The family set out for Canton under the direction of their little servant, whose heart seemed full of anticipation and delight.

The boat stopped when some distance still from the city. A gilded barge with a dragon's head and silken curtains had come to meet them. Not far away they saw a landing, with boats and people.

"You are to wait for me here," said little Sky-High, as he went aboard the barge. "I will return soon."

Gongs sounded, banners waved, as the gilded boat made its way through the river craft. Mr. Van Buren could see a row of sedan chairs standing upon the landing, gorgeous in gilded frames and silk curtains, with bearers and servants in rich costumes. Presently, among these people they saw their little Sky-High approach a tall man, who seemed to be a master of ceremonies, when the gongs were again beaten.

"Well, this is growing somewhat remarkable!" said Mr. Van Buren. "Yes, even if the boy is returning from America with Americans whose name is noted in the commerce of the country!"

Sky-High returned; the family went aboard the cushioned boat, and at the landing were assisted into the sedans, and carried up the water-steps into a high garden, with pavilions, and then on to other gardens away from the river. Golden gables shone above the trees. The hedges were full of blooms and bees, and lovely birds went flashing by. The trees were hung with red lanterns that seemed as light as air; and there were dragon kites in the sky. It was like an ethereal paradise, even to the now silent Boston merchant.

A vista opened, showing a house where guards in brilliant Chinese uniforms stood at the door. Then again gongs sounded.

Three mandarins in robes of silk, their buttons of rank glittering in their caps, came down the wide pathway, as though to meet the visitors, before whose chairs little Sky-High walked. One of them, a stately man, nearly seven feet high, suddenly spread out his arms; whereupon Sky-High rushed forward, prostrated himself, and was almost wrapped from sight, as he was lifted in the immense sleeves of silk and gold.

Mr. Van Buren was now truly filled with amazement. Little Sky-High's mistress was terrified. The children didn't know exactly what to think, sitting together in their sedan, only that they were glad to see the tall mandarin enfold their own dear Sky-High in his flowing silk robes! Little Lucy was half crying. "I believe, I do believe, that he was a wang all the time!" she at last said to Charlie.

The palace was wonderful. Strange lamps hung over them as they passed in. There were beautiful couches and chairs, with gilded arms and silken cushions. The walls were set with carvings and perforated work. Here hung bars of musical bells; there stood great jars and vases; everywhere were fantastic furnishings of silks and costly metals. Feathery green bamboos grew in dragon pots. In the corners stood grotesque figures in armor.

The lamps in their golden lattices burst into soft flame.

"Unaccountable!" said Mr. Van Buren to himself. "Sky-High would hardly be better welcomed were he the wang that Lucy dreamed him to be!"

"Mandarin of Boston," said the tall Chinaman, with an obeisance the like of which was never made in western lands, "welcome to our country; you have been good, indeed, to this boy—the Light of my Eyes, the Heart of my Heart! Madam of this illustrious mandarin, never will I forget you, nor"—turning to the two half-frightened children—"nor you, my little Prince and Princess of the Golden Dome beyond the seas! All shall always be well for you all in our country!"

The tall Chinaman spoke in "flowery English," easily; but the American family knew not what to say, nor how to answer, and they bowed in silence and Lucy said to herself, "The little wang knew what to do in my country, but I do not know what to do in his!"

A little later Mrs. Van Buren, beckoning him to her side as though she were in her own house, said to Sky-High, in lowered tones, "Is this tall mandarin the mandarin in Manchuria that was your master before you came to America?"

Little Sky-High bowed, with a sudden blink of his almond eyes. "Mistress," said he, "he was the mandarin who sent me to America, in care of the consul, that I might know of the American home-life. He wishes me to learn everything that will be of good to me and my country when I am a man"—

"Is he any kinsman of yours?" interrupted his mistress.

"Yes, my noble madam."

"Pray, what relation may he be to you?" Mrs. Van Buren asked, a strange sensation rushing over her.

Lucy and Charles stood near, drinking in every word.

"The prince is my father, mistress," answered little Sky-High.

The two children, standing in the shelter of a carven screen, clapped their hands in the American fashion. Lucy cried out, though softly, "Oh, Sky-High, we are so glad, so glad! You are a wang! You were a wang all the time!"

"Even as you treated me, always, my little Lady of the Lotus!" answered Sky-High, bowing before the children and their mother in the manner of his gorgeous father.

That night there was a feast in the summer palace of the Canton mandarin in honor of the return of the little prince, and the visit of his great American friend, the mandarin of Boston.

Over the tea of Dharma the mandarins related Chinese tales for the entertainment of the illustrious American. The little prince told the story of the German collier family who changed a haunting evil into a guardian angel.

And the prince, his father, said, "That must be a true tale, for it is as it would be with men and spirits in China. The wisdom of Buddha is in the story."

The next day, in the pavilion by the lake of the rosy nelumbiums, where she sat with her mother, and the wonderful Chinese ladies and children, little Lucy said to Sky-High. "I always treated you like a wang, didn't I?"

"And we will treat you here as a viceroy would treat another viceroy's little girl," said Sky-High—whose real name was Ching—the Prince Ching.