ortune moment so you might, on your way out, tell the servant-boys at the back gate to hire a carriage; and on its return you can come here and get the money. But don't let them rush recklessly against people in the front part of the compound!"

The matrons signified their obedience and took their leave. Hsi Jen retraced her steps into the house to fetch a tray in which to place the presents intended for Shih Hsiang-yün, but she discovered the shelf for trays empty. Upon turning round, however, she caught sight of Ch'ing Wen, Ch'iu Wen, She Yüeh and the other girls, seated together, busy with their needlework. "Where is the white cornelian tray with twisted threads gone to?" Hsi Jen asked.

At this question, one looked at the one, and the other stared at the other, but none of them could remember anything about it. After a protracted lapse of time, Ch'ing Wen smiled. "It was taken to Miss Tertia's with a present of lichees," she rejoined, "and it hasn't as yet been returned."

"There are plenty of articles," Hsi Jen remarked, "for sending over things on ordinary occasions; and do you deliberately go and carry this off?"

"Didn't I maintain the same thing?" Ch'ing Wen retorted. "But so well did this tray match with the fresh lichees it contained, that when I took it over, Miss T'an Ch'un herself noticed the fact. 'How splendid,' she said, and lo, putting even the tray by, she never had it brought over. But, look! hasn't the pair of beaded vases, which stood on the very top of that shelf, been fetched as yet?"

"The mention of these vases," Ch'iu Wen laughed, "reminds me again of a funny incident. Whenever our Mr. Pao-yü's filial piety is aroused, he shows himself filial over and above the highest degree! The other day, he espied the olea flowers in the park, and he plucked two twigs. His original idea was to place them in a vase for himself, but a sudden thought struck him. 'These are flowers,' he mused, 'which have newly opened in our garden, so how can I presume to be the first to enjoy them?' And actually taking down that pair of vases, he filled them with water with his own hands, put the flowers in, and, calling a servant to carry them, he in person took one of the vases into dowager lady Chia's, and then took the other to Madame Wang's. But, as it happens, even his attendants reap some benefit, when once his filial feelings are stirred up! As luck would have it, the one who carried the vases over on that day was myself. The sight of these flowers so enchanted our venerable lady that there was nothing that she wouldn't do. 'Pao-yü,' she said to every one she met, 'is the one, after all, who shows me much attention. So much so, that he has even thought of bringing me a twig of flowers! And yet, the others bear me a grudge on account of the love that I lavish on him!' Our venerable mistress, you all know very well, has never had much to say to me. I have all along not been much of a favourite in the old lady's eyes. But on that occasion she verily directed some one to give me several hundreds of cash. 'I was to be pitied,' she observed, 'for being born with a weak physique!' This was, indeed, an unforeseen piece of good luck! The several hundreds of cash are a mere trifle; but what's not easy to get is this sort of honour! After that, we went over into Madame Wang's. Madame Wang was, at the time, with our lady Secunda, Mrs. Chao, and a whole lot of people; turning the boxes topsy-turvey, trying to find some coloured clothes her ladyship had worn long ago in her youth, so as to give them to some one or other. Who it was, I don't know. But the moment she saw us, she did not even think of searching for any clothes, but got lost in admiration for the flowers. Our lady Secunda was also standing by, and she made sport of the matter. She extolled our master Pao, for his filial piety and for his knowledge of right and wrong; and what with what was true and what wasn't, she came out with two cart-loads of compliments. These things spoken in the presence of the whole company so added to Madame Wang's lustre and sealed every one's mouth, that her ladyship was more and more filled with gratification, and she gave me two ready-made clothes as a present. These too are of no consequence; one way or another, we get some every year; but nothing can come up to this sort of lucky chance!"

"Psha!" Ch'ing Wen ejaculated with a significant smile, "you are indeed a mean thing, who has seen nothing of the world! She gave the good ones to others and the refuse to you; and do you still pat on all this side?"

"No matter whether what she gave me was refuse or not," Ch'iu Wen protested, "it's, after all, an act of bounty on the part of her ladyship."

