As soon as she had left his presence she ran to find Wang, and throwing herself in the arms of this faithful friend she sobbed:
"Oh, Wang, Wang, I am to be taught to read. The Viceroy has said it."
"Taught to read?" Wang repeated blankly.
"Yes, to read," Tuen cried. "I begged it of him, and at first he would not, and then he finally consented, and oh, Wang, I feel as if I should die for joy."
"I am sure I don't know what you want to read for," said the puzzled Wang, "but I do know that there is not another master in all China who would have granted such a favor to a slave. You are a lucky girl to have been bought by him, for he is the kindest man in the land. Any one else would have beaten you for asking such a thing. You had better pray to the gods every day that you shall always belong to him."
CHAPTER IX.
By the time the festival of Pai-shan came—the day when all go to worship at the graves of their ancestors—Tuen had already commenced to struggle with the queer, sprawling hieroglyphics that fill the Chinese books, and she was so proud and happy that she could think of nothing else. The Viceroy was going in state to honor his forefathers, riding in his sedan, and followed by a long retinue of servants, and Tuen, Wang and Ta-ta had been allowed, as a special favor, to join this procession. As they left the yâmen Tuen was telling them of the wonderful characters she was trying to understand, and of the delight of learning about them, and Ta-ta laughed good-naturedly.