Mr. Van Buren, a tea-merchant of Boston, received his goods through merchant vessels, and not through his own ships as his father had done.

The next morning Mrs. Van Buren went down early into her kitchen to assign Sky-High his work.

Nora, in a loud whisper that the birds in the apple-boughs might have heard, informed Mrs. Van Buren that the new Chinese servant was “no good as a sweeper,” and asked what he did with his pigtail when he slept.  “It must take him a good part of to-morrer to comb his hair, it is that long,” she said.  “And wouldn’t you better use him up-stairs for an errand-boy altogether now?  Sure, you wouldn’t be after teaching him any cooking at all?” Nora was an old servant and had many privileges of speech.

Mrs. Van Buren smiled, and arranged that little Sky-High should wash and iron clothes in the cabin under the blooming trees, at the end of the arbor.

“And if you learn well,” said she, “I may let you tend the door, and wait upon the table, and keep the rooms in order.”

“And then you will be up-stairs,” said little Lucy, “where it is very pleasant.”

“And now, Sky-High, tell me how it is that you can speak English so well,” said Mrs. Van Buren, as they stood in the cabin, where the prospect of solitude seemed to please the boy.  A gleam of something like mischief appeared on little Sky-High’s face.

“And, Madame de Mandarin,” said he, “I speak French too. Parlez-vous Francais, Mademoiselle Lucy?” he added rapidly, turning to the little American girl. “Pardonne, Madame la Mandarin!”

“Sky-High will not say ‘Mandarin’ any more,” said Mrs. Van Buren.  “There are no mandarins in this country, and when Sky-High is called into the rooms above he will wear his plain clothes, not spangled clothes.  Now, who taught you English?”

“My master, madam.”

“Say mistress, Sky-High.”

“My master, mistress.”

“Where did you live in Manchuria?”

“In the house of a mandarin.”

“And who was your master?”

“The mandarin, mistress.”

“Do mandarins in China teach their servants to speak English?”

“Some mandarins do, your grace.”

“Do not say ‘your grace,’ Sky-High, but simply mistress.  Ladies have no titles in America.  Where is the city in which you lived?”

“In Manchuria, on the coast, on the Crystal Sea.”

The kitten came running into the kitchen, and at once leaped on to the end of Sky-High’s pigtail.

The boy gave his pigtail a sudden whisk.

“Pie-cat?” asked he.

“No, no!” said Mrs. Van Buren in horror.  “We have no pie-cats in this country.  Was there an English teacher in your house?”

Little Sky-High was winding his pigtail about his neck for safety.  He saw Lucy giggling, and a laugh came into his own eyes.

“Pardonne, mistress.  We had an English trader at the hong—­at the trade-house.”