I was brushing my hair to try and get some of the dust out of it, and reflecting there was possibly some reason in so many Chinese women being bald. It must be much easier to keep a hairless head free from dust.
“Missie, Missie, innkeeper man, she say my Missie come in good time. Nine Dragon Temple,” he pointed upwards, and I knew with a sinking heart he meant the one I had watched all day and decided that to it I would not go, “open one time for ten day, never in year open any more,” and he looked at me to see his words sink in. They sank in right enough. I knew I was going there, but still I protested.
“I cannot walk up that mountain.”
“No walk, Missie no walk, can get chair.”
Still I struggled. “It will cost too much money.”
“Three dollars, Missie, can do. Not spend much monies,” and he looked at me as much as to say I would never let three dollars, about six shillings, stand between me and a wonder that was only open for ten days in the year, especially when I had arrived on the auspicious day.
“But what will you do, Tuan, I really cannot afford a chair for you,” for I knew my follower on every occasion, even when I should have walked made a point of riding. He looked at me, but I suppose he saw I had reached the limit of my forbearance. His chest swelled out virtuously.
“I strong young man, I walk.”
I made another effort. “But the bottom of the mountain is a good way off, how shall I get there?”
“I talkee 'cartee man,' he takee Missie two dollars.”