furnishing was extravagantly simple. Kings' ransoms were expended
without display--thanks to the educated tastes of the progeny.

Ah Chun had been liberal in the matter of education. "Never mind
expense," he had argued in the old days with Parkinson when that
slack mariner could see no reason for making the Vega seaworthy;
"you sail the schooner, I pay the bills." And so with his sons and
daughters. It had been for them to get the education and never mind
the expense. Harold, the eldest-born, had gone to Harvard and
Oxford; Albert and Charles had gone through Yale in the same
classes. And the daughters, from the eldest down, had undergone
their preparation at Mills Seminary in California and passed on to
Vassar, Wellesley, or Bryn Mawr. Several, having so desired, had
had the finishing touches put on in Europe. And from all the world
Ah Chun's sons and daughters returned to him to suggest and advise
in the garnishment of the chaste magnificence of his residences. Ah
Chun himself preferred the voluptuous glitter of Oriental display;
but he was a philosopher, and he clearly saw that his children's
tastes were correct according to Western standards.

Of course, his children were not known as the Ah Chun children. As
he had evolved from a coolie labourer to a multi-millionaire, so had
his name evolved. Mamma Ah Chun had spelled it A'Chun, but her
wiser offspring had elided the apostrophe and spelled it Achun. Ah
Chun did not object. The spelling of his name interfered no whit
with his comfort nor his philosophic calm. Besides, he was not
proud. But when his children arose to the height of a starched
shirt, a stiff collar, and a frock coat, they did interfere with his
comfort and calm. Ah Chun would have none of it. He preferred the
loose-flowing robes of China, and neither could they cajole nor