"Had it been myself," Ch'ing Wen pursued, "I would at once have refused them! It wouldn't have mattered if she had given me what had been left by some one else; but we all stand on an equal footing in these rooms, and is there any one, forsooth, so much the more exalted or honorable than the other as to justify her taking what is good and bestowing it upon her and giving me what is left? I had rather not take them! I might have had to give offence to Madame Wang, but I wouldn't have put up with such a slight!"

"To whom did she give any in these rooms?" Ch'iu Wen vehemently inquired. "I was unwell and went home for several days, so that I am not aware to whom any were given. Dear sister, do tell me who it is so that I may know."

"Were I to tell you," Ch'ing Wen rejoined, "is it likely that you would return them at this hour to Madame Wang?"

"What nonsense," Ch'iu Wen laughed. "Ever since I've heard about it, I've been delighted and happy. No matter if she even bestowed upon me what remained from anything given to a dog in these rooms, I would have been thankful for her ladyship's kindness. I wouldn't have worried my mind with anything else!"

After listening to her, everybody laughed. "Doesn't she know how to jeer in fine style!" they ejaculated unanimously; "for weren't they given to that foreign spotted pug dog?"

"You lot of filthy-tongued creatures!" Hsi Jen laughed, "when you've got nothing to do, you make me the scapegoat to crack your jokes, and poke your fun at! But what kind of death will, I wonder, each of you have!"

"Was it verily you, sister, who got them?" Ch'iu Wen asked with a smile.

"I assure you I had no idea about it! I tender you my apologies."

"You might be a little less domineering!" Hsi Jen remarked smilingly.

"The thing now is, who of you will go and fetch the tray."

"The vases too," Shih Yüeh suggested, "must be got back when there's any time to spare; for there's nothing to say about our venerable mistress' quarters, but Madame Wang's apartments teem with people and many hands. The rest are all right; but Mrs. Chao and all that company will, when they see that the vase hails from these rooms, surely again foster evil designs, and they won't feel happy until they've done all they can to spoil it! Besides, Madame Wang doesn't trouble herself about such things. So had we not as well bring it over a moment sooner?"

Hearing this, Ch'ing Wen threw down her needlework. "What you say is perfectly right," she assented, "so you'd better let me go and fetch it."

"I'll, after all, go for it." Ch'iu Wen cried. "You can go and get that tray of yours!"

"You should let me once go for something!" Ch'ing Wen pleaded. "Whenever any lucky chance has turned up, you've invariably grabbed it; and can it be that you won't let me have a single turn?"

"Altogether," She Yüeh said laughingly, "that girl Ch'iu Wen got a few clothes just once; can such a lucky coincidence present itself again today that you too should find them engaged in searching for clothes?"

"Albeit I mayn't come across any clothes," Ch'ing Wen rejoined with a sardonic smile, "our Madame Wang may notice how diligent I am, and apportion me a couple of taels out of her public expenses; there's no saying." Continuing, "Don't you people," she laughed, "try and play your pranks with me; for is there anything that I don't twig?"

As she spoke, she ran outside. Ch'iu Wen too left the room in her company; but she repaired to T'an Ch'un's quarters and fetched the tray.

Hsi Jen then got everything ready. Calling an old nurse attached to the same place as herself, Sung by name, "Just go first and wash, comb your hair and put on your out-of-door clothes," she said to her, "and then come back as I want to send you at once with a present to Miss Shih."

"Miss," urged the nurse Sung, "just give me what you have; and, if you have any message, tell it me; so that when I've tidied myself I may go straightway."

Hsi Jen, at this proposal, brought two small twisted wire boxes; and, opening first the one in which were two kinds of fresh fruits, consisting of caltrops and "chicken head" fruit, and afterwards uncovering the other, containing a tray with new cakes, made of chestnut powder, and steamed in sugar, scented with the olea, "All these fresh fruits are newly plucked this year from our own garden," she observed; "our Mr. Secundus sends them to Miss Shih to taste. The other day, too, she was quite taken with this cornelian tray so let her keep it for her use. In this silk bag she'll find the work, which she asked me some time ago to do for her. (Tell her) that she mustn't despise it for its coarseness, but make the best of it and turn it to some account. Present respects to her from our part and inquire after her health on behalf of Mr. Pao-yü; that will be all there's to say."

