"She is a strange child," one of them whispered to her neighbor. "She says such very stupid things."
"Talking of story-tellers," cried one of them, "reminds me that once on the Festival of the Dead as I went to the hills to worship at the grave of my husband's ancestors, I heard a man tell such a wonderful story. If I had had any cash I would have given it to him. It was all about a great lady whose husband pretended to be dead and afterwards came back to life and cut her head off. He said he knew a great many delightful tales that he had read in books, and I would have loved to listen to him all day, but my husband said a woman could not understand such things."
"Oh I would love to read," Tuen breathed eagerly, and the women laughed at this speech and said she was truly foolish. Tuen blushed and hung her head, and after this she was silent.
* * * * * * *
A year had passed since Tuen came to live at the Viceroy's yâmen, and in that time she had grown taller, fairer, and now was budding into womanhood, or at least so it was considered in that land, where girls of twelve years old are thought mature enough to marry. She had become a great favorite with every one in the palace on account of her amiable disposition and kindness to every one, and even the Viceroy's wife had forgotten her former prejudice and took a kindly interest in her. Wang, seeing that her fingers were nimble and her hand steady, had long ago promoted her to a place before the embroidery frame, and was delighted to see how skilful the girl was with the needle. She taught Tuen to embroider on delicate silks and crêpes the most beautiful flowers in nature's garden, and many strange creeping things that were said to live at the bottom of the sea and turn yellow if the sun shone on them, so they must always be worked in glittering gilt thread, bright as the sunshine. And such charming colors as she day by day painted in with her needle! No wonder that finally she made many garments for little Tung-li, the only child of the proud Viceroy, and gorgeous robes they were to behold. At last Wang's pride in her pupil caused her to suggest that Tuen should make a tunic for the Viceroy as a present on the coming New Year, for it is the Chinese custom to exchange gifts at that season. So Tuen went to work on a piece of lustrous purple satin, and scattered over it half-open pink buds, and crimson blossoms, and yellow flowers strung together with gold thread, and upon the breast of it she worked the golden lily. Very proud was she of her handiwork when the last stitch had been taken and she held it up before Wang's admiring gaze, and truly it was a robe fit to be worn by the Emperor himself.
"How can I ever repay you, dear Wang," Tuen cried, "for teaching me to do this? If it only brings me favor with the Viceroy I shall be so happy!"
And Wang, not understanding the secret Tuen had locked within her heart, answered half laughing, but perhaps with a grain of seriousness under the jest:
"By having me for your maid, little one, when you become a great lady."
"Indeed, indeed I will," the girl answered heartily, "and for even more than my maid. You shall be my friend, my mother."
And this promise she did not forget.