[Illustration: He watched her whirl about] "Sir," demanded Floo, sternly, "what do you mean by such behavior? I thought you were a hermit. And besides, don't you know that the Dancing Pearl belongs to the Viceroy of Chow Chow?" The Hermit of Hong laughed scornfully as he put down his cymbals and laid aside his pipe. "Belongs to the Viceroy of Chow Chow? You mean, _did_ belong to the Viceroy of Chow Chow. She belongs to me now. And as for you, whoever you are, get out of my cave before I throw a toad at you." Then he clashed his cymbals again and the Dancing Pearl went on with her dancing. Now you may think that Floo would have been discouraged to meet with such a reception, but such was not the case, for he had not been trained by the celebrated Mongolian wizard for nothing. No sir-ee, it took much more than that to discourage him. So all he did was to take out his book of instructions and look it over. Then he put some figures down on a piece of paper, after which he wiggled his fingers a moment and stamped his foot, and the Hermit of Hong was transformed into a large and very yellow looking lemon. And the moment that happened the Dancing Pearl stopped dancing and rushed up to Floo with a cry of joy. "Oh," she panted, all out of breath from her late exertions. "I'm _so_ glad you came. I'm completely worn out." "I should think so," said Floo. "Have you been dancing ever since that old thing carried you off?" "Yes," said the Dancing Pearl; "not even stopping for meals." "Well," said Floo, "just you rest yourself and then we'll start back to the Viceroy's palace." Then he told the Dancing Pearl who he was and why Hoo Hoo had sent him. "Of course," he continued, "the wizard will make much more money than I will out of this job, but I think I'll get my salary raised anyhow. And if I keep on being successful as I have been this time, I shouldn't be surprised if I made a big enough salary after awhile to get married. And if I ever get married I know who I'd like to marry." And when he said that the Dancing Pearl hung her head and turned very pink. "Oh," she murmured, "I'm much too old for you. I'm almost twelve." "What of it?" cried Floo, "I'm going on nine."