people don’t want missionaries, they want a good army to get them in shape,” Reginald said. “And someone to clean things up. I’ll be glad to get out of this stench, won’t you?”
Lydia did not answer. It was true that the China she had seen while traveling with her parents was not very clean, though she supposed they were seeing only the poorer sections. And the food being prepared and eaten in the open stalls looked unspeakably horrible; she could not bear to think of what went into it.
Still, there was something—she hadn’t quite find the words to define it, though “romance” sprang to mind when she tried.
Above the streets, mats were stretched between the eaves of the buildings, so that the light was dim. The streets were thronged with noisy, jostling crowds. She had an idea that they must have looked like this for centuries, as if she were seeing right into some ancient fairy tale. Over there was a turbaned man with a one-eyed ass. Surely she had read of just such a sight. At any moment the crowd might part to make way for a sedan chair borne by jogging coolies, and in it might be—a prince? A singsong girl whose beauty was hidden from all but the honored and the wealthy?
A green and yellow parrot flew up from a window. The breeze set wind chimes tinkling, and loosened a shower of white blossoms from above, like perfumed snow falling upon their shoulders.
“Wait, listen.” Lydia stopped short, cocking her head. Above the noise of the crowd she heard a baby crying, but this was not the sound of a hungry child, or one impatient for a nap; rather, this was a sound of ageless terror.
“Come on, we don’t want to get into any trouble,” Reginald said.
“This way,” Lydia said, ignoring him. She turned down one of the narrow, twisting streets. They had gone no more than a few feet when they rounded a corner and saw before them a small child, sitting naked in the street, screaming.
The reason for the infant’s terror was evident, for it was surrounded by a pack of wild-looking dogs. From the marks on the child’s arms and legs, the animals had already bitten her once or twice, and they were now circling the child as if making ready to rush upon her.
“Stop that,” Lydia cried. She picked up a stone and threw it, catching the biggest dog on the rump and making him yelp.
She threw another stone and ran forward. The dogs backed away, but only a short distance, yapping and snarling as she snatched the baby up in her arms.
“There, there,” Lydia said, cradling the infant. “It’s all right, you’re safe now. Where do you suppose the parents are, anyway? This child might have been killed.”
“I think that was the idea,” Reginald said.
Lydia’s mouth fell open. “But—surely, you don’t mean....”
“It’s a girl,” Reginald said, pointing.
Lydia glanced down, blushing to have such an anatomical detail pointed out to her by a boy. In the next instant she was filled with horror, as the full import of Reginald’s remark became clear to her.
Before she could speak, however, a group of Chinese burst from the house before which they were standing. The woman in the lead snatched the infant from Lydia’s arms. She was speaking too fast for Lydia, with her scant grasp of the language, to understand much, but there was no question that she was angry with the foreign devils for “interfering where they had no business.”
“Come on, we’d better go,” Reginald said, taking her arm again and urging her back the way they had come.
Lydia went with him, though she kept looking back in dismay at the group, now grown to nearly a dozen. The Chinese were still scolding them angrily, the baby still crying, though less shrilly than before.
“It’s horrible,” she said, when they had gone round the corner and were out of sight.
“They’re heathens,” Reginald said matter-of-factly. “If a baby turns out to be a girl, they just put it out in the street for the dogs or the pigs to eat. I’m surprised they don’t cook it themselves—”
“Stop it,” she said sharply. “Papa says it’s because they’re poor. They can’t afford to invest all the expense of raising a daughter, knowing that when she’s grown she’ll marry and go to work for someone else.”
Despite her defense of the Chinese, however, the incident had left her badly shaken. It was one thing to be told that girl children were sometimes left to die by their destitute parents; it was quite another to see it being done, and to be able to do nothing to prevent it.
All of a sudden, China had lost a great deal of its romance for her.
* * * * * * *
Like all but the meanest of Chinese towns, this one was surrounded by a crenellated wall, and they had come to the gate.
“Let’s go outside,” Reginald said, taking her arm again.
“Do you think we ought to?” she asked. “Aren’t you afraid of the Chinese?”
“There’s lots fewer of them out here.” When she still held back, he added in a pleading tone, “Come on, this may be the last I’ll see you in a long time, maybe forever.”
She shuddered, his words seeming to her a grim prophecy, but she relented. From outside, they could look down upon the rice paddies, crescent-shaped patches descending one below the other, so that they could be easily flooded, with firs and bamboos growing in the hollows.
Reginald led them to one of the little groves of bamboo, and when they had passed into its green shade they seemed quite removed from all the bustle and commotion of the city. This she had not resisted at all, for she found the bamboo groves enchanted places in which she could forget the horror that still lingered in her mind. Here she could imagine herself a princess, in the midst of fantastic adventures.
Reginald cleared his throat nervously, reminding her of his presence. If only, she thought, he were more of a prince.
“So today’s your birthday, is it?” he asked.
His voice was higher pitched than usual, and she gave him a puzzled glance, wondering what on earth was making him so nervous all of a sudden. Maybe he was more frightened of the Chinese than he’d let on.
“Yes,” she said. “Mama’s making me a cake and Papa went to the market to get me a present, though of course he didn’t say so.”
“Sweet sixteen, and never been kissed,” Reginald said, attempting a laugh that came out a gurgle.
“I don’t think that’s any concern of yours,” she replied archly, her face coloring.
“Well, come on then, give us a kiss,” he said, seizing her all of a sudden in a clumsy embrace.
“I won’t,” she cried, struggling to free herself. “Let go of me, how dare you, you silly boy!”
“I’m not a boy anymore, Pa said I could carry a gun on the trip back to Shanghai—and I’ll show you, too, if you’ll just hold still a minute.”
She flung her head to and fro, avoiding his attempts to plant his mouth on hers. She had almost broken free
