Part 22 (1/2)

Dolly looked serious and shook her head while Monty again demanded:

”Have you heard about Wun Sing's hen?”

”I wonder what he's going to give us for supper! I'm nearly starved.

There never was such a place for appet.i.tes--eating doesn't stop that hollow, all-gone feeling a bit!” calmly stated Alfy, with a tragic air.

”Alfy, you little pig! It isn't more than an hour since we finished dinner,” reproved Molly, laughing.

”Well, I can't help that. I wish 'twas supper-time. Let's go in the kitchen and ask for a piece--like the children home do, bless 'em!”

”I say, you better not! Wun Sing's hen--”

”Monty--quit! Let's all go ask for a 'piece'!” cried Leslie, throwing his arm around the ”fat boy's” shoulder and forcing him along with the others.

Herbert pulled out a jew's-harp--procured n.o.body knew where--and headed the procession with a vain attempt to render ”Yankee Doodle” so that it could be recognized for itself. Then all fell into line, with the laughter and nonsense natural to a company of care free ”youngsters” as they were now known all over the premises.

But as they pa.s.sed a room just beyond Leslie's own, he poked his head through the window, to demand of Mateo, lying within:

”Any better, boy?”

”_Gracias_, Senor Leslie. Much better. Only, the hen of Wun Sing; the omelette--Ah! I suffer, _si_. I groan--I am on fire. The heathen creature and his foul fowl!”

”What's the matter, Les? Is that your pert valet laid up in yon? What's up?”

”Rather--what's down? The boy hasn't been well, or says he hasn't these three days. That's why I had to put off the bear--”

”Mum! Dorothy's just behind us and she has ears all round her head! But we'll do it, yet; either with or without him. It'll be rippin' fun, but if that girl gets wind of it she'll stop it, sure.”

”I wonder if we'll see Wun Sing's hen!” said Monty again.

”Stark! I tell you if you mention that fowl again I'll stuff her down your throat!” cried Herbert, dropping his jew's-harp and engaging with Monty. But the latter was round and easily slipped through Bert's fingers, and the scrimmage was playful, anyway.

Resuming their march they entered the great kitchen, now wholly deserted save by the Chinaman, who cowered in a corner, praying l.u.s.tily to his honorable forefathers and burning some sort of stuff before a little image on the floor beside him. Like a good many others of his race, Wun Sing was ”good Chlistian” when it suited him to be, but a much better devotee of his ancient G.o.ds when real trouble overtook him.

Wun Sing was in trouble now. Bottomless trouble, he feared, and so wholly engaged in his devotions that he didn't take any notice of the noisy youngsters foraging his stores. Until, from the corner of his eye, he saw Alfy poking into a little wall-cupboard that was his own property and used to shelter his dearest treasures.

”No, no, Missee Alfaletta! No, no. Wun Sing's chalm no wolkee if lill gels meddle!”

He rose from his prostration on the floor and fairly flew to the girl's side, pus.h.i.+ng her hand aside from the key she had almost turned, his whole manner expressing great agitation.

Of course, she desisted at once, even apologized for her action, but her old co-worker in Mrs. Calvert's kitchen begged pardon in his own turn and after his foreign fas.h.i.+on. In his broken English he eagerly explained that he and his belongings had been _bewitched_.

His hen--the so beloved hen of Wun Sing, that he had brought from far away California, along with some garden seeds and roots, the hen had been entered by an evil spirit and the days of Wun Sing were numbered.

Already he felt the dread sickness stealing over him, as it had already stolen upon his old neighbor of San Diego--the so afflicted Mateo. He had been praying and offering gifts to his little clay G.o.d but so far no good had come. Within the cupboard on the wall he had placed a ”charm”--a terrible charm, in his opinion and if that failed not only he but all at San Leon were doomed. Would that he had never heard of the place, even for the extra big wages the rich owner had offered.

He--

When he had reached this point, Alfy shook him demanding:

”What makes you such a fool, Wunny? That little old image on the floor is enough to make you sick, course, it's so filthy dirty. I hope you'll scrub your hands good with soap before you touch any food for other folks to eat. What's the matter with the hen, anyway?”