finally, in broken English.

At this moment Harriet's voice was heard in the corridor. She was talking
gayly to Peter Dillon. The Chinese girl caught the sound of the young
man's charming laugh. Bab was gazing straight at Wee Tu. Wee Tu looked
like a beautiful Chinese doll, not a bit like a human being.

At the entrance to Wee Tu's apartment Peter bowed gracefully. He waited
until Harriet entered.

"Your most honorable ladyship," he inquired. "Have I your permission to
enter your divine apartment? Your most noble father has waived ceremony
in my favor and says I may be allowed to see you in company with your
other guests. You are to pretend you are an American girl to-day."

Wee Tu again made a low bow, almost touching the soft Chinese rug with
her crown of black hair. Her mantle was of blue silk crepe embroidered in
lotus flowers, and she wore artificial lotus blossoms drooping on either
side of her head.

After Peter's entrance, Wee Tu did not speak nor smile. She sat with her
slender yellow hands clasped together, her nails so long they were tipped
with gold to prevent their breaking. Her tiny feet in their embroidered
slippers looked much too small for walking.

Peter made himself agreeable to all the girls. He chatted with Harriet,
joked with Bab and Ruth. Now and then he spoke to the Chinese girl in
some simple gentle fashion that she could understand.

"Peter Dillon is awfully attractive," Bab thought. "I wonder why I