on the Bund. (It is a reasonably safe guess that when 
 a German steamship agent has finished his day's work 
 he will be found in the immediate vicinity of food.) 
 
 265 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 She did not see' him when, a little later, with passage 
 to Hongkong in his pocket (courtesy of the now 
 cabinless second purser), he whirled around to the 
 cable office and sent off sixty-three dollars' worth of 
 messages. Nor did she see him, at his room in the 
 Astor House, packing a trunk, two suit-cases, and a 
 catch-all bag with the deft assistance of a Chinese 
 body-servant. Mr. Carpenter, it would appear, could 
 move, on occasion, with decision and despatch. 
 
 She did, however, observe the man on the bicycle 
 to whom Mr. Carpenter had spoken. A youngish 
 man he was, and an American. He was looking up 
 at her, steadying himself against the curb by stretch- 
 ing out a none too well shod foot. And her brows 
 puckered slowly into a frown — a frown that 
 deepened, if anything, when he, with some diffidence, 
 raised his hat. Which head-piece was a battered old 
 derby, rather oddly out of season. 
 
 He was a bony man; his Chinese-tailored sack suit 
 hung wrinkled and loose on his frame. His face was 
 not unattractive — not quite. The chin was small, 
 and was gentle, almost soft, in outline; a weak fea- 
 ture, on the whole. The mouth above it suggested 
 extreme sensitiveness; the lips were compressed, as 
 if from a long-standing habit of patient self-sup- 
 pression, and lines curved down around the corners 
 from the sides of his nose. But, beneath the brim of 
 the derby hat, which had settled on the back of his 
 head after his tentative greeting, was exposed a sweat- 
 beaded forehead that was higher and wider than com- 
 
 266 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 mon. And the eyes beneath it were large, blue, and 
 almost disturbingly ingenuous. 
 
 An unbusinesslike person, surely, whose judgment 
 would be none of the shrewdest; not quite what you 
 would call an enterprising man ; the sort on whom the 
 Fates, in idle and ruthless moments, are inclined to 
 play tricks; the sort that does well, indeed, to learn 
 submission. He wore a necktie that was perceptibly 
 frayed at the top where the knot is tied. His shape- 
 less trouser-legs were confined in steel clips. 
 
 While she looked, a creaking passenger wheelbar- 
 row, its proprietor frantically dodging a motor-car, 
 ran into his rear wheel and spilled him over the 
 curb. He arose with dust spots on his knees and 
 a dent in the old derby, rescued the bicycle, and, dodg- 
 ing through the slow-moving current of tourists, 
 white residents, Chinese and Eurasians of various 
 sorts on the sidewalk, leaned the wheel against the 
 store-front. Then, as the girl was still there in the 
 doorway, he stepped up beside her. 
 
 " I 'm sorry to disturb you again, Miss Austin," 
 he began. " But I wonder if — for just a few min- 
 utes — " 
 
 He faltered. For this rather bewilderingly cool 
 and beautiful girl was looking straight at him out of 
 big hazel eyes that had a snap in them, and that ap- 
 peared to be turning brown, or near it, with some- 
 thing very like anger. 
 
 " But I thought," said she, tapping a white toe im- 
 patiently, " that you were not to disturb me again." 
 
 267 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 His eyes wandered away. She was still looking 
 at him, more intently than, in her preoccupation, she 
 knew. Thus she chanced to observe the flush that 
 spread upward from his collar, and the oddly child- 
 like contour of his chin, and the compressed, patient 
 mouth that suddenly quivered with emotion. 
 
 " You surely don't suppose I 'm here from choice," 
 he broke out unexpectedly, — " as if I enjoyed annoy- 
 ing you!" 
 
 It was an out-and-eut personal remark, wholly un- 
 called for, but quite what might be expected from that 
 babylike chin and those big, rather unreal blue eyes. 
 
 Miss Austin's restive foot ceased its tapping, and 
 her frown relaxed a little. Her eyes ranged from 
 the circles of dust on his knees to the absurd dent 
 in his hat. She ought to send him away; she ought 
 to flee into the store, even — or so it would seem. 
 
 "Then why do you annoy rne?" she asked, not so 
 hostile. 
 
 " Because the managing-editor has instructed me to 
 get the Edith Austin story," he muttered, gazing at 
 the fat Chinese policeman out there in the center of 
 the early evening traffic, " and not to come back with- 
 out it." 
 
 " But that is absurd," said she. " There is no 
 Edith Austin story." 
 
 " Oh, yes,' there is," said he. " You did run away 
 from your uncle and aunt at Tientsin — " 
 
 " How do you know that? " she asked, with wide 
 eyes. 
 
 268 
 
^l:*^. 
 
 " You surely don't suppose I 'm here from choice," he broke 
 out unexpectedly. 
 
 269 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Our Peking man happens to be on the boat with 
 them now. Mr. Wilberly has admitted it — we have 
 that by wireless. When a little coaster sticks for 
 three days on the Taku Bar, folks get acquainted 
 pretty fast, you know. And, more than that — " 
 
 "Well, what more than that?" It was her turn 
 to flush. 
 
 Clearly the reporter was going to do his duty, if 
 it blasted him. " Lieutenant Robert Carver of the 
 navy is with them. We have an old picture of him; 
 and the assistant city editor himself got a snap shot of 
 you yesterday — on the street. And we have a big 
 head in type right now." 
 
 "But what about?" asked the girl; then bit her 
 lip. " This is silly." 
 
 " Oh, romance — that sort of thing. Our people 
 hesitate to run the story until we can find the key — 
 the real facts of your disappearance, and how Mr. 
 Carver comes in. My instructions are to find out 
 whether you and he have quarreled, or" — he hesi- 
 tated an instant, then went on doggedly, with a little 
 gulp — " or whether there 's another man." 
 
 " Oh, but surely your paper would n't — " Her 
 voice faltered. The sudden thought that her char- 
 acter was in the hands of this queer reporter person 
 with the stove-in derby hat and the bicycle clips came 
 over her with unsettling force. 
 
 " I know of very few things the paper would n't 
 do," he replied listlessly. " Things have changed a 
 lot out here, since that San Francisco bunch broke in. 
 
 270 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 We 're yellow now, all except the stodgy old English 
 papers. But, even at that. Miss Austin, I 'm afraid 
 you are a story. ' Beautiful young heiresses ' don't 
 so often run away from their folks — all prominent 
 people, you know — and go dashing mysteriously 
 about on their own. Not out here on the Coast." 
 
 She said nothing. How crude he was! And yet, 
 " He 's the honestest thing I ever saw," she thought, 
 in her bewilderment. He was even helping her, in 
 a painful sort of way. That is, if it helps you to 
 know how you look to other people. But painful it 
 was ; and very confusing. She felt weak, for the mo- 
 ment, and stood gripping the long handle of her para- 
 sol with both hands, even leaning on it a little. 
 
 It was now six thirty-five by her bracelet watch. 
 Before midnight the big German Mail ship, lying out 
 there in the muddy Whangpo a few miles below the 
 Bund, would be swinging off on the thirty-day jour- 
 ney to Europe, via Suez. At this very moment a be- 
 lated Hamburg-American coaster was waddling down 
 the Yellow Sea toward Shanghai, sputtering wire- 
 less instructions from an irate uncle to Miss Edith 
 Austin — ordering her, in fact, as if she were a dis- 
 obedient child, to place herself at once for safe keep- 
 ing in the hands of the Consul-General's lady. Two 
 of these messages — little balls of blue and white 
 paper — lay crumpled within the shopping-bag that 
 swung from her wrist. 
 
 And now, just when time pressed most desperately, 
 when her soul was in such a blaze of rebellion 
 
 271 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 that she could n't figure out what on earth would be 
 right to do and what wrong, to have this dreadful 
 newspaper story break over her head like a typhoon 
 — a story she could never, never run away from — 
 not even on German Mail ships via Suez! 
 
 She would n't mind so much if they had n't dragged 
 Bob Carver in, and all that horrid suggestion that 
 was already growing, — ^ spreading like fire, — lashed 
 by the merciless, foully fed tongue of the Coast. 
 
 Perhaps she ought to stay and face it. Perhaps 
 even a seven-thousand-mile scolding from her aunt 
 and uncle — perhaps even seven thousand miles of 
 day-by-day intimacy with Bob, wearing down little 
 by little her independence and her standards, diverting 
 little by little her personal sense of direction in life, 
 until she married, as so many girls marry, in sheer 
 weariness and spiritual defeat, hoping that they may 
 " learn to love " — perhaps even these things would 
 be better than to give high color to the whole miserable 
 story by running away now. There was still time to 
 get her dog and her baggage off the steamer. 
 Launches would be running until ten o'clock or so. 
 
 She did not know that she had turned very white, 
 or that her fingers were still gripping very tightly the 
 handle of the green parasol. Indeed, so intense was 
 her preoccupation with this great central problem of 
 her young life that it was a moment before she quite 
 realized that he was speaking again. 
 
 " I was over at the Consulate just now." For this 
 was what he was saying. " And they 're all stirred 
 
 272 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 up about you. Your uncle has instructed them to 
 hold you here until he arrives. They showed me the 
 message. It seems that you are — well, not quite of 
 legal age yet. They 've picked up the rumor that 
 you are planning to leave to-night by the German 
 Mail, and the Vice-Consul has just sent a man down 
 to the Bund to detain you if you try to get aboard 
 the launch." 
 
