"I heard nothing."
"Has the Emperor mounted the Dragon Throne?"
"They did not say."
"Didn't anyone at the Hsien Heng tavern say anything about it?"
"No one said anything there either."
"I think the Emperor is not going to mount the Dragon Throne after all. I passed by Mr. Chao's shop today and saw that he was reading his books again. His queue is again coiled up on top of his head and he did not wear his long gown."
"Mm . . . "
"Don't you suppose that the Emperor is not going to mount the Dragon Throne after all?"
"I suppose, perhaps not."
Seven Pounds has long since recovered the respect of the villagers and of his wife and is treated by them with the consideration due to a person of his standing. Now as they are gathered in the open space before their respective gates for their summer meals, they again greet one another with good-natured laughter. Mrs. Nine Pounds celebrated her eighteenth birthday long ago, and is as disgruntled and strong as ever. The two hornlike queues of Six Pounds have now grown into one braid. Although she has just begun to bind her feet, she is still able to help Sister Seven Pounds with the household chores. She is seen hobbling about the open space along the river bank now, the bowl with sixteen brass clasps in her hand.
