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Newspaper Page Text
THE JOSS STICKS
.By Frances Elizabeth Lanyon
(Copyright, 19l6, W. G. Chapman.)
"Yang Tiang sick velly siek."
"Indeed?" murmured Isabel Lane,
"I bling for him your dless. Yang
sit him up in bed to iron pretty dless.
But no more, he says. Close shop.
He going to die."
"Oh, dear!" fluttered gentle-hearted
Isabel. "His friends must take
care .of him."
if ino nenas, nearuessiy announced
the Chinese messenger of Yang
Tiang. "Me bling dless this once.
I ) Me busv mv own husiness. No more
time to splare, missy."
"What's the matter, sis?" inter
rupted Ned Lane, a younger brother,
.as she sat -with the dainty muslin
dress spread out on a chair before
her and her eyes full of tears. She
had a gentle soul and the incident
of the moment was infinitely pathet
ic to her. The thought of the old
laundryman ill, alone, suffering,
working under disadvantages of pain
and helplessness to have her dress
ready for her as promised, appealed
to her greatly.
"Could you go over to Yang's
place, Ned, and see if we can do any
thing for him?"' she asked.
"Sure I will," acceded the lad. "He
is a good scout with the boys. Sends
us on errands and is not stingy pay
ing for the service. Last Fourth he'
gave us some fine firecrackers direct
from China. Since Lionel Marsh
broke up the gang of hoodlums that
used to annoy him he's been quitet
Ned went away, but'returned with
in the hour. He was chewing some
sugared ginger sticks and full of
news and excitement. Yes, Yang,
was sick, growing weak and discour
aged. It was his birthday, too, and
he was homesick and lonesome.
"Tell you what, sis," sai Ned, "he
needs some one to stay around and
give him water and warm up his
rice. He wants me to do it and he
says he wjll give me a dollar. The
fellows expect me at a ball game,
but, outside of the dollar, I feel sorry
"You're a good boy, Ned," ap
proved Isabel warmly. "Wait until
I put up a few little dainties for
"He says he wants some Joss
sticks," resumed Ned. "Wants to
Yang Looked Less Gloomy
smoke away the bad spirits, he Says.
He's got the queerest little squat
stone image on a sort of altar and
some little vases to put the stick in.
What are Joss sticks, sis?"
"I think they are a sort of incense
taper," replied Isabel.
"Why, say," burst forth Ned ani
matedly, "I wonder if the sticks we
burn on the porch to keep the mos
quitos away aren't just- the thing!
Sis, there is a whole bunch of them
in the house. Can I have them?"