 He hesitated a little over it, and looked directly 
 down at her, with a simple kindness that was attrac- 
 tive in a homely sort of way — rather appealing, even. 
 Now that she was no longer the extremely cool, self- 
 sufficient Miss Austin of former encounters, but a 
 white and obviously bewildered little girl, he was los- 
 ing his diffidence. 
 
 She did n't appear to realize that she was still gaz- 
 ing intently at him, not until their eyes met squarely. 
 Which was a bit disconcerting — in a new way. A 
 little color came slowly into her cheeks. She bit her 
 lip again. Then a suggestion of fright came to her 
 face, and she looked hurriedly down the street in the 
 direction of the Bund. And then, in the rapid se- 
 quence of emotions that was racing through her nerv- 
 ous system, the fright gave place to anger — good, 
 healthy anger. So the Consul-General's man was go- 
 ing to " detain " her if she tried to board the launch ! 
 
 Again she looked up at him, and caught her breath. 
 
 " Listen," she said. " I am going to take the Ger- 
 man Mail." 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " To-night." 
 
 " But " — he was fairly staring at her, suddenly as 
 free from self-consciousness as she herself — " they '11 
 never let you get away." 
 
 " I '11 hire a sampan, then. And I '11 go late." 
 
 " But — but — but — but — " 
 
 He was stuttering; and they both laughed a little. 
 
 " Listen," said she. " There 's a man on his way 
 here now from the Consulate. I 've simply got to 
 leave this shop before he comes. And all my money 
 is in there in a bag." 
 
 "In where?" 
 
 " Here in the shop. I must have left it on the 
 show-case." 
 
 "You must have — is it gold?" 
 
 " Yes. Four or five pounds. I 'm a little worried 
 about carrying it. You see, you can't hide it, and — " 
 
 " Why can't you ? That 's only twenty-odd dol- 
 lars." 
 
 " Oh, no," she cried ; " not English pounds ! " 
 
 " You don't mean avoirdupois ? " 
 
 " Yes, or is it Troy ? You see — " 
 
 But he interrupted her by catching her arm and 
 hurrying her back into the shop. 
 
 " Great heavens ! " he was whispering in her ear, 
 as they passed between two seven-foot Ming vases on 
 carved blackwood pedestals. " Four or five pounds 
 — that 's all of — and there 's been any number of 
 people going in and out." 
 
 " There it is ! " said she then. 
 274 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 There it was, still on the show-case, and guarded 
 by the proprietor, who looked as nearly worried as a 
 Chinaman can look. 
 
 The reporter picked it up, and stowed it under his 
 coat. " Come," he said, and took her arm again. 
 
 As they left the shop, he looked back along the 
 street and caught sight of a rickshaw, half a block 
 away, in which sat a languid young man with a white 
 topee on his head and a bamboo stick between his 
 knees. " Quick ! " breathed the reporter. And he 
 rushed her along close to the buildings, at a speed that 
 caused a stifif -necked Englishman, two drunken sailors, 
 and a Hindoo merchant to turn and look after them 
 — after the bony reporter with the stove-in derby and 
 bicycle clips, and the slim, pretty girl with excited 
 eyes. 
 
 " They 've sent young Patterson," he said, as they 
 rounded the corner into an alley-like little street. 
 " We '11 let him wait a while." He chuckled nerv- 
 ously. " There 's a lot of rather good blue-and- 
 white in there for him to look at, if the time hangs 
 heavy; and some cloisonne." And he dragged her, 
 between a walk and a run, a little way up Kiukiang 
 Road, through another alley, around three quiet cor- 
 ners, past the Parsee cemetery; and finally let her 
 pause for breath on the more populous Canton Road, 
 while he hailed a victoria. 
 
 " We 'd better not risk separating in rickshaws," he 
 explained. 
 
 "But — " She was out of breath, and her voice 
 
 27s 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 faltered. " But are you — You 've been very good 
 — I must n't trouble you." 
 
 He looked at her; then turned away, with a gulp, 
 and made a show of watching the carriage as it 
 wheeled around to the curb. His sensitive lips were 
 compressed very tightly, and there was a pained, al- 
 most a hunted expression about his eyes. Suddenly 
 he looked at her again, very determined now, and a 
 little wild, like a man who has just made the boldest 
 decision of his life, and who is headed, full steam, for 
 deep waters. 
 
 She shrank back. He frightened her. 
 
 " I 'm going to see you through," he said, with that 
 low, nervous laugh. " You leave Shanghai to-night 
 on the German Mail ! There 's my hand on it ! 
 We '11 let the uncle rage and the Consul-General 
 imagine a vain thing. Get in. The first thing is for 
 you to have food. We '11 drive arotmd behind the 
 race-course and out Bubbling Well Road. We have 
 a little time to kill. And nobody will look for you out 
 there." 
 
 She had let her hand drift into his. After all, why 
 not ? It was only for a few hours. He could n't 
 be thinking of himself, in the usual masculine way, 
 for he was pledged to the task of sending her off. 
 And he was n't a man you could be afraid of for 
 long — not with that sad, gentle mouth, that made 
 you want to take care of him, and the dust spots on 
 his knees that he had n't even thought to brush off. 
 
 She stepped into the low carriage and sank back on 
 276 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 the seat, he swinging in after her, and shouting some- 
 thing to the mafoo in Chinese. 
 
 She laughed softly. 
 
 "What is it?" said he. The mafoo was cracking 
 his whip over the shaggy Manchurian pony. 
 
 " I did n't know you could talk Chinese. It sounds 
 so funny." 
 
 At this he became very grave, and a little white 
 about the mouth. He made no reply. She won- 
 dered. 
 
 They rolled swiftly around just outside the wide 
 turn of the race-course and into Bubbling Well Road, 
 the lively, rather dubious street of the enchanting 
 name. It was alive with motors, rickshaws, and car- 
 riages. Prosperous Chinese hong merchants rode in 
 a sort of state; flashy gentlemen, patrons perhaps of 
 the gambling houses out this way ; painted girls, white 
 girls, superbly gowned, at sight of whom Edith felt 
 something tighten within her, and her thoughts raced 
 with a curious wonder; a dozen British sailors hilari- 
 ously pulling rickshaws, while their coolies sat with 
 frightened grins on the seats behind them; rougher 
 characters, riding and afoot; discharged American 
 soldiers from the Philippines ; schemers, swindlers, and 
 outlaws from everywhere in the world; stranded vic- 
 tims of the wanderlust, who were here because they 
 couldn't get away; even, here and there, the ragged 
 " beachcomber " of traditional fiction. 
 
 "My goodness!" said Miss Austin, sitting erect. 
 
 " What ? " cried he, nervously looking about. 
 277 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 " Your wheel — you left it there in front of the 
 shop." 
 
 He started at this, even looked disturbed; and let 
 one foot slide down to the step of the low-hung 
 vehicle. 
 
 " We can go- back there," said she — " or nearly 
 there. You could slip around and get it." 
 
 He hesitated a moment longer. She could not 
 make out the conflicting emotions on his extraordi- 
 narily open face ; but he hardly looked like a man who 
 could afford to lose a bicycle. 
 
 Then he perplexed her still more by throwing back 
 his head and laughing. He laughed too loud, so that 
 people in passing vehicles looked across at them. 
 
 And they drove on. 
 
 " I wonder if this is all perfectly dreadful? " mused 
 Edith aloud. 
 
 He looked up from his American steak (he had or- 
 dered lavishly) and regarded their queerly assorted 
 fellow diners. It was in a restaurant well out on 
 Bubbling Well Road. At the next table sat four 
 men who could not possibly have been anything in the 
 world but gamblers, one of whom, a thin man with a 
 deeply lined face and a livid purple puff under one 
 eye, had a familiar look. Just beyond them were 
 two Europeans, over-red as to face, with two of those 
 very elaborately dressed " American girls " from 
 Soochow Road. On the other side was a rougher 
 group, inclined to drink rather persistently of Japan- 
 
 278 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 ese-made champagne in genuine French bottles, and 
 further incHned, with equal persistency, to eye Miss 
 Austin and her escort. In a corner, a group of 
 sailors — " Always they sailors," paraphrased Edith 
 — were singing under their breath the extremely 
 British comic song recently popularized on the Coast 
 by the Purple Mysteries — " They Pushed Him 
 through the Window." 
 
 " It is rough," said he, in reply to her remark of 
 a moment back. " But then, all Shanghai eating- 
 places are that. The only difference is that some are 
 dressier." 
 
 " I did n't mean the restaurant," said she. " Still, 
 it is right. I 've got to go. I could n't stay here." 
 
 At this he grew moody. " Shanghai is n't a very 
 good place to stay." 
 
 " Only for short trips," she observed ; then added 
 impulsively : " Think, think of the poor people that 
 get stranded here and have to stay." 
 
 An instant later she could have bitten her tongue 
 off; for his eyes had drooped and that odd whiteness 
 had come about his mouth. 
 
 " Oh," she murmured in confusion, " I did n't 
 think; but you haven't had — " 
 
 " I 've been here nine years," said he, very quiet. 
 
