Part 19 (2/2)
ha! ha! and all over your body? Why, that's too good a story to believe!
You'll be wanting to live in the water next. Ha! Ha! Ha!”
”Scold me! scold me!” begged w.a.n.g, ”for the love of the G.o.ds scold me!”
But Lin only laughed the louder. ”Pray let me see this wonderful growth of feathers first, and then we'll talk about the scolding.”
w.a.n.g willingly opened his garment and showed the doubting Lin that he had been really speaking the truth.
”They must be warm,” said Lin, laughing. ”Winter is soon coming and you are not over fond of work. Won't they save you the trouble of wearing clothing?”
”But they make me itch so I can scarcely stand it! I feel like screaming out, the pain is so great,” and again w.a.n.g got down and began to kowtow to the other; that is, he knelt and b.u.mped his forehead against the ground.
”Be calm, my friend, and give me time to think of some good scold-words,” said Lin at last. ”I am not in the habit of using strong language, and very seldom lose my temper. Really you must give me time to think of what to say.”
By this time w.a.n.g was in such pain that he lost all power over himself.
He seized Mr. Lin by the legs crying out, ”Scold me! scold me!”
Mr. Lin was now out of patience with his visitor. Besides w.a.n.g was holding him so tightly that it really felt as if Lin were being pinched by some gigantic crawfish. Suddenly Lin could hold his tongue no longer: ”You lazy hound! you whelp! you turtle! you lazy, good-for-nothing creature! I wish you would hurry up and roll out of this!”
Now, in China, this is very strong language, and, with a cry of joy, w.a.n.g leaped from the ground, for he knew that Lin had scolded him. No sooner had the first hasty words been spoken than the feathers began falling from the lazy man's body, and, at last, the dreadful itching had entirely stopped. On the floor in front of Lin lay a great pile of feathers, and w.a.n.g freed from his trouble, pointed to them and said, ”Thank you kindly, my dear friend, for the pretty names you have called me. You have saved my life, and, although I have paid for the duck, I wish to add to the bargain by making you a present of these handsome feathers. They will, in a measure, repay you for your splendid set of scold-words. I have learned my lesson well, I hope, and I shall go out from here a better man. Fairy Old Boy told me that I was lazy. You agree with the fairy. From this day, however, you shall see that I can bend my back like a good fellow. Good-bye, and, many thanks for your kindness.”
So saying, with many low bows and polite words, w.a.n.g left the duck owner's house, a happier and a wiser man.
LU-SAN, DAUGHTER OF HEAVEN
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Lu-san went to bed without any supper, but her little heart was hungry for something more than food. She nestled up close beside her sleeping brothers, but even in their slumber they seemed to deny her that love which she craved. The gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the houseboat, music which had so often lulled her into dreamland, could not quiet her now. Scorned and treated badly by the entire family, her short life had been full of grief and shame.
Lu-san's father was a fisherman. His life had been one long fight against poverty. He was ignorant and wicked. He had no more feeling of love for his wife and five children than for the street dogs of his native city. Over and over he had threatened to drown them one and all, and had been prevented from doing so only by fear of the new mandarin.
His wife did not try to stop her husband when he sometimes beat the children until they fell half dead upon the deck. In fact, she herself was cruel to them, and often gave the last blow to Lu-san, her only daughter. Not on one day in the little girl's memory had she escaped this daily whipping, 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.
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