body and limbs, gazed into his face with proud and joyous eyes; then turned inquiringly to a customs officer at his elbow.
"That's a fine boy you have there," said the man. "Where was he born?"
"In China," answered Hom Hing, swinging the Little One on his right shoulder, preparatory to leading his wife off the steamer.
"Ever been to America before?"
"No, not he," answered the father with a happy laugh.
The customs officer beckoned to another.
"This little fellow," said he, "is visiting America for the first time."
The other customs officer stroked his chin reflectively.
"Good day," said Hom Hing.
"Wait!" commanded one of the officers. "You cannot go just yet."
"What more now?" asked Hom Hing.
"I'm afraid," said the first customs officer, "that we cannot allow the boy to go ashore. There is nothing in the papers that you have shown us—your wife's papers and your own—having any bearing upon the child."
"There was no child when the papers were made out," returned Hom Hing. He spoke calmly; but there was apprehension in his eyes and in his tightening grip on his son.
