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 Wung Foo's little six year old sister was a small copy of her grandmother. She was dressed almost like her brother, but her silk trousers hung loose, like a divided skirt. She lay on cushions, on a bamboo sofa, with her bound feet under her. Sometimes she cried with pain. When grandmother told a fairy story she always said: "The beautiful maiden had such tiny feet that a mandarin's son married her." Then the little girl stopped crying. By and by she could wear satin shoes four inches long, and have her face painted, and dress her hair with flowers and jewelled pins, and very likely a mandarin's son would marry her. Of the hero, grandmother always said: "He learned all the thirty thousand sign words, worshiped at the tombs of his fathers, and became a rich merchant." Wung Foo made up his little mind that he would be very good and study hard.

A Chinese house is just as shut up as a Japanese house is wide open. Wung Foo's home had a wall around it. It stood in a garden, with a lily and fish pond, a bridge, and a curly-roofed tea-house. The women's sitting room was very pretty. It had stools and tables of carved black wood, inlaid with pearl flowers. On the walls were hung pictures embroidered on red satin, or painted on rice paper. There were vases and jars of red and gold, and blue and white. The tea trays were of silver with gold birds on them. The ladies opened and shut scented fans. They spun flax, embroidered on silk and linen and played dominoes. They had pet gold fish and singing birds. They ate a great many sweet things. When they visited other ladies they went in sedan chairs. Sedan chairs are cushioned and curtained and gilded boxes. They have four poles and are carried by men servants. The ladies could not see out of them, very well, or be seen. That was too bad, for the streets were very crowded and gay.

When Wung Foo went to bed in the men's room, he pulled a down quilt over his head. He was only a little boy, after all. In the dark the goblin stories scared him. In the morning he was awakened by a thousand noises. Watchmen told the hour on bamboo drums. Beggars beat on the gate with sticks until a servant went out with rice. Peddlars cried out that they had fish and ducks and eggs and fruits and fat puppies, to sell. A procession banged and rattled and squealed Chinese music. Wung Foo thought it was very sweet music. China had always had it. China never changed anything. He thought the old ways of doing things the very best ways in the world.

One very old way of doing things in China is for little boys to go to school before breakfast, and to go nearly every day in the