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"How many have you?" questioned w.a.n.g more boldly.
"I counted them yesterday morning and there were fifteen."
"But did you count them again last night?"
"Yes, I did," answered Lin slowly.
"And there were only fourteen then?"
"Quite right, friend w.a.n.g, one of them was missing; but one duck is of little importance. Why do you speak of it?"
"What, no importance! losing a duck? How can you say so? A duck's a duck, isn't it, and surely you would like to know how you lost it?"
"A hawk most likely."
"No, it wasn't a hawk, but if you would go and look in old Sen's duck yard, you would likely find feathers."
"Nothing more natural, I am sure, in a duck yard."
"Yes, but your duck's feathers," persisted w.a.n.g.
"What! you think old Sen is a thief, do you, and that he has been stealing from me?"
"Exactly! you have it now."
"Well, well, that is too bad! I am sorry the old fellow is having such a hard time. He is a good worker and deserves better luck. I should willingly have given him the duck if he had only asked for it. Too bad that he had to steal it."
w.a.n.g waited to see how Mr. Lin planned to punish the thief, feeling sure that the least he could do, would be to go and give him a good scolding.
But nothing of the kind happened. Instead of growing angry, Mr. Lin seemed to be sorry for Sen, sorry that he was poor, sorry that he was willing to steal.
"Aren't you even going to give him a scolding?" asked w.a.n.g in disgust.
"Better go to his house with me and give him a good raking over the coals."
"What use, what use? Hurt a neighbour's feelings just for a duck? That would be foolish indeed."
By this time the Miser King had begun to feel an itching all over his body. The feathers had begun hurting again, and he was frightened once more. He became excited and threw himself on the floor in front of Mr.
Lin.
"Hey! what's the matter, man?" cried Lin, thinking w.a.n.g was in a fit.
"What's the matter? Are you ill?"
"Yes, very ill," wailed w.a.n.g. "Mr. Lin, I'm a bad man, and I may as well own it at once and be done with it. There is no use trying to dodge the truth or hide a fault. I stole your duck last night, and to-day I came sneaking over here and tried to put the thing off on old Sen."
"Yes, I knew it," answered Lin. "I saw you carrying the duck off under your garment. Why did you come to see me at all if you thought I did not know you were guilty?"
"Only wait, and I'll tell you everything," said w.a.n.g, bowing still lower. "After I had boiled your duck and eaten it, I went to bed. Pretty soon I felt an itching all over my body. I could not sleep and in the morning I found that I had a thick growth of duck's feathers from head to foot. The more I pulled them out, the thicker they grew in. I could hardly keep from screaming. I took to my bed, and after I had tossed about for hours a fairy came and told me that I could never get rid of my trouble unless I got you to give me a thorough scolding. Here is the money for your duck. Now for the love of mercy, scold, and do it quickly, for I can't stand the pain much longer."
w.a.n.g was grovelling in the dirt at Lin's feet, but Lin answered him only with a loud laugh which finally burst into a roar. "Duck feathers! ha!
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.