 " But you 've been back — you 've had trips — " 
 
 He slowly shook his head. " It 's eleven years next 
 month since I 've seen the home town ; or any of my 
 folks." 
 
 She did not know what to say. Tears came to her 
 279 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 eyes. He was so sort of crushed — and so patient 
 and sweet about it. How he must feel, sometimes, 
 watching other Americans come and go; gay and ir- 
 responsible; throwing money around, while he strug- 
 gled to keep barely alive! His clothes did look like 
 that. And he had n't even a proper hat for the hot 
 weather — nothing but that absurd old derby. 
 
 " Under the spreading chestnut tree 
 The village smithy stands; 
 The smith a mighty man is he — 
 
 But they pushed him through the window ! " 
 
 The British sailors were drunker now, and louder. 
 Merrily they bellowed the refrain : 
 
 " The win — dow ! 
 
 The win — dow I 
 They pushed him through the window ! 
 
 With the muscles of his brawny arms 
 They pushed him through the window." 
 
 The reporter sat looking moodily at the table-cloth. 
 After a little time he drew from his inside coat pocket 
 a bundle of " copy " paper that was scribbled in pen 
 and pencil on both sides. 
 
 " I 've had dreams," he said, in a voice that was 
 growing husky. " But I guess we all have those. 
 For five years, off and on, I 've tinkered at this thing 
 here. Once — that was two years ago — your friend 
 Carpenter showed it to a big New York manager who 
 was out here. But he said nobody 'd be interested in 
 Chinese opera; said they'd think of laundrymen." 
 
 280 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 " Oh, it 's an opera ? " said she, looking with in- 
 terest at the closely scribbled sheets. 
 
 " A libretto — sort of between comic and romantic. 
 It 's called ' Mary and the Mandarin.' I 've tried to 
 catch some — even a little — of the color and charm 
 there is out here. Oh, if you could only make 'em 
 feel it!" 
 
 " I know," murmured Edith, thinking of camel 
 trains in sunken roads and gray old walled villages 
 and winding brown valleys where pear trees blos- 
 somed. " I know. If you could only make them 
 feel it ! 
 
 " You see," he went on, with a frankness that was 
 too simple and honest to bd wholly depressing, " it 's 
 the only chance a chap like me has of ever getting 
 back — making a sudden killing of some sort. And 
 sometimes, when I realize that I may never even have 
 that one glimpse of the old town, I sort o' lose my 
 nerve. I tried the lottery for a while. And little 
 pecks at the pari-mutuel. And then this opera. 
 Working nights, you know. For three years it looked 
 like a sure thing to me ; the lovely Chinese color would 
 have been new stuff on Broadway. But that mana- 
 ger sort o' discouraged me, I guess. And then, if you 
 stay here too long, you get like the Chinese — your 
 mind turns gray, and you lose your energy. It 's 
 only lately that I 've taken it up again." 
 
 He had leaned forward on the table. Now the bag of 
 gold, which he had placed in his lap, slid off, and 
 struck the floor with a solid thud and a chink. 
 
 281 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 The bag of gold slid off, and struck the floor with a solid thud 
 and a chink. 
 
 Both started. Their eyes met. Nothing but a 
 bag of gold coins could possibly have made just that 
 sound. 
 
 They looked down. There it lay, on the floor be- 
 side the table — the old canvas bag, tied with strings 
 and with Chinese characters on the side in red. 
 
 282 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 The sound had been heard by others. The gambler 
 persons were staring down at it ; one of them whisthng 
 softly. A painted girl with gay, roving eyes lifted 
 her glass to them and laughed. The Chinese waiter 
 retrieved the bag, frankly surprised at the weight; 
 held it up rather conspicuously; restored it to the re- 
 porter's lap. 
 
 They were silent for a few moments, conscious that 
 many eyes were taking them in. Then he grew moody 
 again. And memories came to him. 
 
 " Japan is lovely at this time," he observed. " And 
 earlier in the spring. Nine years ago this month I 
 was in Yokohama. Was headed for home, but 
 could n't get any farther. Say, did you ever take a 
 rickshaw ride over the Blufif to Mississippi Bay? " 
 
 She never had. 
 
 " There was a tea-house there. The usual cherry 
 blossoms. And a little girl. I used to sit there by 
 the hour, watching the 'torpedo-boats practise, and 
 trying to teach her English. Wrote my ' Mississippi 
 Bay' song out of that." He was looking eagerly 
 among the loose sheets. " But say, I must n't bore 
 you with this." 
 
 " Go on," she said softly. " Tell me more." 
 
 " Here we are ! The onjenoo sings it — Mary's lit- 
 tle sister. There 's the usual verse. Starts like this — 
 
 " On Mississippi Bay, 
 Over Yokohama way. 
 In a sampan. 
 In Japan, 
 
 283 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF. MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Sat a little maid afloat 
 
 Where the shadows hid the boat — 
 
 O Sakada, 
 
 Sakada San! 
 
 "There's some more of it — reg'lar sentimental 
 story, you know — and then this chorus. I always 
 sort o' liked it." He cleared his throat, which was 
 husky again, and blushed a little; then recited in a 
 low singsong, beating out the rhythm softly with his 
 finger-tips on the table-cloth: 
 
 " Come back, Yankee Sailorman, to Mississippi Bay ! 
 A little heart is beating, 
 A wistful mouth is greeting; 
 The cherry blossoms droop so. 
 
 The petals slowly fall; 
 The white-faced tourists troop so 
 Beyond the tea-house wall. 
 Come back, Yankee Sailorman, and anchor with the 
 tide — 
 Trail your flag of red and white. 
 Spread your stars above my night. 
 Come you back to Mississippi Bay ! " 
 
 Edith straightened up and drew in a quick breath. 
 " Why," she said gently, with a sparkle in her eyes, 
 "it's good!" 
 
 He blushed again, like a child. " You like it ? 
 It's all rough, of course, more like notes, but — 
 Now, here! The first act is the courtyard of the 
 Wagon-lits hotel at Peking — as it used to be, before 
 
 284 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 they built the new part across the front. Chorus of 
 girl tourists trying on Mandarin coats. Native mer- 
 chants, hotel boys, rickshaw runners — so forth. 
 With the color and glitter of the coats, it would be 
 beautiful, you know. The girls sing : 
 
 " Mandarin girl in blue. 
 Mandarin girl in red — 
 
 Mandarin girl, 
 
 With dimple and curl. 
 Tossing her dainty head! 
 Mandarin girl in silk and in satin. 
 
 Pattern of golden swirl, 
 Fascinate Muscovite, Teuton, and Latin — 
 
 Fancy-free, wanderin', 
 
 Teasin', philanderin'. 
 
 Dear little Mandarin girl ! 
 
 " You have to force the rhymes a little ; but then, 
 as I said, it 's just rough stuff. Now, then — oh yes, 
 this! It has a swing, sort of. You know," — 
 he beat the air with a long forefinger, — " tumpy-tee- 
 tum, tee-doodle-dee-oodle ; tumpy-tee-tum-tee-doo ! 
 It 's part of a solo : 
 
 " A girl is a girl in kerchief and sabot, 
 A girl is a girl in plaid ; 
 
 In trappings from Turkey and things Singalese; 
 In trumpery, frumpery trinkets from Greece; 
 Thinner or fatter, 
 It does n't much matter, 
 Or whether she 's tiny or tall — 
 
 285 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 and on like that. Oh, I left out a couplet. Well, 
 never mind ! You see, Mary's mama 's trying to find 
 — well, here 's the song — 
 
 " Mary's mama searched the Peerage, 
 Mary's mama read up Burke — 
 
 " Oh no, wait ! The second verse explains it : 
 
 " Mary's mama very rich is ; 
 
 Mary's mama searched with might; 
 Met rebuffs, delays, and hitches — 
 Title market very tight. 
 
 Other Marys' mamas had 
 Captured every titled lad. 
 
 " Then the girls' chorus : 
 
 " Mary, Mary, quite contrary. 
 What do you think of that? 
 
 No title found 
 
 Anywhere round, 
 From Berlin to Ballarat ! 
 Mary, Mary, were you wary — 
 
 " This same rhythm comes in at the end of the 
 song, where it runs: 
 
 " If catch proper prince no can. 
 Why not catchee Chinaman? 
 
 " Mary, Mary, quite contrary. 
 What will you ever do. 
 Dining in state 
 Off willowware plate. 
 Munching your split bamboo ! 
 286 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 Mary, Mary, light and airy, 
 Flirting your silken fan; 
 You must kotow — 
 
 and so on — like that." 
 
 Edith reached out and rested a hand on his as it 
 rummaged through the scribbled sheets with the fever- 
 ish energy' of the creative soul. He started at the 
 touch, looked up, and, slowly collecting himself, saw 
 that her lips were parted in an excited smile and that 
 her eyes were shining. 
 
 " If you don't stop giving me just snatches, this 
 way," she was saying, " I don't know what I '11 do 
 to you. Why, it's lovely. I had no idea — you're 
 a perfect old fraud ! Now, Man, I want you to begin 
 at the beginning and read me every word. Every 
 word, mind ! " 
 
 " Oh," said he, his face alight with the utter happi- 
 ness of the poet who finds himself appreciated, " I 
 was afraid, you see — " 
 
 " Do as I tell you ! " commanded Edith. " Read it 
 all!" 
 
