"I think he is improving, but it is very slow. I read in a magazine the other day that learning to recite poetry is a great help, so I have been teaching him a very easy little poem, explaining it as I go along in just the same simple language I use to my Sunday-school class. He is so intelligent." "There he is," said Bob. "Let us see what he makes of it" (with a glance at Desjardins). "You don’t mind, Miss Charteris?" "Not at all," replied Ethel, with a faint blush, "—if you are not too severe an examiner." "Here, Ah-Sam!" called Bob. The Chinaman came up and bowed humbly. "Miss Charteris has been teaching you about the little busy bee. We should like to hear you say it." "My no can talkee missy so-fashion," said Ah-Sam, looking troubled. "Never mind that. Say it your own way." Ah-Sam looked at Ethel. "Come, Ah-Sam," she said; "remember how I explained it to you." The Chinaman put his hands behind his back, hesitated, then fixed his eyes on the nearest ventilator, and in his odd sing-song chanted: "What-for one piecee littee pidgy bee Wantchee go workee allo bloomin’ day-lo? He go ’long smellum evely littee tlee; Ch’hoy! catchee jam-jam; bimeby chop-chop wailo!" The colour of Ethel’s cheeks had deepened from pink to scarlet during this recitation. Morton gave a titter at the second line, then cougned and looked solemn. At the end they all glanced at one another and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Ah-Sam looked deprecatingly at his young mistress, and began to make humble obeisance with his hands. "Thank you, Ah-Sam," she said. "You said it very nicely. You may go now.—What a shame!" she added, turning to the others when he had gone, "to hurt the poor man’s feelings so. He did his best." "And clearly showed that he had studied your commentary more than the text, as is the way with students of English," said Bob. "Never mind, Miss Charteris; Ah-Sam’s a good fellow. I am hardly yet reconciled to his transference of allegiance from me to you." "Nor I," said Mr. Charteris drily, with a grim look at his sister. "Now, Andrew, don’t go into that again," said Mrs. Pottle. "There’s no rule without an exception. Our legislators are mostly right, I allow; but when they make a law that excludes all Chinamen from our shores—well, they have to reckon with me. I confess I smuggled Ah-Sam on board; he’s the exception, a most exceptional China boy. Ethel took a fancy to have him for a servant, and I’ll land him right down at San Francisco, laws or no laws." Mr. Charteris shrugged. "Fawcett," he said, "come and take a turn with me. We must talk over that prospectus—eh, what?"