"O Boy, whiskey _Ho-lan suey, fai di_!" Away bounded the boy marker like a tennis-ball.
"Hello, Wutzler's off already!"-- The little old reader had quietly disappeared, leaving them a vacant table.--"Isn't he weird ?" laughed Heywood, as they sat down.

"Comes and goes like a ghost." "It is his Chinese wife," declared Chantel, preening his moustache.

"He is always ashame to meet the new persons." "Poor old chap," said Heywood.

"I know--feels himself an outcast and all that.

Humph! With us! Quite unnecessary."-- The Chinese page, quick, solemn, and noiseless, glided round the table with his tray.--"Ah, you young devil! You're another weird one, you atom.