“So the son of the Government teacher and little Happy Love are already married,” Laura went on, relieving Mrs. Spring Fragrance of her cloak, her hat, and her folding fan. Mr. Spring Fragrance paused upon the doorstep. “Sit down, Little Sister, and I will tell you all about it,” said Mrs. Spring Fragrance, forgetting her husband for a moment. When Laura Chin Yuen had danced away, Mr. Spring Fragrance came in and hung up his hat. “You got back very soon,” said Mrs. Spring Fragrance, covertly wiping away the tears which had begun to fall as soon as she thought herself alone. “I did not go,” answered Mr. Spring Fragrance. “I have been listening to you and Laura.” “But if the business is very important, do not you think you should attend to it?” anxiously queried Mrs. Spring Fragrance. “It is not important to me now,” returned Mr. Spring Fragrance. “I would prefer to hear again about Ah Oi and Man You and Laura and Kai Tzu.” “How lovely of you to say that!” exclaimed Mrs. Spring Fragrance, who was easily made happy. And she began to chat away to her husband in the friendliest and wifeliest fashion possible. When she had finished she asked him if he were not glad to hear that those who loved as did the young lovers whose secrets she had been keeping, were to be united; and he replied that indeed he was; that he would like every man to be as happy with a wife as he himself had ever been and ever would be. “You did not always talk like that,” said Mrs. Spring Fragrance slyly. “You must have been reading my American poetry books!” “American poetry!” ejaculated Mr. Spring Fragrance almost fiercely, “American poetry is detestable, _abhorrable_!” “Why! why!” exclaimed Mrs. Spring Fragrance, more and more surprised. But the only explanation which Mr. Spring Fragrance vouchsafed was a jadestone pendant. THE INFERIOR WOMAN I Mrs. Spring Fragrance walked through the leafy alleys of the park, admiring the flowers and listening to the birds singing. It was a beautiful afternoon with the warmth from the sun cooled by a refreshing breeze. As she walked along she meditated upon a book which she had some notion of writing. Many American women wrote books. Why should not a Chinese? She would write a book about Americans for her Chinese women friends. The American people were so interesting and mysterious. Something of pride and pleasure crept into Mrs. Spring Fragrance’s heart as she pictured Fei and Sie and Mai Gwi Far listening to Lae-Choo reading her illuminating paragraphs. As she turned down a by-path she saw Will Carman, her American neighbor’s son, coming towards her, and by his side a young girl who seemed to belong to the sweet air and brightness of all the things around her. They were talking very earnestly and the eyes of the young man were on the girl’s face. “Ah!” murmured Mrs. Spring Fragrance, after one swift glance. “It is love.”