"Has Mr. Pao, I wonder, anything more for me to tell her?" the nurse Sung added, "Miss, do go and inquire, so that on my return, he mayn't again say that I forgot."

"He was just now," Hsi Jen consequently asked Ch'iu Wen, "over there in

Miss Tertia's rooms, wasn't he?"

"They were all assembled there, deliberating about starting some poetical society or other," Ch'iu Wen explained, "and they all wrote verses too. But I fancy he's got no message to give you; so you might as well start."

After this assurance, nurse Sung forthwith took the things, and quitted the apartment. When she had changed her clothes and arranged her hair, Hsi Jen further enjoined them to go by the back door, where there was a servant-boy, waiting with a curricle. Nurse Sung thereupon set out on her errand. But we will leave her for the present.

In a little time Pao-yü came back. After first cursorily glancing at the begonias for a time, he walked into his rooms, and explained to Hsi Jen all about the poetical society they had managed to establish, Hsi Jen then told him that she had sent the nurse Sung along with some things, to Shih Hsiang-yün. As soon as Pao-yü heard this, he clapped his hands. "I forgot all about her!" he cried. "I knew very well that I had something to attend to; but I couldn't remember what it was! Luckily, you've alluded to her! I was just meaning to ask her to come, for what fun will there be in this poetical society without her?"

"Is this of any serious import?" Hsi Jen reasoned with him. "It's all, for the mere sake of recreation! She's not however able to go about at her own free will as you people do. Nor can she at home have her own way. When you therefore let her know, it won't again rest with her, however willing she may be to avail herself of your invitation. And if she can't come, she will long and crave to be with you all, so isn't it better that you shouldn't be the means of making her unhappy?"

"Never mind!" responded Pao-yü. "I'll tell our venerable senior to despatch some one to bring her over."

But in the middle of their conversation, nurse Sung returned already from her mission, and expressed to him, (Hsiang-yün's) acknowledgment; and to Hsi Jen her thanks for the trouble. "She also inquired," the nurse proceeded, "what you, master Secundus, were up to, and I told her that you had started some poetical club or other with the young ladies and that you were engaged in writing verses. Miss Shih wondered why it was, if you were writing verses, that you didn't even mention anything to her; and she was extremely distressed about it."

Pao-yü, at these words, turned himself round and betook himself immediately into his grandmother's apartments, where he did all that lay in his power to urge her to depute servants to go and fetch her.

"It's too late to-day," dowager lady Chia answered; "they'll go tomorrow, as soon as it's daylight."

Pao-yü had no other course but to accede to her wishes. He, however, retraced his steps back to his room with a heavy heart. On the morrow, at early dawn, he paid another visit to old lady Chia and brought pressure to bear on her until she sent some one for her. Soon after midday, Shih Hsiang-yün arrived. Pao-yü felt at length much relieved in his mind. Upon meeting her, he recounted to her all that had taken place from beginning to end. His purpose was likewise to let her see the poetical composition, but Li Wan and the others remonstrated. "Don't," they said, "allow her to see them! First tell her the rhymes and number of feet; and, as she comes late, she should, as a first step, pay a penalty by conforming to the task we had to do. Should what she writes be good, then she can readily be admitted as a member of the society; but if not good, she should be further punished by being made to stand a treat; after which, we can decide what's to be done."

"You've forgotten to ask me round," Hsiang-yün laughed, "and I should, after all, fine you people! But produce the metre; for though I don't excel in versifying, I shall exert myself to do the best I can, so as to get rid of every slur. If you will admit me into the club, I shall be even willing to sweep the floors and burn the incense."

When they all saw how full of fun she was, they felt more than ever delighted with her and they reproached themselves, for having somehow or other managed to forget her on the previous day. But they lost no time in telling her the metre of the verses.