 Accordingly, he read it all. All, that is, except the 
 big duet, " Maskee means never mind." He had ap- 
 parently lost it out of the lot of sheets. Maybe it 
 was home somewhere, kicking around. " It 's where 
 the lovers have to part," he explained. 
 
 " It 's after nine," said Edith, looking at the watch 
 on her wrist. "And I could just cry. But, if I 'm 
 going — " 
 
 287 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 He was too deep in the work of his heart of hearts 
 to come to earth in a moment. At the reminder that 
 this wonderful evening must end, he sat and bHnked at 
 her. Slowly the radiance died out of his face, until 
 it had ranged the whole distance from glory to gloom. 
 He looked at her with an intensity that fastened her 
 eyes to his and made her hold her breath. He low- 
 ered his gaze to the scattered papers; then took 
 to marking a Chinese character on them with his 
 pencil — all over them. In the quarter-hour that fol- 
 lowed, with only an occasional disconnected phrase 
 spoken by either, he must have made that character 
 fifty times, the same queer character each time. " It 
 looks like a conventionalized spider," thought Edith. 
 
 She began to realize that she was tired; and this 
 protracted reaction of his was a strain. 
 
 " So you write Chinese, too?" she ventured. 
 
 " Yes," said he, without looking up. And again 
 he went white about the mouth. 
 
 A few more minutes passed. Then, suddenly and 
 shortly, he pushed back his chair, stuffed the wad of 
 scribbled sheets back into his pocket, and rose, the 
 bag of gold in his hand. 
 
 " Come on," he said huskily. " We '11 go." 
 
 Almost timidly she followed him — literally fol- 
 lowed him — out. He called a carriage. They 
 dashed off along the electric-lighted road. 
 
 Another carriage followed them. He turned and 
 looked back at it. And at the same time he gathered 
 
 288 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 her little hand rather roughly into his own and held 
 it firmly. 
 
 " I 've been a dam' fool," he said, as if he were 
 thinking aloud. " Lost my head completely. I think 
 we 're going to have trouble. I 've exposed you to 
 every kind of a row, God knows ! " 
 
 He released her hand long enough to tuck the bag 
 of gold between them on the seat, then deliberately 
 recaptured it. And she let him. 
 
 " How 's your nerve? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh," — her voice faltered, — " I '11 do my part." 
 
 " Tired — are n't you? " 
 
 " Well — a little. But you won't be ashamed of 
 me ; I '11 keep up." 
 
 He bent his head and spoke very low in her ear: 
 " It has just struck me — this mafoo of ours does n't 
 look right. In those two hours after I dropped the 
 bag they could have framed up anything on us. God, 
 think of it! A man who knows this town as I do. 
 And responsible for a woman's life. I was in- 
 sane ! " 
 
 " No," she whispered ; " you were n't insane." 
 Her hand tightened around his fingers. 
 
 " The Manilla Kid was at that next table. He 
 must have gone out very soon after I dropped the bag, 
 for there certainly was another party there later. 
 And the Kid 's too coarse even for Tex Connor. Tex 
 turned him off only last night — beat him up, too. 
 At the Alcazar, it was. Watch, now. That other 
 
 289 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 carriage is behind us. Will you hold yourself ready 
 to do everything I tell you? " 
 
 " Everything," she replied. 
 
 " Well, then — " They had passed the race-track 
 and were approaching the business section. He stood 
 up, holding on to the back of the forward seat, touched 
 the mafoo, and pointed to the right, down a side 
 street. 
 
 The mafoo hesitated, glanced over his shoulder, 
 then obeyed. 
 
 Edith caught the arm of her escort. Under the 
 wide, curving straw hat, and above the blue Chinese 
 gaberdine, she had glimpsed the profile of a Caucasian. 
 
 '■' He 's white," she whispered. 
 
 The reporter nodded. " You never saw shoulders 
 like that on a Chinaman. Those were army shoulders 
 once." 
 
 The other carriage swung around the corner, half 
 a block behind. They turned other corners, and rolled 
 swiftly through darker, narrower streets. From the 
 changing character of buildings and shops, they were 
 apparently nearing the native city. The reporter was 
 on his feet at every turn, talking in crisp Pidgin Eng- 
 lish to the mafoo. Once the masquerader turned, and 
 Edith saw the shine of sweat on his cheek and chin. 
 And steadily the other carriage followed. 
 
 Suddenly the reporter reached back and seized the 
 bag of gold. Again he spoke to the mafoo. They 
 rounded a corner. The reporter, holding hard and 
 swaying on his feet, raised the bag in his right hand, 
 
 290 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 measured his distance, and swung it against the side 
 of the mafoo's head, just under the brim of the big 
 hat. 
 
 The ntan made no sound; merely sHd off the seat 
 and tipped endwise over the footboard, striking the 
 pony's rump. His body must have blocked the wheels, 
 for the carriage stopped abruptly. 
 
 " Jump ! " said the reporter. 
 
 Edith leaped out. He followed, gripped her arm, 
 and led her on a run into a placid little Chinese shop. 
 She had only time to be conscious that a group of yel- 
 low men were gazing mildly at her over their long 
 tobacco-pipes before she found herself running up a 
 flight of stairs — narrow dark stairs with creaking 
 boards. They hurried around a narrow hall and up 
 a second flight. She had to wait while he raised a 
 scuttle, then followed him out on a flat roof. He 
 closed the scuttle swiftly but silently. 
 
 " Step lightly," he said. On tiptoe they crossed 
 from roof to roof, climbing over low walls. 
 
 " I 'm afraid I hit that fellow too hard," he said, 
 as he helped her over one of the walls. " But I 
 could n't have him telling where we went. And those 
 Chinamen '11 never tell anything that spells trouble. 
 You can trust John." 
 
 One house was a story higher. He lifted her in his 
 arms. She caught the edge of the roof, and he 
 gripped her ankles and swung her over as easily as if 
 she had been a little girl. 
 
 It was this taller house that they entered, passing 
 291 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 She caught the edge of the- roof, and he gripped her ankles and 
 swung her over. 
 
 down two flights to what must have been the second 
 floor. " Stand here," he whispered. "I — I am 
 known here." And she waited in the pitch-dark 
 
 292 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 stuffy hall while he opened a door and disappeared. 
 She heard low voices. In a moment he was back. 
 She had a glimpse of him while the door was open, 
 then lost him in the dark, and put out her hands and 
 felt for him. 
 
 He slipped his arm about her shoulders and guided 
 her to another stairway. There was something hard 
 and metallic in his hand; it pressed against her shoul- 
 der. 
 
 There was a dim light in the lower hall, a rush wick 
 floating in a cruse of oil. He put the metallic object 
 into his coat pocket, then held up a man's raincoat for 
 her. 
 
 " Get into this," he said. " You 're too white." 
 
 The rain-coat enveloped her. She had to hold it 
 up to keep from tripping over it; and the sleeves fell 
 to her knuckles. 
 
 He nodded approvingly. " That 's better," he said. 
 
 They went through a long passage, and emerged on 
 the creek that is the north boundary of Frenchtown. 
 
 " Now," he said, " if you 're up to it, we '11 hike 
 right along. We 're all clear, so far." 
 
 They crossed a bridge and went through to the moat 
 of the Native City; then for half a mile followed the 
 long curve of the wall. Finally they came out on the 
 French Bund, where there were lights and a slow- 
 moving street crowd of Chinese and French, and be- 
 yond, the open space of the river, and the red and 
 green lights of the ships, and the clustering, matting- 
 covered sampans at the water's edge. 
 
 293 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Straight to one of the larger of the sampans he led 
 her. It had a sail of matting, and was moored by a 
 single line. He handed her in, tossed the boatman 
 a handful of Mexican dollars, cast off the line, and 
 leaped in with it. The boatman shouted and gesticu- 
 lated as the clumsy craft drifted out in the tidal cur- 
 rent. From under the cabin of matting peered the 
 moon-faces of a native woman and a pack of children. 
 Nearer at hand a half-naked baby lay asleep, coiled 
 in a large earthenware crock that kept it clear of the 
 water in the bottom of the boat. 
 
 The boatman continued his protest with growing 
 excitement. He caught the rail of another sampan, 
 that was moored to the shore fleet. The reporter 
 uttered a few emphatic sentences in the native tongue, 
 then turned toward Edith, who had seated herself at 
 the stern, and tossed the bag of gold down beside her. 
 It fell with that same solid thud and chink. 
 
 He had done it again. Again their eyes met. 
 Faces appeared in the neighboring sampans — in- 
 scrutable slanting eyes that peered through the faint 
 light ; loose yellow lips that chattered in singsong. 
 
 The reporter was again talking in Chinese, talking 
 with a good deal of emphasis. The argument was 
 extended until a curious little crowd gathered on the 
 quay. Edith tried to make herself as small as pos- 
 sible. She took off her hat, and turned up the collar 
 of the rain-coat. Finally two other boatmen climbed 
 over into the sampan — stalwart fellows, stripped to 
 the waist, their yellow skin glistening in the electric 
 
 294 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 light from the shore. The moon-faced ones were 
 bundled over on to the shore fleet. The white man 
 himself passed over the earthenware crock with the 
 bare little infant still curled within it in slumber. 
 
