“Yet it cannot be denied, when a reliable system is adopted in the fabrication,” protested Lin. “For a score and five years the one to whom this person owes his being has worn such a robe.”
“To what age did your venerated father attain?” inquired the merchant, with courteous interest.
“Fourscore years and three parts of yet another score.”
“And the robe in question eventually accompanied him when he Passed Beyond?”
“Doubtless it will. He is still wearing it,” replied Lin, as one who speaks of casual occurrences.
“Is he, then, at so advanced an age, in the state of an ordinary existence?”
“Assuredly. Fortified by the virtue emanating from the garment referred to, it is his deliberate intention to continue here for yet another score of years at least.”
“But if such robes are of so dubious a nature how can reliance be placed on any one?”
“Esteemed,” replied Lin, “it is a matter that has long been suspected among the observant. Unfortunately, the Ruby Buttons of the past mistakenly formulated that the essence of continuous existence was imparted to a burial robe through the hands of a young maiden—hence so many deplorable experiences. The proper person to be so employed is undoubtedly one of ripe attainment, for only thereby can the claim to possess the vital principle be assured.”
“Was the robe which has so effectively sustained your meritorious father thus constructed?” inquired Wang Ho, inviting Lin to recline himself upon a couch by a gesture as of one who discovers for the first time that an honoured guest has been overlooked.