The priest became more nettled than ever.
"What would you?" he said. "This locality is poor—and very miserly as well. Only on harvest-days do I receive alms in sufficiency for my welfare. As for renovation where shall I find funds? All the shrines for many miles lack repair, and some are even deserted by their keepers."
The devil in the boy leaped to the surface. With a rapid gesture his hand travelled to his belt, and with a flash he threw a bright silver coin on the matted floor as an offering.
"There," he said, "I have contributed."
The priest stood staring.
"Silver!" he exclaimed as if that had been the name of his God. "You carry silver!" Now he bent down and picked up the coin which he examined carefully.
"Yes, silver," assented Wang the Ninth, "an undoubted piece of silver."
"How is it that you who lack food have money?" said the priest. His manner was full of suspicion.
The boy laughed easily.
"It is this way. Many in our locality were employed in the city before the trouble commenced and they have all fled back. They had money in their belts, and two who had known my father gave me small contributions to help me on my way. Had it not been for this friendly help I would indeed have fared badly."