not once had her parents pitied her.

On the night with which this story opens, not knowing that
Lu-san was listening, her father and mother were planning how to
get rid of her.

"The mandarin cares only about boys," said he roughly. "A man might kill
a dozen girls and he wouldn't say a word."

"Lu-san's no good anyway," added the mother. "Our boat is small, and
she's always in the wrong place."

"Yes, and it takes as much to feed her as if she were a boy. If you say
so, I'll do it this very night."

"All right," she answered, "but you'd better wait till the moon has
set."

"Very well, wife, we'll let the moon go down first, and then the girl."

No wonder Lu-san's little heart beat fast with terror, for there could
be no doubt as to the meaning of her parents' words.

At last when she heard them snoring and knew they were both sound
asleep, she got up silently, dressed herself, and climbed the ladder
leading to the deck. Only one thought was in her heart, to save herself
by instant flight. There were no extra clothes, not a bite of food to
take with her. Besides the rags on her back there was only one thing
she could call her own, a tiny soapstone image of the goddess Kwan-yin,
which she had found one day while walking in the sand. This was the only
treasure and plaything of her childhood, and if she had not watched
carefully, her mother would have taken even this away from her. Oh,
how she had nursed this idol, and how closely she had listened to the
stories an old priest had told about Kwan-yin the Goddess of Mercy, the
best friend of women and children, to whom they might always pray in
time of trouble.

It was very dark when Lu-san raised the trapdoor leading to the outer
air, and looked out into the night. The moon had just gone down, and
frogs were croaking along the shore. Slowly and carefully she pushed
against the door, for she was afraid that the wind coming in suddenly
might awaken the sleepers or, worse still, cause her to let the trap
fall with a bang. At last, however, she stood on the deck, alone and
ready to go out into the big world. As she stepped to the side of the
boat the black water did not make her feel afraid, and she went ashore
without the slightest tremble.

Now she ran quickly along the bank, shrinking back into the shadows
whenever she heard the noise of footsteps, and thus hiding from the
passers-by. Only once did her heart quake, full of fear. A huge boat dog
ran out at her ba