"If it is not love, what is it?" softly answered the girl.
Happily chatting they descended the green hill. Their holiday was over. A little later Liu Venti was on the ferry-boat which leaves every half hour for the Western shore, bound for the Berkeley Hills opposite the Golden Gate, and Pau Tsu was in her room at the San Francisco Seminary, where her father's ambition to make her the equal in learning of the son of Liu Jusong had placed her.
II
𝕋HE last little scholar of Pau Tsu's free class for children was pattering out of the front door when Liu Venti softly entered the schoolroom. Pau Tsu was leaning against her desk, looking rather weary. She did not hear her husband's footstep, and when he approached her and placed his hand upon her shoulder she gave a nervous start.
"You are tired, dear one," said he, leading her towards the door where a seat was placed.
"Teacher, the leaves of a flower you gave me are withering, and mother says that is a bad omen."