Shih Hsiang-yün was inwardly in ecstasies. So much so, that she could not wait to beat the tattoo and effect any alterations. But having succeeded, while conversing with her cousins, in devising a stanza in her mind, she promptly inscribed it on the first piece of paper that came to hand. "I have," she remarked, with a precursory smile, "stuck to the metre and written two stanzas. Whether they be good or bad, I cannot say; all I've kept in view was to simply comply with your wishes."

So speaking, she handed her paper to the company.

"We thought our four stanzas," they observed, "had so thoroughly exhausted everything that could be imagined on the subject that another stanza was out of the question, and there you've devised a couple more! How could there be so much to say? These must be mere repetitions of our own sentiments."

While bandying words, they perused her two stanzas. They found this to be their burden:

No. 1.

The fairies yesterday came down within the city gates,

And like those gems, sown in the grassy field, planted one pot.

How clear it is that the goddess of frost is fond of cold!

It is no question of a pretty girl bent upon death!

Where does the snow, which comes in gloomy weather, issue from?

The drops of rain increase the prints, left from the previous night.

How the flowers rejoice that bards are not weary of song!

But are they ever left to spend in peace a day or night?

No. 2.

The "heng chih" covered steps lead to the creeper-laden door.

How fit to plant by the corner of walls; how fit for pots?

The flowers so relish purity that they can't find a mate.

Easy in autumn snaps the soul of sorrow-wasted man.

The tears, which from the jade-like candle drip, dry in the wind.

The crystal-like portiere asunder rends Selene's rays.

Their private feelings to the moon goddess they longed to tell,

But gone, alas! is the lustre she shed on the empty court!

Every line filled them with wonder and admiration. What they read, they praised. "This," they exclaimed, with one consent, "is not writing verses on the begonia for no purpose! We must really start a Begonia Society!"

"To-morrow," Shih Hsiang-yün proposed, "first fine me by making me stand a treat, and letting me be the first to convene a meeting; may I?"

"This would be far better!" they all assented. So producing also the verses, composed the previous day, they submitted them to her for criticism.

In the evening, Hsiang-yün came at the invitation of Pao-ch'ai, to the Heng Wu Yüan to put up with her for the night. By lamplight, Hsiang-yün consulted with her how she was to play the hostess and fix upon the themes; but, after lending a patient ear to all her proposals for a long time, Pao-ch'ai thought them so unsuitable for the occasion, that turning towards her, she raised objections. "If you want," she said, "to hold a meeting, you have to pay the piper. And albeit it's for mere fun, you have to make every possible provision; for while consulting your own interests, you must guard against giving umbrage to people. In that case every one will afterwards be happy and contented. You count for nothing too in your own home; and the whole lump sum of those few tiaos, you draw each month, are not sufficient for your own wants, and do you now also wish to burden yourself with this useless sort of thing? Why, if your aunt gets wind of it, won't she be more incensed with you than ever! What's more, even though you might fork out all the money you can call your own to bear the outlay of this entertainment with, it won't be anything like enough, and can it possibly be, pray, that you would go home for the express purpose of requisitioning the necessary funds? Or will you perchance ask for some from in here?"

This long tirade had the effect of bringing the true facts of the case to Hsiang-yün's notice, and she began to waver in a state of uncertainty.

"I have already fixed upon a plan in my mind," Pao-ch'ai resumed. "There's an assistant in our pawnshop from whose family farm come some splendid crabs. Some time back, he sent us a few as a present, and now, starting from our venerable senior and including the inmates of the upper quarters, most of them are quite in love with crabs. It was only the other day that my mother mentioned that she intended inviting our worthy ancestor into the garden to look at the olea flowers and partake of crabs, but she has had her hands so full that she hasn't as yet asked her round. So just you now drop the poetical meeting, and invite the whole crowd to a show; and if we wait until they go, won't we be able to indite as many poems as we like? But let me speak to my brother and ask him to let us have several baskets of the fattest and largest crabs he can get, and to also go to some shop and fetch several jars of luscious wine. And if we then lay out four or five tables with plates full of refreshments, won't we save trouble and all have a jolly time as well?"

