"Allee light," cried the man, brightening up, for he had looked disappointed, and he held out both hands for the promised pay. "Oh, come, wait a bit," I said. "We want you to take us and show us the shops." "No, no. Shop no good. Bess shop--fancee shop, Ching." "Oh yes; but we want to see the others too, and the streets." "Stleet allee full dust--allee full mud. No good." "Never mind," said Barkins; "we want to see them, and the temples and mandarins' houses." "Pliest shut up temple. Want muchee money. Mandalin call soldier man muchee, put all in plison. No good." "They'd better," cried Smith; "why, the captain would blow all the place down with his big guns." "No blow Ching fancee shop down. Englis' spoken. Good fliend." "Look here, Ching. Shut up shop, and come and take us all round the town to see everything, and we'll each give you a dollar." "Thlee dollar?" cried the man, holding his head on one side, and raising three fingers. "Yes," we cried, and once more his hand went out. "What can't you trust us?" cried Smith. "No tlust. All pay leady money. Go 'board. Fo'get." "Oh no, we shan't," I cried. "And look here, Ching, after we've been round the town we want to go to the theatre." "'Top flee day to go to fleatre?" he said. "Three days! no. We must be back on board at sundown." "No go fleatre--no time." "Never mind the theatre, then," cried Barkins. "Now then, off we go. And I say, boys, let's have something to eat first." "Wantee something eatee?" cried Ching, making for a canister upon a shelf. "No, no," cried Smith, "not that. We want a good dinner. Do you know what a restaurant is?" "Lestaulant?" The Chinaman shook his head. "Wantee good din': eat muchee soup, fis', cakee?" "Yes, that's right; come along." The yellow-faced man went softly to the door and listened, while we glanced round at the collection of common Chinese curios, carvings, lanterns, sunshades, stuffed birds, bits of silk, and cane baskets which filled the place, till he came back to us with a cunning look, and his eyes twinkling, as Smith said, "like two currants in a penny bun." "Too muchee men all wait," he whispered. "No talkee talkee;" and, making a gesture to us to be very silent, he led us through the back of his shop into a smaller room, closed and fastened the door, and then led us through another into a kind of yard full of boxes and old tea-chests, surrounded by a bamboo paling. There was a gate at the end of this, and he led us through, fastened it, and, signing to us to follow, led us in and out behind houses, where we sometimes saw a woman or two, sometimes children at play, all of whom took refuge within till we had passed.