Nancy was too proud to be outdone by a younger brother. She redoubled her efforts, hot and weary though she was, and felt rewarded when they reached the remains of an imperial hunting forest, a grove of stout pines shimmering with silver bark, which thrilled the girl by their stateliness.
"There is a temple," she said. "Let's rest a few minutes. Perhaps they will bring us tea."
"It's late," said Edward anxiously. The ridge was still a mile or two distant. "We have to go back, you know. We can't waste time."
But Nancy suddenly felt overcome by a thirstiness which would yield to nothing but many cups of boiling tea. She hurried toward the red-washed walls of the monastery, while Edward, whose conscience could not quell his own thirst, followed only half unwillingly.
The temple was neither large nor beautiful, but it was cool. They passed the four monstrous figures of the Heavenly Kings and threw barely a look at the fat little Maitreya with distended belly, who sat in a glass case, cheerfully oblivious of the scowling guardians of the portal. Beyond the first court with its iron incense-burner a monk greeted them, uttering the mystical name, to which they replied in his own words, "O-mi-t'o-fu." He led them to a table by the door and left them surveying the gilded company of the gods while he brought hot water to make an infusion of tea in the cracked cups.
"Oughtn't we to give him money?" suggested Edward. "I didn't bring any."
"We'll bring it next time," said Nancy, determined that nothing should stand between her and the tea she craved.
Edward, however, was too honest not to tell the monk and was easier in mind when the latter deprecated all talk of payment. Another monk, fingering his beads, came and sat down beside the children. Nancy did not like him so well; he showed brown discolored teeth when he laughed and his eyes protruded like the eyes in the fierce images behind him.
"You are foreigners?" he asked.
"No," said Edward, scornfully, "we are Chinese."