 The two new-comers went forward and got out the 
 sweeps. The owner crawled around behind his pas- 
 sengers and took the tiller. The little craft drifted 
 out clear of its fellows and swung around to the north. 
 
 The sweeps moved lazily to and fro. An occa- 
 sional light breeze came over the water, rippling it just 
 enough to shiver the clear reflections of the lights into 
 a thousand glittering, wavering fragments, and filled 
 the ribbed sail of matting until it creaked lazily on the 
 mast. And the half-naked men at the sweeps sang a 
 jerky, rhythmical chantey as they worked. 
 
 They slid past the two old opium hulks, out there 
 in mid-channel, with their shingled gable roofs. They 
 passed a Chinese torpedo-boat, a Japanese cruiser, a 
 tramp from Norway. He pointed out the sights of 
 the Bund, where the lights flickered softly through 
 the trees and the faint sounds of the evening traffic 
 came out to them. He had drawn her tired little 
 head down on his shoulder, and was holding it there. 
 
 " I want to hear the duet," she said softly. " Don't 
 you suppose you could remember the words ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " I don't want to," he said, 
 and held her tight against him. " They are parting, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes," she mused dreamily — " I know." 
 " She clings to him. He tells her to be brave. Says, 
 
 295 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 ' Maskee, we will wait.' She does n't understand. 
 He sings, ' Maskee Means Never Mind ' — never mind 
 the heartache, never mind the — " 
 
 His voice broke; she felt him shiver. Then he 
 bent down and drew her face up to his and kissed 
 her lips. Her hand stole up to the lapel of his coat, 
 slipped around his neck. Again he pressed his lips 
 to hers. No man had ever kissed her like that. 
 
 There was a stir and a movement directly behind 
 them, within the sampan, that neither of them heard 
 or saw. 
 
 Coughing and pounding along from the Bund, the 
 steam tender of the German Mail came up from be- 
 hind and passed them, sending a series of swells that 
 gently rocked their craft. Neither knew it. 
 
 "I 'm not going to ask if you love me," he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 She buried her face against his coat. 
 
 " No," he went on, close to her ear, " I don't seem 
 to care. It won't matter after this hour. But it is 
 my big hour." His voice broke again; and he whis- 
 pered unevenly, " My big hour. I 've loved you 
 from the minute I saw you. I could n't stand it. I 
 could n't stand it. I 'd live for you — and I 'd 
 die for you. I 'm dreaming. It has all been a 
 dream." 
 
 He could just hear her rriurmur, " Then I 'm dream- 
 ing, too." Her head fell back on his arm. She was 
 looking out under drooping lids at the wide, silent 
 river. 
 
 296 
 
CHINESE EOR TROUBLE 
 
 " I 'm bewildered," she said, a little later, sitting 
 erect and pressing her hands to her eyes. " I don't 
 want to go to that ship. I want to stay here. Oh, 
 you don't know how strange this is ! I 'm different. 
 I 'm all changed. Nothing that I thought seems to 
 be so." 
 
 He took her in his arms again. 
 
 " Yes," she went on, breathless ; " it 's all changed, 
 all new. Suppose I don't go. I '11 take you away 
 from this dreadful city. We '11 go to Yokohama, you 
 and I. And we '11 ride in rickshaws to Mississippi 
 Bay!" 
 
 She laughed, softly and excitedly, and nestled closer 
 within the grip of his arm. It was amazing, this sud- 
 den discovery that back of her restlessness and her 
 resentments surged daring thoughts and great wild 
 forces. 
 
 "If you only knew what you 've done — what this 
 means ! It 's queer. It bewilders — " 
 
 "What's that!" he muttered shortly, and sat up 
 rigid. " What 's that! " 
 
 He looked behind him. The helmsman was not 
 there. The sweeps were still. There was silence 
 forward — broken only by the pad of naked feet in 
 the dark of the matting cabin. There was silence 
 again, then a rustling. 
 
 He glanced swiftly around. They had left the 
 lights of Shanghai around a bend ; the " Paris of the 
 East" was now only a yellow glow in the sky. On 
 either shore were the low fields of the open country- 
 
 297 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 side. A mile or so ahead were the lights and the dim 
 outline of a big liner. 
 
 Again they caught that rustling in the cabin. 
 
 " This means trouble," said he. He had taken his 
 arm from about her and was fumbling for something 
 in his coat pocket. " It may be the end of us," he ' 
 added, more calmly and with some bitterness. " I 've 
 failed you again, it seems." 
 
 "No, no," said she; "you haven't — you 
 have n't ! " 
 
 " That 's about the size of it. But I '11 tell you this " 
 — he was leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the black 
 semicircle under the arch of matting. " If I get you 
 through all right, just remember that one man has 
 loved you with all — " 
 
 She stopped the words with her own soft mouth. 
 She was sobbing a little, and the tears were running 
 unheeded down her face. 
 
 For an instant he pressed her slim body against his 
 own; then tore her arms away and swung her partly 
 behind him. 
 
 " Is the bag there ? " he asked, never shifting his 
 eyes from the cabin. 
 
 She was searching. " No — I can't find it." 
 
 " That devil got it all right. Look out ! Lie down 
 behind me ! " 
 
 There was a swift rush from that black archway. 
 His automatic pistol was up on the instant, spitting 
 bullets in a stream. One man dropped. One leaped 
 back. The third came staggering toward them, nearly 
 
 298 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 fell over the reporter, and caught at the girl's arm to 
 save himself from going over the side. He had a 
 knife in his hand. The white man had to hit him over 
 
 There was a swift rush from that black archway. His auto- 
 matic pistol was up on the instant, spitting bullets in a 
 stream. 
 
 the head and then kick him clear of the rail. He 
 dropped, with a quiet little splash, and disappeared. 
 
 The reporter stood over the cabin, and called in 
 Chinese. Slowly the last native crawled out, empty- 
 
 299 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 handed. The reporter sent him back. This time he 
 brought the bag of gold. The reporter tossed it back 
 on the seat by the girl. " It seems to be all right," he 
 said. 
 
 She examined it, and replied : " Yes, I think it 's 
 all here." 
 
 The yellow man crouched near the side of the sam- 
 pan, visibly shivering with fright. The reporter 
 looked at him thoughtfully, with lowered weapon. 
 
 " There 's a Chinese crew on that ship," he mused, 
 " and we don't want stories told. After all, I don't 
 know that one more makes so much difference." 
 
 Accordingly, he shot this last one through the head, 
 and rolled his body over the side. 
 
 The bugler of the German liner had blown his last 
 note of warning. The final calls of " All ashore ! " had 
 resounded from deck to deck. The steam tender whis- 
 tled repeatedly as it swung ofif; passengers crowded 
 the rail, waving handkerchiefs and shouting farewell 
 messages. 
 
 A little later, when the tender was no more than a 
 dark spot with twinkling lights above it at the end of 
 a long lane of white foam, a sampan slid up unob- 
 served to the companion ladder. 
 
 A girl stood at the side. A white man held the lit- 
 tle boat close to the grating. 
 
 "Quick," he said. "Jump!" 
 
 " What if I should n't — " she breathed. 
 300 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 " For God's sake ! " said he, in a voice that he could 
 not control very well. 
 
 "But wait! What on earth are you going to do? 
 How can you go back ? " 
 
 "Maskee! Maskee! Get aboard. They '11 be haul- 
 ing this thing up in a minute." 
 
 A moment longer the girl hesitated. Very white 
 she was, in costume and face. She bent her head 
 toward him; but he said nothing, merely devoted his 
 strength to keeping the clumsy craft from swinging 
 off with the tide. Finally she stepped over on to the 
 grating. In one hand she carried a green parasol, in 
 the other a bag of gold that was not quite dry on one 
 side. 
 
 She paused a moment to draw down her veil, casu- 
 ally setting down the bag on the grating as she did so. 
 Then she went on up the ladder, rather slowly. 
 
 She was vaguely conscious that a German quarter- 
 master was shouting down the ladder. On the prom- 
 enade-deck the inevitable little German band was toot- 
 ing its farewell to the port of Shanghai. There was 
 a great stir and movement of gaily dressed passengers, 
 a general air of irresponsible security. 
 
 She did not hear his voice until he was directly be- 
 hind her, nearly at the top of the ladder. 
 
 He was quite out of breath. " Quick," he said, 
 " they must n't see me ! But I want you to have this." 
 And he thrust the familiar wad of copy paper into her 
 hands, just a mass of loose sheets that, with the bag 
 
 301 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 of gold and the parasol and her wrist-bag to manage, 
 she could hardly keep from blowing away. 
 
 " It 's my whole story," he went on rapidly. " It 's 
 all there. What was n't there I wrote on it to-night 
 — at the restaurant. My whole story." 
 
 He turned and ran down the long ladder, two steps 
 at a time. At some point in their troubles he must 
 have lost his hat, for he was bareheaded now; but 
 the bicycle clips still confined the bottoms of those 
 shapeless trousers. 
 
 Wearily, feeling very, very old, she went on to the 
 deck, where no one appeared to notice her particu- 
 larly, and then found her cabin below. 
 
 Her plan was to go directly to bed ; but she could n't. 
 Instead, she straightened out the heap of papers with 
 a gentle hand and crowded them into her shopping- 
 bag, and went back to the promenade-deck. She 
 wondered, as she mounted the stairs, what it was that 
 he had written — that spidery Chinese character. 
 
