The mandarin became sallow. “My poor memory——”
“I will call your escort.”
“When I think of it,” put in the mandarin hastily and with trepidation, “the name comes to me—it is the Valley of a Fountain.”
“Why?”
“Great Sir,” answered the mandarin with an excited burst of confidence, “I am to marry the daughter of this valley.”
“Ah?” A sympathetic inquisitiveness was in the Viceroy’s voice. “I suppose you will now want a leave of absence?”
The mandarin’s face became suffused with joy. Nothing could have prevented him from bowing repeatedly.
“Well,” commanded the Viceroy impatiently, “this only daughter, is she well dowered?”
“Great Sir, I do not know; I do not care!” he cried excitedly.
“What!” demanded the Viceroy, peering at him in amazement.