along. What was the trouble, Phil? Has Sing been playing
any monkey-doodle business?"

"It was nothing at all! Hurry and get a wash up, Jim! Dinner's ready,"
smiled Eileen. "We'll tell you all you want to know when we are having
something to eat."

They sat down to a pleasant little meal, but, somehow, the earlier
proceedings had cast a damper over the usual gaiety of the trio and
their conversation for once was desultory and of a serious nature.

Phil explained as best he could what had taken place between Eileen
and Sing. Eileen could throw no further light on Phil's story. But Jim
did not seem to require any, for a look of perfect understanding
showed in his big, gaunt, honest face.

"Do you know, Eileen,--you could not have heaped a worse insult on
Sing than you did," he remarked.

"But I didn't say a word, Jim!"

"No!--but you demonstrated on him with that broom."

"And what of that? Anybody is liable to get a little dust swept over
him by a busy housewife."

Jim rose. "Wait a bit!" he remarked. He went to the door and whistled
a loud note that Ah Sing was familiar with.

Shortly afterwards, the Chinaman, very much bruised up--his eye
swollen, and limping--came in. An expression of the deepest humility
and cringe was on his battered countenance.

"I heap solly! I velly solly! I no mean hurt lady. I no do him any
more. You no tell policeman Chief! You no tell him, Bossee Man Jim,
Bossee Man Phil, Lady Missee Pedelston. Ah Sing he velly solly. Heap
much plenty velly solly!" He grovelled and cringed.

"What you do that for anyway? you slit-eyed son of Confucius!"

"You know, Bossee Jim;--you know all about Chinaman. Lady, she sweepee
bloom all over Sing. Bloom he sweepee up dirt. She pointem bloom; she
touch Ah Sing with bloom. Allee same call Ah Sing dirty pig,--see! Me
no dirty--me no dirty pig.

"Anytime pointem bloom, somebody b'long me die. One time, white man
hit me bloom,--my lil boy he die same day away China. Pointem bloom
Chinaman, somebody b'long him die evely time.

"Now maybe my wifee she die--maybe my blother, maybe my mama. I no
savvy yet! Ah Sing get heap mad,--see!

"You no pointem bloom Chinaman any more, Missee Eileen. Makem heap
angly. He get mad all up in him inside."

"Well, folks!--do you get it?" asked Jim.

Phil nodded.

"Yes!--evidently another of their Chinese superstitions," returned
Eileen.

"Just so!" said Jim. "Sing,--all right! You beat it,--quick!"

The China