 There was some excitement out here, it seemed. 
 The brightly clad passengers had crowded to the rail. 
 An unmistakably German voice, somewhere aft, 
 was booming out orders. But the passengers were 
 hushed. 
 
 She edged in just behind a party of women. One 
 of these proved to be a kindly old lady with white 
 hair and with a sort of horror on her face. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Edith. "What has hap- 
 pened ? " Her voice sounded small and strange. 
 
 It was a moment before the old lady could find her 
 302 
 
CHINESE FOR TROUBLE 
 
 own voice ; then she replied, " Oh, my dear ! It is 
 dreadful. A man is drowned." 
 
 It was half an hour later that she encountered Mr. 
 Carpenter. She was walking back and forth, a soli- 
 tary little figure in white, among the shadows at the 
 rear of the promenade-deck. He came slowly along, 
 his head bowed, moodily smoking a cigar. 
 
 He asked no questions — merely gave her a long 
 look of relief, and stood by her at the rail, watching 
 the dim, low shores. It did not occur to her to ask 
 why he was here. It was a long time before she could 
 frame the question that was in her mind. She man- 
 aged it finally by opening her shopping-bag, taking 
 out a few of the loose sheets, and holding them up in 
 the light of one of the electric deck lamps. 
 
 " What does that Chinese mean ? " she asked. Her 
 voice was natural enough; but, oh, how old she felt! 
 
 He took the papers in his hand and studied them 
 closely. It was good of him to take her having them 
 so for granted, for he knew all about them. 
 
 He looked up, and thoughtfully flicked the ash off 
 his cigar. " That," he said, " is an old Chinese char- 
 acter meaning — " 
 
 He stopped short, and looked down at his cigar. 
 
 " He said it was his whole story," she broke out im- 
 pulsively. " I think he wanted me to know." 
 
 " Well, then," Carpenter went on, " it is the old 
 ideograph representing, literally, two women under a 
 roof. And it means trouble. It is the Chinese for 
 
 303 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 our word ' trouble ' . . . The poor boy had a Chinese 
 wife and several children." 
 
 Later, after he had made her walk for a while, he 
 said, in a refreshingly matter-of-fact tone : 
 
 " The purser is still up. This would be his busy 
 night. I really think you 'd better turn your gold 
 over to him and take a receipt." 
 
 Miss Austin, her green veil covering a sad white 
 face, obeyed. 
 
 304 
 
IX 
 THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 I SHALL never marry," said Miss Austin. And 
 she said it rather sadly. 
 
 Henry Carpenter, in the next steamer chair, con- 
 tinued to gaze soberly out over the calm surface of 
 the China Sea. 
 
 " Then," he replied, a few moments later, " I shall 
 leave the ship at Hongkong." 
 
 "Oh!" the soft exclamation escaped the girl. 
 " But that will be to-morrow ! " 
 
 He nodded. " To-morrow. I had to come this far. 
 I had to ask the question. You have been honest with 
 me. And you know your own mind." 
 
 The girl bit her lip. If there was one thing above 
 all others in the world that she did not know, it was 
 her own mind. Unexpected complexities lay in that 
 quarter. 
 
 " I like you — bushels," she murmured. 
 
 He nodded again. " I know you do. But it would 
 have to be more than that." 
 
 Tears came to her eyes. Which was absurd enough. 
 She turned her head and looked aft past the long 
 rows of drowsy, white-clad persons in steamer chairs 
 to where the second cabin deck house was rising and 
 
 •'305 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 falling with the gentle swell. She had come to be 
 fond of this man. He was steady. You could count 
 on him. . . . Why could n't she bring herself to feel 
 that wonderful impulse toward hirti that people call 
 love? Everything would be so simple then. He was 
 considerate, gentle, intelligent; he would make a won- 
 derful companion. But there was no magic between 
 them — not now, at least. For a fluttering moment 
 the question rose in her confused mind — " Is mar- 
 riage magic, after all? Or is it, at its best, a steady 
 companionship? Could magic last?" . . . She had 
 treated this man outrageously since the ship left 
 Shanghai. She had been moody, capricious, even 
 sulky — how really sulky, disturbed, downright be- 
 wildered, he would never know. 
 
 " I 've changed," she said, in a voice that was steady 
 enough. " I 'm different." 
 
 When he replied to this, it was merely to say — 
 
 " We all change." 
 
 " I don't believe you do," said she, gazing down at 
 her clasped hands. 
 
 He smiled a little. He made no reply. 
 
 The deck steward brought tea. They sipped for 
 awhile. 
 
 She found herself wishing wildly that this man 
 would be more determined. Even vehemence from 
 him would be a relief. Why did n't he make her 
 marry him! He would be what the observant world 
 would regard as an ideal husband for such as she. 
 But there was a touch of bitterness in this thought. 
 
 306 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 She became conscious that he was looking at her with 
 a gentle gravity, and made an effort to bring her racing 
 mind under control. 
 
 " I don't want you to leave the ship at Hongkong/' 
 she said, under her breath. 
 
 " I 'm sorry," said he. " I 'd like to be your friend. 
 But I 've gone too far. I could n't. go on giving you 
 a little of my life. I must give you everything now 
 — or nothing." 
 
 It was rather wonderful that he should want her as 
 much as that. It seemed to her that she did n't de- 
 serve it. And he put it so simply, with such re- 
 serve. 
 
 " You see," he went on, almost apologetically, " I 
 may appear steady enough — " 
 
 " You do," she murmured. 
 
 " — but an experience Hke this really tears one up 
 dreadfully." 
 
 She rested a light hand on his arm. " I know. I 
 could n't have understood a week ago. But now . . ." 
 
 " I would go on to Singapore," he continued — " I 
 would try to be your friend, just your friend — if I 
 could trust myself, if I thought I could keep my bal- 
 ance. But it would n't do for me to make a failure 
 of it." 
 
 " I don't know what to say," she broke out. " I 
 seem to have lost the power to think. When it comes 
 right down to the thought that you are actually going, 
 and I 'm not to see you any more or have you to de- 
 pend on — well, I just don't want you to go ! I seem 
 
 307 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 to need you. Maybe I do love you. How can I say ! 
 I don't know what love is — what it ought to be. . . . 
 Oh, why do these questions have to come up! Why 
 do we have to be torn and disturbed this way! I 
 used to enjoy everjrthing — now I don't enjoy any- 
 thing. And I did n't want this. I only wanted to 
 be let alone." 
 
 " That," he observed, with a slow shake of his 
 head, " is probably the one thing none of us, can ever 
 hope for." 
 
 "To be let alone?" 
 
 " We are all a part of the tangle of life." 
 
 " It is a tangle ! " she breathed. 
 
 " Listen ! " she said, a little later. " I 'm not going 
 to let you go at Hongkong. If you '11 only come on 
 as far as Singapore, I '11 promise to make up my mind, 
 There — there 's nothing to prevent it." She sighed. 
 " Nothing — nothing else." 
 
 Over his lean face flitted an odd, momentary smile. 
 It was what would perhaps be called a wry smile. 
 What a child she was, after all ! And what on earth 
 were you to do with her ? There was n't anywhere in 
 her adorable little head a glimmer of light as to what it 
 must mean to a responsible business man to drop 
 everything and disappear for a fortnight. 
 
 He shook his head. " No, Edith, I don't see how 
 that would make the decision any easier. No — I 
 will drop off at Hongkong." 
 
 " But," she protested, " that 's — we 're almost 
 there now — why, to-morrow you will be gone ! " 
 
 308 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 He inclined his head. Edith bit her Hp again. 
 
 Then two expatriates from Yokohama stopped be- 
 fore them and talked with some enthusiasm of the 
 sights of Canton. It was nearly an hour later before 
 Edith could slip away to her cabin — ostensibly to 
 dress for dinner, but really to sit on her berth, cuddle 
 Wing in her lap, and gaze moodily out the open 
 port. 
 
 She had slipped out of her dress and into her kimono 
 — the kimono that had been admired by Rhoda 
 Eavesby, the little missionary of Shansi who had loved 
 beautiful things. Edith looked soberly down at it, 
 and herself fingered the Kioto embroidery as the de- 
 voted missionary had fingered it. Tears came to her 
 eyes. 
 
 Outside the port the oily tropical ocean slid end- 
 lessly by. Now and then, as the ship rolled gently 
 down and the horizon moved deliberately upward, she 
 could see the little black flying fish skimming over the 
 surface. 
 
 No, she did not want Henry Carpenter to leave the 
 ship at Hongkong. Until now she had never been 
 for long far from friends or, at least, relatives. This 
 man was the last tie that bound her to the world of 
 reality, and now he was permitting her to plunge on 
 into a new, bewildering Hfe — all alone. 
 
 The alternative was to surrender her life to his in 
 marriage. The tears came again. She held Wing so 
 tightly that he wriggled a protest. It was n't fair of 
 Henry Carpenter to put the choice to her in that way. 
 
 309 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Why, it was exactly what Bob Carver had done — 
 the thing she had run away from ! Come to think of 
 it, it was what men always do! 
 
 She thought again of Rhoda Eavesby. Rhoda had 
 forsworn marriage to devote her life to serving her 
 less fortunate fellows. There was something to be 
 said for that choice. It was hard ; it was rough ; you 
 had to surrender all that is pleasant and easy in life; 
 but it did surely bring a fine sense of independence. 
 
