He paid him a hundred dollars a month, and tried to devise other ways
to show his gratitude; but Sam wanted nothing, not even thanks.

All he desired was the privilege to serve.

But one morning as Sam poured his master’s coffee, he said quietly,
without a shade of emotion on his yellow face, “Next week I leave
you.”

The lawyer smiled.

“Next week I leave you,” repeated the Chinese; “I hire for you better
man.”

The lawyer set down his cup of coffee. He looked at the white-robed
servant. He felt the man was in earnest.

“So you are going to leave me—I do not pay you enough, eh? That Doctor
Sanders who was here—he knows what a treasure you are. Don’t be a
fool, Sam; I’ll make it a hundred and fifty a month—say no more.”

“Next week I leave you—I go to China,” said the servant impassively.

“Oh, I see! You are going back for a wife? All right, bring her
here—you will return in two months? I do not object; bring your wife
here—there is work for two to keep this place in order. The place is
lonely, anyway. I’ll see the Collector of the Port, myself, and
arrange your passage-papers.”

“I go to China next week: I need no papers—I never come back,” said