"Little One, ah, my Little One!" cried Lae Choo.
She fell on her knees and stretched her hungry arms toward her son.
But the Little One shrunk from her and tried to hide himself in the folds of the white woman's skirt.
"Go'way, go'way!" he bade his mother.
THE CHINESE LILY
𝕄ERMEI lived in an upstairs room of a Chinatown dwelling-house. There were other little Chinese women living on the same floor, but Mermei never went amongst them. She was not as they were. She was a cripple. A fall had twisted her legs so that she moved around with difficulty and scarred her face so terribly that none save Lin John cared to look upon it. Lin John, her brother, was a laundryman, working for another of his countrymen. Lin John and Mermei had come to San Francisco with their parents when they were small children. Their mother had died the day she entered the foreign city, and the father the week following, both having contracted a fever on the steamer. Mermei and Lin John were