 Thinking of this, Edith found herself caught up in 
 quite a little glow of enthusiasm. She almost decided 
 to become a missionary. That the ship was bearing 
 her steadily and swiftly away from Rhoda and her 
 kind, that she herself lacked almost utterly the equip- 
 ment in general education and special training, ap- 
 peared, for the moment, merely rather vague and un- 
 important details. 
 
 But the vague and unimportant details grew clearer 
 as the moments passed. Soon they were asserting 
 themselves with considerable force. The single small 
 detail that Rhoda could read, write and speak Chinese 
 gradually magnified itself in her mind. Why, that 
 one little accomplishment meant years upon years of 
 study ! 
 
 Once or twice before in her young life,, when con- 
 templating revolt from the shackles of family life, 
 Edith had considered breaking out into the great 
 rough world and " doing something." And now, as 
 on those former occasions, it was the consciousness of 
 her own utter lack of solid equipment that baffled her. 
 
 310 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 You had to be trained for years before you could do 
 anything. 
 
 Edith drew no conclusions from this fact. She did 
 not' dwell upon the plight of the American girl in 
 general — trained only to be charming at the expense 
 of somebody else. She only felt uncomfortable, and 
 confused, and more than a thought resentful. 
 
 But on this occasion there was a new factor in the 
 situation, a factor of which she was quite conscious. 
 Heretofore, in dwelling on these problems, firm in 
 the untried courage of youth, it had not so much as 
 occurred to her to doubt her own triumphant progress. 
 But now . . . something had happened. Vivid pic- 
 tures rose before her mind's eye. She saw herself 
 again at the shop on the Nanking Road, surrendering 
 her camel, and receiving in exchange the bag of gold. 
 She saw herself in a carriage, with a young man who 
 wore bicycle clips and a derby hat. She lived through 
 that odd little scene at the restaurant on Bubbling Well 
 Road, where the young man had read his verses to 
 her with a flush on his cheek and a light in his eye. 
 The rest of it came rushing up then to the surface of 
 her thoughts^ — the ride in the sampan; that dream- 
 like scene of death; wild kisses on her lips, on her own 
 young lips. . . . 
 
 She fought these memories back. They bewildered 
 her. But she could not altogether conquer the new 
 misgivings that were these days eating at the founda- 
 tion of all that had been solid in her habitual attitude 
 toward herself. 
 
 3" 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Henry Carpenter was really solid. She had clung 
 to him; but he was leaving her now. 
 
 Her Uncle and Aunt, even, were solid. They 
 seemed to have arrived, at least, at a sort of working 
 understanding with life. You did n't feel, in thinking 
 of them, that they were upset and bewildered about it. 
 For a moment, at this stage, she even lost confidence 
 in her judgment in running away from them. 
 
 Her ticket on this ship read to Naples. That was 
 nearly a month away — a month of tropical seas and 
 palm-shaded ports — and nothing to do but rest in 
 steamer chairs and think about yourself. It had not 
 occurred to her before to fear this journey — not until 
 now that Henry Carpenter had definitely decided to 
 leave her. She thought that it would be better if she 
 had something to do right away. She was afraid of 
 inactivity, and languor, and of what she might think 
 and feel. 
 
 With a sudden determination, she put Wing aside, 
 got up, and set about dressing for dinner. If the 
 time had at last come when she could not trust herself 
 with her own thoughts, very well — she would seek 
 refuge in activity. The choice was hers, right now, 
 to marry; and to marry, as the phrase runs, "well." 
 But she would not marry in weakness. She would 
 not marry for sanctuary. That many, many girls, 
 behind a masking pretence of eternal love, do pre- 
 cisely this, she knew very well. And she thought it 
 dreadful. 
 
 Above all, she would not marry because the man — 
 312 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 this one man she had thought a real friend — offered 
 her the flat choice, in the spirit of what seemed to her, 
 at the moment, almost a threat. No, she would meet 
 him squarely. She would confront him, steady of 
 eye, firm of speech, mistress of herself. In the morn- 
 ing the ship would dock at Hongkong; they would go 
 ashore — very likely he would ask her to a parting 
 luncheon — but he would stand firm, and so would she. 
 
 When Miss Austin entered the ship's dining room 
 more than an hour later, a hundred pairs of eyes fol- 
 lowed her along the aisle to her seat at the Captain's 
 table. For her head was high. There was color in 
 her cheek. She wore a gown of dull blue chiffon cloth 
 made over white silk, embroidered heavily in gold at 
 the bottom of the narrow skirt and with a touch of 
 gold at the shoulders. On her pretty feet were gold 
 satin slippers and silk stockings to match. Bound 
 about her fluffy hair was a broad gold band. And 
 she carried, carelessly on her arm, a wonderful old 
 mandarin coat, about which, evidently, the costume 
 had been built. It was of a dull, gray-blue silk, this 
 coat, embroidered heavily in self -tones with touches 
 of pink and white, and with great daring swirls of 
 gold over-embroidery. The lining was white silk. 
 
 She passed Henry Carpenter, who smiled in friendly 
 but grave fashion, with a jerky little bow that had 
 in it more evidence of pride than she dreamed. 
 
 After dinner they had coffee on deck, he and she. 
 It was harder to be natural than she had foreseen, he 
 was so extremely sober. But natural she was de- 
 
 313 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 termined to appear ; and accordingly she chatted about 
 nothing at all with an ease bordering on recklessness. 
 They talked and walked with others. It was well on 
 in the evening before they found themselves stand- 
 ing, apart from the smoking, bridge-playing ship's 
 company, at the forward end of the promenade deck. 
 Edith leaned on the rail and watched the creamy 
 shine of the foam that rolled away from the bow in 
 rhythmical rushes. 
 
 After a time he nodded toward the forecastle. 
 
 " Would you care to go out there ? " he asked. 
 
 She hesitated, and glanced inquiringly at him. Her 
 pride, that had supported her so splendidly during and 
 after dinner, was weaker now. Like all her other 
 emotions, during this queer phase of her life, when 
 she was no longer a girl and yet not quite a woman, 
 it had risen upon her only to pass by, like a wave. 
 
 She wondered why he asked her to do this. The 
 forecastle was a secluded spot — ;- a lover's nook, in- 
 deed. But she would not refuse. . 
 
 He was glancing down at her costume, rather un- 
 certainly. " But you are not exactly dressed for 
 climbing around," said he. 
 
 " Nonsense," said she. And started for the ladder 
 so promptly that he had to step quickly to be at her 
 elbow in time to lend a hand. 
 
 They descended, passed the closed hatch that was 
 covered with sprawling, half -clad steerage passengers, 
 climbed the forecastle ladder, and made their way 
 forward around donkey engines and over heaps of 
 
 314 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 chains. He found a seat for her against a coil of 
 clean yellow rope, where she could lean back and 
 watch the dim, flat sea and the sky that blazed with 
 millions of stars. 
 
 "Where is the Southern Cross?" she asked. 
 
 He pointed it out. But he had next to nothing to 
 say. Gradually it became clear to her that he had not 
 brought her here for the purpose of talking to her. 
 She puzzled much. Probably he merely wished to 
 construct a final memory of a pleasant hour with her. 
 Whatever was in his thoughts, his long silences nettled 
 her. She was sure he had not weakened. 
 
 She was wondering again about marriage. An imp 
 of the imagination suggested, now and again, that she 
 was asking too much of life — that an occasional 
 magical hour may come or not, but marriage is a fact 
 that a girl at the dawn of womanhood may not evade. 
 Possibly the very definiteness of it, the irrevocability 
 of it, might prove to be a relief. Certainly there were 
 difficulties in the way of making your own decisions, 
 choosing your own road. 
 
 It was very still up here. There was none of the 
 throbbing and roar of the engines ; only a faint pulse. 
 Edith looked back, and discovered that they were 
 quite hidden from the promenade deck ; she could see 
 only the bridge and wheel-house, a few ventilators, 
 the tops of the two big funnels, and the masts and 
 rigging. At the moment it seemed a friendly, human 
 thing, this great dim ship. 
 
 But her friend was with her now, seated by her side, 
 
 315 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 close, thoughtfully smoking a Manilla cigar. Another 
 evening, and he would not be here. She would be 
 alone — facing that long voyage, facing life itself, 
 disturbed by new doubts, undermined by loneliness, 
 uncertain of herself. 
 
 And then she knew that her heart was sinking. 
 She fought this depression; but knew, as she fought 
 it, that it was going to be too strong for her. She 
 leaned forward, and a little away from him, gazing 
 out into the illimitable night. 
 
 " He told me about you," she said, as if she 
 were thinking aloud. " You helped him with his 
 opera." 
 
 He caught the drift of her thoughts. He was not 
 clumsy, thank Heaven ! " It did n't amount to much, 
 Edith. There really was n't anything one could 
 do." 
 
 She was silent again. A little later she said, 
 musing — 
 
 "What is love?" 
 
 He smoked on very soberly. 
 
 " I always thought it was simple." 
 
 " It is n't," said he. 
 
 " No," she agreed, " it is n't. It 's terribly com- 
 plicated. You think you know exactly what you 're 
 going to do next — and you don't at all." 
 