As soon as Hsiang-yün heard (the alternative proposed by Pao-ch'ai,) she felt her heart throb with gratitude and in most profuse terms she praised her for her forethought.

"The proposal I've made." Pao-ch'ai pursued smilingly; "is prompted entirely by my sincere feelings for you; so whatever you do don't be touchy and imagine that I look down upon you; for in that case we two will have been good friends all in vain. But if you won't give way to suspicion, I'll be able to tell them at once to go and get things ready."

"My dear cousin," eagerly rejoined Hsiang-yün, a smile on her lips, "if you say these things it's you who treat me with suspicion; for no matter how foolish a person I may be, as not to even know what's good and bad, I'm still a human being! Did I not regard you, cousin, in the same light as my own very sister, I wouldn't last time have had any wish or inclination to disclose to you every bit of those troubles, which ordinarily fall to my share at home."

After listening to these assurances, Pao-ch'ai summoned a matron and bade her go out and tell her master, Hsüeh P'an, to procure a few hampers of crabs of the same kind as those which were sent on the previous occasion. "Our venerable senior," (she said,) "and aunt Wang are asked to come to-morrow after their meal and admire the olea flowers, so mind, impress upon your master to please not forget, as I've already to-day issued the invitations."

The matron walked out of the garden and distinctly delivered the message. But, on her return, she brought no reply.

During this while, Pao-ch'ai continued her conversation with Hsiang-yün. "The themes for the verses," she advised her, "mustn't also be too out-of-the-way. Just search the works of old writers, and where will you find any eccentric and peculiar subjects, or any extra difficult metre! If the subject be too much out-of-the-way and the metre too difficult, one cannot get good verses. In a word, we are a mean lot and our verses are certain, I fear, to consist of mere repetitions. Nor is it advisable for us to aim at excessive originality. The first thing for us to do is to have our ideas clear, as our language will then not be commonplace. In fact, this sort of thing is no vital matter; spinning and needlework are, in a word, the legitimate duties of you and me. Yet, if we can at any time afford the leisure, it's only right and proper that we should take some book, that will benefit both body and mind, and read a few chapters out of it."

Hsiang-yün simply signified her assent. "I'm now cogitating in my mind," she then laughingly remarked, "that as the verses we wrote yesterday treated of begonias, we should, I think, compose on this occasion some on chrysanthemums, eh? What do you say?"

"Chrysanthemums are in season," Pao-ch'ai replied. "The only objection to them is that too many writers of old have made them the subject of their poems."

"I also think so," Hsiang-yün added, "so that, I fear, we shall only be following in their footsteps."

After some reflection, Pao-ch'ai exclaimed, "I've hit upon something! If we take, for the present instance, the chrysanthemums as a secondary term, and man as the primary, we can, after all, select several themes. But they must all consist of two characters: the one, an empty word; the other, a full one. The full word might be chrysanthemums; while for the empty one, we might employ some word in general use. In this manner, we shall, on one hand, sing the chrysanthemum; and, on the other, compose verses on the theme. And as old writers have not written much in this style, it will be impossible for us to drift into the groove of their ideas. Thus in versifying on the scenery and in singing the objects, we will, in both respects, combine originality with liberality of thought."

"This is all very well," smiled Hsiang-yün. "The only thing is what kind of empty words will, I wonder, be best to use? Just you first think of one and let me see."

Pao-ch'ai plunged in thought for a time, after which she laughingly remarked: "Dream of chrysanthemums is good."

"It's positively good!" Hsiang-yün smiled. "I've also got one: 'the

Chrysanthemum shadow,' will that do?"

"Well enough," Pao-ch'ai answered, "the only objection is that people have written on it; yet if the themes are to be many, we might throw this in. I've got another one too!"

"Be quick, and tell it!" Hsiang-yün urged.

"What do you say to 'ask the Chrysanthemums?'" Pao-ch'ai observed.

Hsiang-yün clapped her hand on the table. "Capital," she cried. "I've thought of one also." She then quickly continued, "It is, search for chrysanthemums; what's your idea about it?"

