and shrimps, and bean-cakes filled with almonds, and pear-shaped muskmelons, and bamboo sprouts, and last of all a wonderful and symbolic pudding filled with mysterious things and tasting most delectably. All this was accompanied by countless tiny cups of hot weak wine and delicate jasmine tea, and enlivened by the stately converse of Mr. Huen. Though his remarks were delivered to them in a halting, second-hand fashion by the student, the boys soon perceived that Mr. Huen was a well-informed and very delightful gentleman.
It was not until after the last shelled almond had been eaten and the guests had dipped their hands in silver bowls of petal-filled water and wiped their faces on hot perfumed towels that he spoke of the business in hand. While they listened, half incredulous, wholly spellbound, he told them that his father and his father's father had laid a sacred trust upon the sons of the house. There waited behind a sealed lacquer door a box, sealed, too, by the hand of T'ang Min. It would have waited, apparently, for another century, if a Mark Ingram had not come to claim it.
Mr. Huen rose and led the way from the
