Free Gold Mountain by Karen J. Hasley

cut me another slice of bread.
    Wednesday afternoon a tall woman with a kind face opened the door of 920 to my knock and greeted me without introduction. “Welcome, Miss Hudson. I was told to expect you. I’m Frances Thompson, by the way. Please follow me.”
    I walked up two flights of steps and entered the infirmary where the little girl from yesterday’s rescue lay quietly. “She’s very still. Is she—?”
    I couldn’t finish the question, and Miss Thompson answered quickly, “She awoke this morning and ate again. The doctor said he believes that with nourishment and rest she will recover completely.” As I approached the child’s cot, Miss Thompson explained, “Dolly is away right now, but she told me to expect you and to bring you up here as soon as you arrived, that you would want to know about the girl’s progress.”
    “Miss Cameron was exactly right.” I leaned down to place a hand on the little girl’s forehead. “Do we know her name?” At my touch, the child opened dark eyes rimmed with long, black lashes and stared right at me. “It’s all right,” I told her quickly in Chinese. “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you here.”
    The child continued to study me. Then, as if she had finally placed my face or perhaps my voice, she smiled and spoke so quietly I could hardly hear her. I bent closer and caught her words, “Thank you, Qing.”
    “What is your name?” I asked, and she smiled again.
    “I am Suey Wah. You must have known that because I remember you called me your little bird. Only a very wise woman could know me even when I could not speak. You are Qing. I remember that, too. I have been waiting for you.”
    “Have you?” I straightened, smiling down at her bright gaze. “Only a very wise child could know I would be here before I ever arrived. How do you feel?”
    “Hungry.” She looked suddenly shy. “If it is not too bold to say so.”
    “It is not bold at all, just sensible.” I turned toward Frances Thompson. “Our new friend is called Suey Wah, and she says she is hungry.”
    “Good. I’ll leave you alone with her and arrange for something to be brought up right away,” adding, “Please let her know that she may be disappointed because it will be very light fare. We’ve seen it before that a starved child’s eyes are bigger than her stomach.”
    Soon after Frances Thompson left, Fei Yen entered with a tray that she set next to the child’s bed. “I am told you are Suey Wah. I am Fei Yen. You are safe here because a kind father watches over this house. I and many other girls live here under the care of the great Lo Mo.
    “Is Lo Mo the kind-faced woman who sat by my bed this morning?” Suey Wah asked.
    “Yes,” answered Fei Yen. “She is our mother.”
    “Then who is Qing?”
    “Qing?” Fei Yen repeated the name with bewilderment. “We have no Qing here.” The child brought out one thin arm from under her blanket and pointed at me. “This is Qing,” she announced firmly.
    “I was called Qing from early years,” I explained quickly to Fei Yen. “An old man in our village gave me the name. I don’t know why.”
    “Don’t you? Well, I think it was a good choice for more than one reason.” Fei Yen smiled at me, then turned to take a cloth napkin from the tray.
    “I’ll go now,” I disengaged my hand from Suey Wah’s surprisingly strong grasp, “and come again tomorrow. I know you will do as you are directed—eat and sleep and grow stronger.”
    “If that is your wish, Qing.” The contented trust in the girl’s voice humbled me.
    “Yes, my dear little bird, that is my wish. Now let Fei Yen give you something to make your stomach stop growling. I believe you must have swallowed a dragon to make such a noise.” Her little face creased into a broad smile at my weak attempt at humor.
    “Good-bye, Qing.”
    “Good-bye, Suey Wah.”
    The formalities concluded, she pushed herself into a sitting position and reached for the bread even before