Please say to your small son David that his request to send him an Emperor’s crown to wear when he plays king, is not difficult to grant.  At the present writing crowns in the Orient are not fashionable.  As I look out of my window, the salmon-pink walls of the Forbidden City rise in the dusty distance.  Under the flaming yellow roof of the Palace is a frail and frightened little six-year-old boy—­the ruler of millions—­who, if he knew and could, would gladly exchange his priceless crown for freedom and a bag of marbles.

Good night.

PEKING, Next day.

It is Sunday afternoon and pouring rain.  Outside it is so drearily mournful, I keep my back turned.  At least, the dripping wet will secure me a quiet hour or so.

My Chinese room-boy reasons that only a sure-enough somebody would have so many callers and attend so many functions—­not knowing that it is only because Jack’s wife will never lack where he has friends.  Hence the boy haunts my door ready to serve and reap his reward.  But I am sure it was only kindness that prompted him on this dreary day to set the fire in the grate to blazing and arrange the tea-table, the steaming kettle close by, and turn on all the lights.  How cozy it is!  How homelike!

Jack grows stronger each day, and crosser, which is a good sign.  At last I have told him of Sada San’s plight; and he is for starting for Kioto to-morrow to “wipe the floor with Uncle Mura,” as he elegantly expresses it.  But of course he ’s still too weak to even think of such a journey.

He makes me join in the gaieties that still go on despite the turmoil and unrest.  I must tell you of one dinner which, of the many brilliant functions, was certainly unique.

It was a sumptuous affair given by one of the Legation officials.  I wore my glory dress—­the color Jack loves best.  I went in a carriage guarded on the outside by soldiers.  Beside me sat a strapping European with his pockets bulging suspiciously.  I was not in the least afraid of the threatening mob which stopped us twice.

I could almost have welcomed an attack, just to get behind my big escort and see him clear the way.

Merciful powers!  Hate is a sweet and friendly word for what the masses feel for the foreigners, whom most believe to be in league with the Government.

Happily, nothing more serious happened than breaking all the carriage windows; and, in the surprise that awaited me in the drawing-room of the gorgeously appointed mansion, I quite forgot that.

Who should be almost the first to greet me but Dolly and Mr. Dolly, otherwise the Seeker, married and on their honeymoon!  She was radiant.  And oh, Mate, if you could only see the change in him!  As revolutions seem to be in order, Dolly has worked a prize one on him, I think.  He was positively gentle and showed signs of the making of a near gentleman.  I was glad to see them, and more than glad to see Dolly’s unfeigned happiness.  The mournful little prince has gone on his way to lonely, isolated Sikkam to take up his task of endless reincarnation.