She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince.

Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense.
She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound--the guttural Chinese tongue.

She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language.

At length she hit upon it: bubbling water.

Her eyebrows, pulled down by the stress of thought, now resumed their normal arches; and pleased with her discovery, she smiled.
To Ah Cum, who was watching her covertly, the smile was like a bit of unexpected sunshine.