in a tone of vexation, "There you go again. When Six Pounds was born was she not actually six pounds and five ounces? Besides, your scales were specially made for you, with eighteen ounces to the pound. If a real sixteen-ounce scale had been used, our Six Pounds would have been over seven pounds. Come to think of it, grandfather and father might not have been actually nine or eight pounds. The scales used might have been only fourteen-ounce scales."
"Each generation worse than the last!"
Before Sister Seven Pounds answered, she suddenly espied her husband coming out of the lane. Thereupon she shifted the direction of her attack and shouted at him, "A fine time for you to be coming home, you dead corpse! Where did you hide off to die? You never care how long people hold up dinner for you, do you?"
Although Seven Pounds lived in the village, he was no ordinary peasant. Three generations, from his grandfather's time to his own, the men of his family had not touched the handle of a hoe. Like many other men of a more progressive nature, Seven Pounds made his living as a boatman. He made a round trip each day, in the morning from Luchen to the city and back to Luchen again by nightfall. Because of this he was well abreast of the times. For instance, he knew that at such and such a place the Thunder God struck dead a centipede monster, or that at such and such a place a maiden gave birth to a yaksha demon, and things of a like nature. He was, therefore, something of a personage in the village. However, in his family supper was still served without benefit of lamplight during the summer months, as was the custom of peasants, and he deserved a scolding for coming home so late.
Seven Pounds approached slowly, his head bowed, and
