Little Almond Blossoms 3

Little Almond Blossoms 3

Mo chun_ noticed the boys carrying on a great deal of private

conversation, and she wondered what it could be; so that night, after

Sing Lee had burned his punks before the god, and had eaten his bowl of

rice with chopsticks, she said to him: “What for you allee time whisper?

You no eat--you no sleep; tell me! what you think?”

 

_Mo chun_ was such a dear little brown mother, and he loved her so, that

when she looked at him with her slanting velvet eyes, and asked him to

tell her, he just had to, that was all. He was not afraid of her, for

Chinese mothers do not punish their children, and anyway--the secret was

too good to keep, so why not tell her? She never laughed at him like _ho

chun_. So he crept close up against the warmth of her silken blouse--he

could feel her tender mother heart beating beneath it--and he gazed at

the polished hair and the pretty mouth as he talked.

 

“_Mo chun_--I likee be like big man--like _ho chun_. I get boys

togeddeh; we be highbinders, allee samee _ho chun_.

 

“_Ho chun_ velly fine man; he kill heap of people; I likee do that, but,

_mo chun_, my beautiful blossom, I no likee _ho chun_ to kill Chong

Sing; he heap good--he bling me candy.”

 

“What you mean, little boy? How you _sabe_ (know) _ho chun_ kill Chong

Sing? Speak!--tell me!”

 

“Oh, _mo chun_ of mine, I no sleep at night; I no can help--I hear _ho

chun_ say Chong Sing must die. I velly solly; he heap good man--I

likee.”

 

_Mo chun_ was sorry too, for she knew him to be a good man, but she

knew there was no use to say anything. If they had decided upon his

death there was nothing to be said.

 

The next day Sing Lee set forth with his little band of highbinders to

find some one to kill. _Mo chun_ had said: “You must not really kill

them, you _sabe_, just pletend kill.”

 

Suddenly, as they marched on, a bright thought struck little Sing Lee.

“Suppose I tell Chong Sing?--he live near--I know the way, and--he was

kind to me.”

 

He then confided his secret to his trusty men, and they marched on,

through the narrow streets, till they came to the home of the good Chong

Sing--the man who was to be killed.

 

It was dark and gloomy where Chong Sing lived, and his two little

children, trudging homeward through the narrow alley-way, arrived at

the door just before the little highbinders. Sing Lee could see their

_ho chun_ as he greeted them, and they clasped their little arms about

his neck, while he gazed at them with love in his eyes--and yet--he must

die.

 

Sing Lee’s mind was made up. He marched boldly to the door, and stood

under the big Chinese letters which meant happiness to all who should

enter there, and he could even smell the incense ever kept burning for

the god,--the god who had given no warning to Chong Sing. With a soft

sound of sandalled feet the doomed man appeared at the door. His face

was beaming with good nature. He carried his little girl in his arms,

and by his side stood his son, a manly little fellow.

 

With his heart throbbing as if it would burst, Sing Lee advanced in

front of his men, saying, “I am Sing Lee! You were kind to me once;

these are my men--highbinders--” (at this Chong Sing smiled in a very

amused way, but the smile was changed to something else when the boy

went on) “I no forget you; I velly lonely--you bling me candy; you say

good word to me, and now--I pay you back.

 

“No one know I come to tell you; the Hip Sing Tongs they say you must

die. They say you tell seclets to white devil: I no know, I no care, but

you good man; I likee save you. I want you to go ’way, acloss the water.

You go quick!--I velly solly--good-by.”

 

The little highbinder did not kill any one that day; he was thinking of

a pale, set face, and two little brown arms clasped about a father’s

neck. Never mind! he would kill some one next week, or “to-mollow.” Some

one who was bad--who did not bring candy.

 

There was great surprise among the Hip Sing Tongs when their victim was

not to be found. Such a thing had never happened before, and they could

account for it in no way.

 

Of course they did not think to ask the little mother or the embryo

highbinder. And while they were wondering and searching, away over

across the blue sea were the Chinese father and mother, and brown, happy

children--safe.

