"_Kisskisskissa? Kisskisskissa?_"

For awhile I was disposed to credit her with a sudden affection for
me, but soon resolved her query into the French "Qu'est-ce que c'est
que ca? What is that?"

She was Apporo, wife of Puhei, Great Fern, she said, and she owned a
house in which her father, a Chinaman, had recently died. This house
she earnestly desired to give me in exchange for the golden bed, and
we struck a bargain. I was to live in the house of Apporo and, on
departing, to leave her the bed. Great Fern, her husband, was called
to seal the compact. He was a giant in stature, dark skinned, with a
serene countenance and crisp hair. They agreed to clean the house
thoroughly and to give me possession at once.

They were really mad to have the bed, in all its shiny golden beauty,
and once the arrangement was made they could hardly give over
examining it, crawling beneath it, smoothing the mattress and
fingering the springs. They shook it, poked it, patted it, and
finally Apporo, filled with feminine pride, arrogated to herself the
sole privilege of bouncing upon it.

Lam Kai Oo wailed his loss of a tenant.

"You savee thlat house belong lep'," he argued earnestly. "My sto'e
littee dirty, but I fixum. You go thlat lep' house, bimeby flinger
dlop, toe dlop, nose he go." He grimaced frightfully, and indicated
in pantomime the ravages of leprosy upon the human form.