During the week following Aunt Minerva's departure, the two girls had a busy life, taking charge of the unaccustomed tasks of housekeeping.

But with all their absorbing occupations, the three were waiting on tiptoe of expectation for a reply from Major Goodrich. And even Captain Brett could scarcely conceal his impatience as the days went by and no answer came.

At last one morning the mail-box contained a letter postmarked from Pennsylvania, and Marcia carried it upstairs two steps at a time.

It was from the major. He wrote:

Is there any way you can think of to furnish me with an idea of what the Chinese for that expression, "maker of melodies," sounds like? The only way that occurs to me is to see whether, by any faint chance, Lee Ching could write it in that Romanized Colloquial, used by the missionaries. That might give me an idea. It's a hundred chances to one, he doesn't know it. If so, just spell it out for me yourself in English—the nearest you can get to it.

The reason I want to know it is this: there was a young fellow in Hong-Kong at the British military station, a military aide of promise, who had a magnificent singing voice. Every one went wild over him there. He was the life of the garrison and in social circles as well. Many an evening we spent listening to one of his impromptu recitals. But what makes me suspect that he may be the one we're after is that he foolishly went and married the daughter of a Chinese mandarin from one of the Hong-Kong yamÊns. He had been the means of rendering the father some very important service, and met the daughter quite by accident. The whole affair was a rather remarkable story, but I haven't time to detail it all to you now.

I saw the girl just once—afterward. She was a fascinating little creature, with the golden butterfly pins in her black hair, and her rich silk robe hung with jewels, and her tiny bound feet. But the young fellow's family back in England was furious about it. Eventually, he cut loose from them entirely. Then he and his wife drifted away from the Hong-Kong region up to Amoy, and finally dropped out of sight. I imagine he adopted the Chinese customs and habits and got to live at last very much like a native. I've never heard of him since, but I've a notion he could be hunted up if he's still alive. His name was Carringford—Jack Carringford, we used to call him.

The point, however, is that the Chinese called him by a name of their own, signifying "eminent singer," or something of that sort—very much the same kind of expression as that used on the bracelet. And after a while we all got to calling him by it—or some abbreviation of it—pretty regularly. I can't recall just what it was now, for I haven't thought of it in years. But I believe I'd recognize it if I saw it written out in Colloquial or any other English version! Get me that, and I'll soon put you on the right track!

Mightn't the little girl possibly be the daughter of Carringford?

"No, she mightn't!" interrupted Marcia, indignantly, at this point. "Does Cecily Marlowe look like a Chinese mandarin's daughter's daughter?" And certainly, with her golden curls and big blue eyes and the English roses in her cheeks, they had to admit that she did not!

"And besides that," added Janet, "her name isn't Carringford!"

"That doesn't always signify," remarked the captain. "It looks to me like a rather clear case if we find that the Chinese name agrees with the major's recollection of it. I'd go down to the ship to-day, but Lee Ching is on shore leave, and won't be back till to-morrow. I'll see him then, and find out whether he knows anything about this Romanized Colloquial. I rather doubt it myself. It's not much used outside of the missions, I understand."

"What is 'Romanized Colloquial,' anyway?" demanded Marcia. "It sounds very mysterious!"

"No, it isn't a bit mysterious," answered Captain Brett. "In order to understand about it, however, you must know this fact about the Chinese language. The written character is the same—means the same—all over the kingdom. But it isn't pronounced the same in any of the different provinces. In fact, the spoken dialects are like entirely different languages. It seems that the dialect of the Fu-kien province has been reduced to a written form by the missionaries and called Romanized Colloquial. It has been in use for a good many years, but it isn't especially recognized by official or diplomatic circles. But a good many of the Chinese boys who attend the mission-schools learn it there. It's just possible that Lee Ching may have done so, as he came from that region. We can only wait and see. If he doesn't know it, he may be able to write out the Chinese equivalent in some form of English script."

The next day the captain went down to the Empress of Oran and returned with a beaming face and a sheet of paper written on by Lee Ching.

"He knew it all right!" he announced. "Learned it as a boy in the mission-school at Chiang-chiu. Here's what he wrote." And he held the sheet of paper for the girls to see. "He's put the Chinese characters at one side. They have to be read from top to bottom, you know. Next to them is the Romanized Colloquial, and alongside of that the English translation. Quite a pretty piece of work that!"