He spoke English,
and was talking busily with Uncle Mac in the most commonplace
way so Rose considered him a failure. But Fun See was
delightfully Chinese from his junk-like shoes to the button on his
pagoda hat; for he had got himself up in style, and was a mass of
silk jackets and slouchy trousers. He was short and fat, and
waddled comically; his eyes were very "slanting," as Rose said; his
queue was long, so were his nails; his yellow face was plump and
shiny, and he was altogether a highly satisfactory Chinaman.
Uncle Alec told her that Fun See had come out to be educated and
could only speak a little pigeon English; so she must be kind to the
poor fellow, for he was only a lad, though he looked nearly as old
as Mr. Whang Lo. Rose said she would be kind; but had not the
least idea how to entertain the queer guest, who looked as if he had
walked out of one of the rice-paper landscapes on the wall, and sat
nodding at her so like a toy Mandarin that she could hardly keep
sober.
In the midst of her polite perplexity, Uncle Mac saw the two young
people gazing wistfully at one another, and seemed to enjoy the
joke of this making acquaintance under difficulties.
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