“Queer lessons, I fancy; and what have you learned from this remarkable mixture, I should like to know?” A naughty sparkle came into Rose's eyes as she answered, with a droll look at her uncle, “I can't tell you all, ma'am, but I have collected some useful information about China, which you may like, especially the teas. The best are Lapsing Souchong, Assam Pekoe, rare Ankoe, Flowery Pekoe, Howqua's mixture, Scented Caper, Padral tea, black Congou, and green Twankey. Shanghai is on the Woosung River. Hong Kong means 'Island of Sweet waters.' Singapore is 'Lion's Town.' 'Chops' are the boats they live in; and they drink tea out of little saucers. Principal productions are porcelain, tea, cinnamon, shawls, tin, tamarinds and opium. They have beautiful temples and queer gods; and in Canton is the Dwelling of the Holy Pigs, fourteen of them, very big, and all blind.” The effect of this remarkable burst was immense, especially the fact last mentioned. It entirely took the wind out of Aunt Jane's sails; it was so sudden, so varied and unexpected, that she had not a word to say. The glasses remained fixed full upon Rose for a moment, and then, with a hasty “Oh, indeed!” the excellent lady bundled into her carriage and drove away, somewhat bewildered and very much disturbed. She would have been more so if she had seen her reprehensible brother-in-law dancing a triumphal polka down the hall with Rose in honour of having silenced the enemy's battery for once. Chapter 9--Phebe's Secret “Why do you keep smiling to yourself, Phebe?” asked Rose, as they were working together one morning, for Dr. Alec considered house-work the best sort of gymnastics for girls; so Rose took lessons of Phebe in sweeping, dusting and bed-making. “I was thinking about a nice little secret I know, and couldn't help smiling.” “Shall I know it, sometime?” “Guess you will.” “Shall I like it?” “Oh, won't you, though!” “Will it happen soon?” “Sometime this week.” “I know what it is! The boys are going to have fireworks on the fourth, and have got some surprise for me. Haven't they?” “That's telling.” “Well, I can wait; only tell me one thing is uncle in it?” “Of course he is; there's never any fun without him.” “Then it's all right, and sure to be nice.” Rose went out on the balcony to shake the rugs, and, having given them a vigorous beating, hung them on the balustrade to air, while she took a look at her plants. Several tall vases and jars stood there, and a month of June sun and rain had worked wonders with the seeds and slips she had planted. Morning-glories and nasturtiums ran all over the bars, making haste to bloom. Scarlet beans and honeysuckles were climbing up from below to meet their pretty neighbours, and the woodbine was hanging its green festoons wherever it could cling.