The servant passed around preserved Chinese fruits, nuts and dried melon seed.

“Is Miss Hamlin not with you?” the Chinese minister’s daughter asked finally, in broken English.

At this moment Harriet’s voice was heard in the corridor.  She was talking gayly to Peter Dillon.  The Chinese girl caught the sound of the young man’s charming laugh.  Bab was gazing straight at Wee Tu.  Wee Tu looked like a beautiful Chinese doll, not a bit like a human being.

At the entrance to Wee Tu’s apartment Peter bowed gracefully.  He waited until Harriet entered.

“Your most honorable ladyship,” he inquired.  “Have I your permission to enter your divine apartment?  Your most noble father has waived ceremony in my favor and says I may be allowed to see you in company with your other guests.  You are to pretend you are an American girl to-day.”

Wee Tu again made a low bow, almost touching the soft Chinese rug with her crown of black hair.  Her mantle was of blue silk crepe embroidered in lotus flowers, and she wore artificial lotus blossoms drooping on either side of her head.

After Peter’s entrance, Wee Tu did not speak nor smile.  She sat with her slender yellow hands clasped together, her nails so long they were tipped with gold to prevent their breaking.  Her tiny feet in their embroidered slippers looked much too small for walking.

Peter made himself agreeable to all the girls.  He chatted with Harriet, joked with Bab and Ruth.  Now and then he spoke to the Chinese girl in some simple gentle fashion that she could understand.

“Peter Dillon is awfully attractive,” Bab thought.  “I wonder why I was prejudiced against him at first because of what that newspaper girl said.”

Peter walked with Barbara back to Mr. Hamlin’s house.

“Would you mind my asking you a question?” Bab demanded when they were fairly on the way.

Peter laughed.  “It’s a woman’s privilege, isn’t it?”

“Well, how do you happen to be so intimate at the Chinese minister’s?” was Barbara’s direct question.  “They seemed so formal and then all of a sudden Mr. Tu Fang Wu let you come up to see his daughter.”

“I know them very well,” Peter returned simply.  “I often dine at the Chinese minister’s with his family.  So I have met his daughter several times before.  I have made myself useful to Mr. Tu Fang Wu once or twice, and my legation likes me to keep in touch with the people in authority.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Barbara.  She remembered that Peter was equally intimate at Mr. Hamlin’s, and she wondered how he managed to keep up such a variety of acquaintances.

“I wonder if you would do a fellow a favor some day?” Peter asked.  “I’ll bet you have lots of nerve.  Harriet is apt to get frightened at the critical minute.”

“It would all depend on what you asked me to do,” Bab returned puzzled by Peter’s remark.

“Oh, I won’t ask you until I have managed to do something for you first.  It is only that I think you can see a joke and I have a good one that I mean to try some day,” Peter replied.