He looked at Jo for a time, and then came and glanced over Jo's shoulder, smiling.

The Chinamen of the village were used to having artists come and plant their easels here and there on the rocks or at the entrance of the narrow street, and draw the village on their canvas.

At such times, a small group of Chinamen usually gathered about each artist, and made in their own tongue comments on the drawing.

No artist knew the nature of the criticisms made in his very ears.
Jo smiled over his own drawing, as Quang Po inspected it.
"Wha' fo' you do that ?" inquired Quang Po, mustering his English.
"This drawing ?" questioned Jo.

"Oh, you see, my cousin is an artist on one of the city papers.