CHAPTER TWO.
A PIECE OF CHINA.
Ching flourished his arms to right and left, forming a lane for us to pass along, and we followed him for the few dozen yards between the landing-place and his place of business; but it was like passing through so much human sand, which flowed in again behind us, and as soon as we were in the shelter of the lightly-built bamboo place, crowded round the door to stare in.
But Ching had regularly taken us under his protection, and, stepping into the doorway, he delivered himself of a furious harangue, which grew louder and louder, and ended by his banging to the door and fastening it; after which he turned to us with his little black eyes twinkling, and crying-- "Allee light.

Ching light man light place." We all laughed, of course, and the Chinaman joined in.

Then, growing serious directly, he looked from one to the other.
"You likee dlink ?" "No, no, not yet," cried Barkins.
"No likee dlink ?" said the Chinaman wonderingly; and then in a voice full of reproof, "Sailor boy likee dlink." "Oh yes, by and by," cried Smith.
"Ah, you wantee buy fan, shawl, ivoly?
Fancee shop." "No, no, we don't want to buy anything now," cried Barkins.

"We'll pay you--" "Allee light," cried the man, brightening up, for he had looked disappointed, and he held out both hands for the promised pay.
"Oh, come, wait a bit," I said.

"We want you to take us and show us the shops." "No, no.