 He made no reply at all to this. But, curiously, 
 she felt perception and sympathy in his silence. 
 
 She threw out her hands in a nervous gesture. " I 
 can't seem to straighten it out at all. Why — why, 
 
 316 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 I actually don't know his name ! He sent in his card 
 once or twice ; but that was before — it did n't mean 
 anything to me then. And yet . . ." 
 
 The humorless egotism of youth is not to be taken 
 lightly. And it is not to be opposed. Carpenter, now 
 that she was actually on the verge of confidences, tried 
 a diversion. But first he let a decent interval of silence 
 elapse. 
 
 " Hongkong harbor is beautiful," he said. " You 
 will love it — the green hills and the white buildings 
 among the trees. But I want you to give me just a 
 thought at Penang." 
 
 She flashed a frankly puzzled glance at him. 
 
 " You '11 have nearly a day at Penang — it 's thirty- 
 six hours the other side of Singapore, in the Straits. 
 Of all the places I know in the East, I think Penang 
 suits me best. I don't know why. Probably there 
 are more beautiful spots — I can't say. I love Penang. 
 You '11 have time to take a carriage there — they call 
 them gharries, you know — and drive out to the 
 Botanical Gardens. Probably you will fall in with 
 some party from the ship. That 's how it usually 
 works out. And there is a stone hotel on the beach, 
 right up against the sea wall, that 's a good place to 
 have tea." 
 
 He paused here, not wishing to carry it too far. 
 
 " I shall think of you," she said. Then — " I think 
 I shall tell you. I 've got to tell somebody. I never 
 did such a thing before in my life." 
 
 So she was not to be diverted! 
 317 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 Very soberly he listened — very soberly indeed — 
 lighting another cigar ; and still another. For the man 
 to whom it is given to look freely into the heart of a 
 girl carries a burden. 
 
 When the long recital was over — and she told the 
 whole story of that wild night at Shanghai — he rose 
 and leaned against the rail. 
 
 She looked up, wet-eyed, self-absorbed, utterly 
 beautiful. 
 
 " I did n't know I could tell it, but — please under- 
 stand!" 
 
 " I think I understand, Edith," he replied, more 
 gently than she had yet heard him speak. " I think 
 we had better go back now. It is pretty late." 
 
 He let her get up alone. And in stepping over the 
 ropes and chairs and descending the ladder, he did not 
 so much as touch her arm. She was deep in the 
 mysteries of life, and failed to observe the fact. 
 
 He gave her a steady smile when they said good- 
 night. He had to take her hand then, for she thrust 
 it out. After which he mounted to the deserted boat 
 deck, beneath which lay no hot and irritable sleepers, 
 and tramped around and around, a long time, from 
 late to early; until his Chinese silver cigar case was 
 empty. 
 
 The little luncheon took place that next day at 
 Hongkong. In a coolish hotel on a hill. 
 
 Then he returned with her to the ship ; and chatted 
 until she went below to dress. He said good-by at 
 the gangway, while the launch waited below, and was 
 
 318 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 still standing there when she last looked back from 
 the door. 
 
 He was taking it coolly enough — merely wishing 
 her a pleasant voyage. There was nothing in his man- 
 ner to suggest the very responsible business man 
 who had slipped out for ten minutes after ordering 
 luncheon and sent sixty-two gold dollars' worth of 
 cablegrams. Nothing whatever. She did not even 
 know of the cablegrams. She wondered a little, as 
 she descended the stairs. And she spoke rather 
 sharply to Wing. 
 
 She dressed quickly, and returned to the deck. The 
 ship was just under weigh. The launch had gone — 
 she could see it now, half way to the wharf. But she 
 could not make him out in the handkerchief-waving 
 group at the stern. Probably he had settled himself 
 comfortably forward where he could catch what air 
 was stirring and smoke in peace. The thought nettled 
 her. 
 
 For a little while she covertly studied the new 
 comers on the ship. They were mostly arguing with 
 the German deck stewards regarding choice places for 
 their chairs. 
 
 But the spectacle depressed her. She suddenly dis- 
 covered that the older inhabitants (by a few days) 
 of the ship were long-time friends, and that these 
 interlopers were hostile and unwelcome. She climbed 
 the ladder-like stairway to the boat deck, where were 
 others, like herself, indignantly avoiding the invasion 
 of Huns and Vandals below. She walked slowly past 
 
 319 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 these, farther aft, by the funnels and the line of tar- 
 paulin-covered boats. 
 
 She rounded the corner of the wireless office, and 
 came upon the open space behind it. A sailor-person 
 was chalking out a shuffle-board pattern on the deck. 
 There was no one else back here. 
 
 Or was there ? Yes — glancing around the other 
 corner she saw the end of a steamer chair and a pair 
 of feet — a man's feet, in fresh-white canvas shoes. 
 Moving a step farther, she saw that the feet were at- 
 tached to a pair of long legs. She took another step. 
 
 Then, for one brief instant, her breath left her. 
 She stood motionless and speechless, and a little 
 pale. 
 
 Slowly the color returned to her cheeks, and deep- 
 ened. Her eyes lighted with relief that ran on into 
 something not unlike sheer happiness. For the can- 
 vas shoes and the long legs, encased in fresh-white, 
 neatly pressed duck, were the peculiar and personal 
 property of one Henry Carpenter. He had a book 
 in his lap. He wore a white coat of military cut, with 
 high collar that was buttoned in front with lumps of 
 silver bearing the stamp of Siamese legal tender. 
 And a white cotton hat was on his head. 
 
 She had never seen anything quite so comfortable, 
 quite so solid — never anything that looked so good — 
 as this sight. 
 
 It seemed to her that she must control herself. It 
 simply would not do to become all excited this way. 
 What would he think? And what on earth was she 
 
 320 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 to think herself! She was caught in the wild impulse 
 to talk eagerly about every impersonal subject on 
 earth, anything that would cover her confusion. But 
 what she really did was to stand quite motionless and 
 say nothing at all. 
 
 Slowly he became aware of her presence. 
 
 Then he rose. 
 
 " Surprised ? " he asked, smiling. 
 
 " Well — naturally ! " said she. 
 
 " I know. I did n't mean to stage manage it like 
 this." His face sobered. " I '11 spare you the ex- 
 planations, Edith. It 's only that on thinking it over, 
 I realized that I had refused to be your friend. That 
 would n't do, of course. So I 'm going on to Singa- 
 pore. And the easiest way to do it seemed to be to 
 quit talking and just go. So, if you like, we '11 con- 
 sider the necessary little scene as having occurred. 
 . . . Want to sit here with me? or would you rather 
 walk by yourself? " 
 
 " I think," said she, " that I '11 — sit down." 
 
 Her thoughts were still racing. She wondered if 
 she would ever again be able to bring them under con- 
 trol. She was aware that he was speaking — paus- 
 ing — speaking. Now she was flushing again. This 
 was dreadful. She must do something — at least say 
 something. 
 
 He paused again. The pause ran on into a silence. 
 No subject that her ungoverned thoughts touched on 
 seemed germane. 
 
 Finally, in despair, she looked straight at him — 
 321 
 
THE CHARMED LIFE OF MISS AUSTIN 
 
 color high, eyes dancing, obviously a very young, very 
 beautiful, very confused person. 
 
 " Listen ! " she said, breathlessly. " I meant to ask 
 you — what on earth is cutch, anyway ? " 
 
 It was three days later that a message — flying by 
 wireless to Singapore and by cable through Hong- 
 kong, Shanghai, and Nagasaki — got itself written 
 down on a square of paper and delivered by the hand 
 of a Japanese carrier to Mrs. Wilberly, in the Grand 
 Hotel at Yokohama. 
 
 It was Mrs. Wilberly who answered the knock at 
 the door; for Mr. Wilberly, his fat person incased in 
 a bright blue kimono, was standing over his steamer- 
 trunk, expressing certain rather explosive feelings 
 with some vehemence. He had just discovered that 
 all his ship clothing, excepting one pair of flannel 
 trousers, had been packed in the big trunk, and that the 
 big trunk had already been carried out to the ship 
 and, doubtless, stored deep in the hold. 
 
 And then, anyway, she would not have let him an- 
 swer the knock, because his sputterings had begun 
 before this last painful discovery. She had said, as 
 she so often did, that his mistake had lain in his failure 
 to take the very next ship out of Shanghai after Edith 
 Austin, and catch her. 
 
 And he had said that you could n't spot a German 
 Mail ship a three-day handicap and catch up with her 
 this side of Naples, Italy. Not unless you had a 
 faster boat. Which you did n't have. That, in short, 
 
 322 
 
THE SHIP TO SINGAPORE 
 
 as a practical business-man, he knew the thing could n't 
 be done. And that she knew it, too. 
 
 " Well, what is it? " said he now, as she tore open 
 the envelope. 
 
 She did not reply. Instead, she sank down on the 
 nearest chair and looked at him with a blank face. 
 
 " Well ? " said he. " Well ? Well ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wilberly swallowed. " Frank," she got out, 
 " Edith marries Henry Carpenter to-morrow at Singa- 
 pore!" 
 
 Mr. Wilberly sat right down on the sharp side of 
 the steamer-trunk. For a moment his face worked. 
 
 "Thank God!" he said. 
 
 (L^CLJ^ 
 
 323 
 
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