 

 

 

 

_HOW AH CHEE FOUND SANTA CLAUS_

 

 

It was Christmas Eve. In the big Chinatown of San Francisco little Ah

Chee and her brother Ah Gong were eagerly drinking in the words of the

old Chinese story-teller as he sat on the streets and told stories for

any one who cared to listen and to give him a few pennies. It was

getting late, and the sea wind blew roughly through the narrow streets,

and made the dear little Chinese noses so cold; but then Ah Chee did not

mind, for the old man had been telling them the most wonderful

tale,--something about Christmas--the ’Melican Clismas--and he had said

something about it being a little Baby’s birthday, and that almost

everybody in the world celebrated it. She pondered over it, in her vague

little Chinese way, and thought it very queer that they should make such

an ado about just a baby.

 

The old man did not understand it very well himself, but he remembered

that when he used to be cook for an American family once, a long time

ago, the children had hung up their stockings on this particular night,

and had some kind of a tree with beautiful things on it. They called it

a Christmas tree, he remembered, and how pleased he had been when there

were found to be some packages for him on that same tree. They had told

him then that Santa Claus had put them there, and he could never forget

the thrill of surprise and pleasure he felt at the thought that this

mysterious Santa Claus, whoever he might be, should have remembered him

when he had never even seen him.

 

And now the story was finished, and the old man went on down the street,

and entered a shop where he would smoke opium and forget all about

Christmas. But little Ah Chee did not forget. She sat scraping her

little sandals against the pavement, thinking it all over. Her _mo chun_

was upstairs in the poor little rooms, sewing by the dim light which

struggled through the lattice, and wishing that she were not so poor,

for she had to work very hard, and often they did not have enough to

eat. The rice was almost gone now, and there were only a few leaves of

_chah_ (tea) left.

 

A Chinese mother loves her children very dearly, and always tries to

gratify their every wish; so it made her feel badly to think she could

not give them embroidered _shoms_ (blouses), and sandals, instead of the

plain dark ones they always had to wear. The children had had their rice

early to-night, and had gone out in the street to play “hawk catching

young chickens,” they said.

 

She did not know the story-teller had been there, but she would not have

objected if she had known, for he was a kind old man, and if she could

have spared the time from her sewing she also would have listened; for

a Chinese woman is like a child in many things. She had heard some one

say this was the American Christmas, but to her all days were

alike,--just work, that was all.

 

Meanwhile Ah Chee was filled with a curious longing to run away from the

picturesque Chinatown, just for a little while, to see if she could not

find out something more about this wonderful Santa Claus. She would give

anything in the world to see him, only--she had nothing to give. All the

trinkets the poor little child owned were a mud pagoda and a bit of

painted wood she called a doll.

 

Once during the Chinese New Year her dear _mo chun_ had taken them for a

walk outside of Chinatown, and she had seen the wonderful shop-windows

of the Americans. How different they were from the Chinese! She had also

seen some beautiful things that her mother had said were dolls. She had

never forgotten it, and had even dreamed of holding one of these

wonderful things in her arms. But it could only be a dream,--no such

happiness was for her,--for it was all they could do to get enough rice

to eat, without buying American dolls.

 

“Ah Gong!” she cried, fired with a sudden and bold resolution, “Ah Gong!

you likee take a walk with sisteh?”

 

Ah Gong was at that moment busily engaged in eating a dried herring,

which the kind-hearted owner of the shop next door had given him; but

that fact did not in the least interfere with his desire to see new

sights. His sparkling Chinese eyes fairly danced out of his head at the

mere prospect.

 

“Yes, I likee,” he replied, with his mouth full of herring. “What foh

you takee walk? Where you go?”

 

She took hold of the end of his queue, and pulling him toward her,

whispered in his ear the magic words: “We go see Clismas! we catch ’em

Sanny Claw.”

 

This announcement was almost too much for Ah Gong, and his little

celestial brain could not take in so much happiness all at once, so he

stared at her a moment until he had swallowed the bite of herring, and

then gasped out: “But Ah Gong ’flaid Sanny Claw spit fieh (fire) on us;

allee samee heap big dlagon.”

 

Ah Chee had to giggle at this, with her ever-ready Chinese giggle, but

putting her long sateen sleeve round him in a protecting manner she

answered him in the kindest tone: “Oh, no! ’Melican Sanny Claw heap good

man--allee samee joss; we go find him; come along!”

 

So they started in the growing darkness, with the sweet faith of a child

in their hearts. They knew not where to go, nor which way to turn, but

only had the one thought--just to find the ’Melican Clismas. When they

had disappeared, the shopkeeper believed they had gone home for the

night, and gave them no more thought; the tired mother upstairs supposed

that they were in the shop, as they often went in there and played until

late, because it was bright, and the man was kind to them.