A day after his wife’s funeral Nag Hong Fah, having sent a ceremonious letter, called on Yung Long in the latter’s store. In the motley, twisted annals of Pell Street the meeting, in the course of time, has assumed the character of something epic, something Homeric, something almost religious. It is mentioned with pride by both the Nag and the Yung clans; the tale of it has drifted to the Pacific Coast; and even in far China wise men speak of it with a hush of reverence as they drift down the river on their painted house-boats in peach-blossom time.
Yung Long received his caller at the open door of his shop.
“Deign to enter first,” he said, bowing.
Nag Hong Fah bowed still lower.
“How could I dare to?” he retorted, quoting a line from the “Book of Ceremonies and Exterior Demonstrations,” which proved that the manner is the heart’s inner feeling.
“Please deign to enter first,” Yung Long emphasized, and again the other gave the correct reply: “How should I dare?”
Then, after a final request, still protesting, he entered as he was bidden. The grocer followed, walked to the east side of the store and indicated the west side to his visitor as Chinese courtesy demands.
“Deign to choose your mat,” he went on and, after several coy refusals, Nag Hong Fah obeyed again, sat down, and smiled gently at his host.