sat down on a bench. In his hand he held a pipe with a brass bowl and an ivory mouthpiece and a stem of mottled bamboo more than six feet long. Six Pounds sneaked out from behind the tree and sat down beside him, greeting him, "dieh-dieh," but Seven Pounds paid no attention to her.
"Each generation worse than the last!" old Mrs. Nine Pounds said again.
Seven Pounds raised his head slowly and said with a sigh, "The Emperor has mounted the Dragon Throne."[1]
For a moment Sister Seven Pounds was stupefied by the announcement, but then said with comprehension, "This is fine, for does it not mean that there will be general pardon by imperial grace?"
Seven Pounds sighed again and said, "I have no queue."
"Does the Emperor require queues?"
"The Emperor requires queues."
"How do you know?" Sister Seven Pounds asked, somewhat alarmed.
"Every one in the Hsien Heng wine shop says so."
Sister Seven Pounds began to feel that things looked black indeed for her husband, if they said so at the Hsien Heng wine shop, the chief source of news for the village. Glancing at her husband's shaven head, she could not suppress a mounting anger and resentment against him for having jeopardized his own safety. She almost hated him. In despair she filled a bowl with rice and thrust it in front of him and said, "You had better eat your rice. You will not grow a queue by pulling a long face!"
Imperceptibly the sun gathered up its last rays and the river recovered its coolness. The clatter of chopsticks and bowls echoed all over the open space and beads of sweat
- ↑ This alludes to the brief restoration of the Manchu dynasty in 1917.
