her parents were talking. Their
speech, however, seemed to be less harsh than usual, as if they were
near the bed of some sleeper whom they did not wish to wake.

"Why," said her father, "when I bent over to lift her from the bed,
there was a strange light about her face. I touched her on the arm, and
at once my hand hung limp as if it had been shot. Then I heard a voice
whispering in my ears, 'What! would you lay your wicked hands on one who
made the tears of Kwan-yin flow? Do you not know that when she cries the
gods themselves are weeping?'"

"I too heard that voice," said the mother, her voice trembling; "I heard
it, and it seemed as if a hundred wicked imps pricked me with spears, at
every prick repeating these terrible words, 'And would you kill a
daughter of the gods?'"

"It is strange," he added, "to think how we had begun to hate this
child, when all the time she belonged to another world than ours. How
wicked we must be since we could not see her goodness."

"Yes, and no doubt for every time we have struck her, a thousand blows
will be given us by Yama, for our insults to the gods."

Lu-san waited no longer, but rose to dress herself. Her heart was
burning with love for everything around her. She would tell her parents
that she forgave them, tell them how she loved them still in spite of
all their wickedness. To her surprise the ragged clothes were nowhere
to be seen. In place of them she found on one side of the bed the most
beautiful garments. The softest of silks, bright with flowers--so lovely
that she fancied they must have been taken from the garden of the
gods--were ready to slip on her little body. As she dressed herself she
saw with surprise that her fingers were shapely, that her skin was soft
and smooth. Only the day before, her hands had been rough and cracked by
hard work and the cold of winter. More and more amazed, she stooped to
put on her shoes. Instead of the worn-out soiled shoes of yesterday, the
prettiest little satin slippers were there all ready for her tiny feet.

[Illustration: AS SHE DRESSED HERSELF SHE SAW WITH SURPRISE THAT HER
FINGERS WERE SHAPELY.]

Finally she climbed the rude ladder, and lo, everything she touched
seemed to be changed as if by magic, like her gown. The narrow rounds of
the ladder had become broad steps of polished wood, and it seemed as if
she was mounting the polished stairway of some fairy-built pagoda. When
she reached the deck everything was changed.