Herrick agreed sadly. It was another case of his own inheritance betraying him. He had fancied Nancy and Ming-te left by themselves for a space, till the gentle influence of the garden should help them realize their own community of soul. Alas, it was the fond picture of an old man. He needed only a minute's attention to his wife's protests to know that neither Nancy nor Ming-te would see the advantage of such a meeting. They would stand awkward, tongue-tied, wondering who should release them from this agony of embarrassment.
"Very well," he said, "the matter is settled. Call a fortune-teller and choose a lucky day. I am ready to make the engagement."
The t'ai-t'ai secured a lucky day close at hand. It was cheaper, after all, to buy a lucky day than to pay the hotel bills of her brother and her nephew.
Herrick, meanwhile, had not dared consult Nancy about his negotiations. The t'ai-t'ai naturally told nothing. It was in her interest to be secretive, especially about the matter of the fifteen thousand taels, which every concubine would resent as robbing her of her chance, no matter how remote, to plunder the family wealth. