of pestilence.

Heywood, now lazy, now animated, exchanged barbaric words with the
boat-woman. As their tones rose and fell, she laughed. Long afterward,
Rudolph was to remember her, a wholesome, capable figure in faded blue,
darting keen glances from her beady eyes, flashing her white teeth in a
smile, or laughing till the green pendants of false jade trembled in
her ears.

"Her name is Mrs. Wu," said Heywood, between smoke-rings, "and she is a
lady of humor. We are discussing the latest lawsuit, which she describes
as suing a flea and winning the bite. Her maiden name was the Pretty
Lily. She is captain of this sampan, and fears that her husband does not
rate A. B."

Where the river disembogued, the Pretty Lily, cursing and shrilling,
pattering barefoot about her craft, set a matting sail and caught the
breeze. Over the copper surface of the roadstead, the sampan drew out
handily. Ahead, a black, disreputable little steamer lay anchored, her
name--two enormous hieroglyphics painted amidships--staring a bilious
yellow in the morning sun. Under these, at last, the sampan came
bumping, unperceived or neglected.

Overhead, a pair of white shoes protruded from the rail in a blue film
of smoke. They twitched, as a dry cackle of laughter broke out.

"Kut Sing, ahoy!" shouted Heywood. "On deck! Kneebone!"

The shoes whipped inboard. Outboard popped a ruddy little face, set in
the green circle of a _topi_, and contorted with laughter.