Pao-ch'ai thought that too would do very well. "Let's choose ten of them first," she next proposed; "and afterwards note them down!"

While talking, they rubbed the ink and moistened the pens. These preparations over, Hsiang-yün began to write, while Pao-ch'ai enumerated the themes. In a short time, they got ten of them.

"Ten don't form a set," Hsiang-yün went on to smilingly suggest, after reading them over. "We'd better complete them by raising their number to twelve; they'll then also be on the same footing as people's pictures and books."

Hearing this proposal, Pao-ch'ai devised another couple of themes, thus bringing them to a dozen. "Well, since we've got so far," she pursued, "let's go one step further and copy them out in their proper order, putting those that are first, first; and those that come last, last."

"It would be still better like that," Hsiang-yün acquiesced, "as we'll be able to make up a 'chrysanthemum book.'"

"The first stanza should be: 'Longing for chrysanthemums,'" Pao-chai said, "and as one cannot get them by wishing, and has, in consequence, to search for them, the second should be 'searching for chrysanthemums.' After due search, one finds them, and plants them, so the third must be: 'planting chrysanthemums.' After they've been planted, they, blossom, and one faces them and enjoys them, so the fourth should be 'facing the chrysanthemums.' By facing them, one derives such excessive delight that one plucks them and brings them in and puts them in vases for one's own delectation, so the fifth must be 'placing chrysanthemums in vases.' If no verses are sung in their praise, after they've been placed in vases, it's tantamount to seeing no point of beauty in chrysanthemums, so the sixth must be 'sing about chrysanthemums.' After making them the burden of one's song, one can't help representing them in pictures. The seventh place should therefore be conceded to 'drawing chrysanthemums.' Seeing that in spite of all the labour bestowed on the drawing of chrysanthemums, the fine traits there may be about them are not yet, in fact, apparent, one impulsively tries to find them out by inquiries, so the eighth should be 'asking the chrysanthemums.' As any perception, which the chrysanthemums might display in fathoming the questions set would help to make the inquirer immoderately happy, the ninth must be 'pinning the chrysanthemums in the hair.' And as after everything has been accomplished, that comes within the sphere of man, there will remain still some chrysanthemums about which something could be written, two stanzas on the 'shadow of the chrysanthemums,' and the 'dream about chrysanthemums' must be tagged on as numbers ten and eleven. While the last section should be 'the withering of the chrysanthemums' so as to bring to a close the sentiments expressed in the foregoing subjects. In this wise the fine scenery and fine doings of the third part of autumn, will both alike be included in our themes."

Hsiang-yün signified her approval, and taking the list she copied it out clean. But after once more passing her eye over it, she went on to inquire what rhymes should be determined upon.

"I do not, as a rule, like hard-and-fast rhymes," Pao-ch'ai retorted. "It's evident enough that we can have good verses without them, so what's the use of any rhymes to shackle us? Don't let us imitate that mean lot of people. Let's simply choose our subject and pay no notice to rhymes. Our main object is to see whether we cannot by chance hit upon some well-written lines for the sake of fun. It isn't to make this the means of subjecting people to perplexities."

"What you say is perfectly right," Hsiang-yün observed. "In this manner our poetical composition will improve one step higher. But we only muster five members, and there are here twelve themes. Is it likely that each one of us will have to indite verses on all twelve?"

"That would be far too hard on the members!" Pao-ch'ai rejoined. "But let's copy out the themes clean, for lines with seven words will have to be written on every one, and stick them to-morrow on the wall for general perusal. Each member can write on the subject which may be most in his or her line. Those, with any ability, may choose all twelve. While those, with none, may only limit themselves to one stanza. Both will do. Those, however, who will show high mental capacity, combined with quickness, will be held the best. But any one, who shall have completed all twelve themes, won't be permitted to hasten and begin over again; we'll have to fine such a one, and finish."

"Yes, that will do," assented Hsiang-yün. But after settling everything satisfactorily, they extinguished the lamp and went to bed.

Reader, do you want to know what subsequently took place? If you do, then listen to what is contained in the way of explanation in the following chapter.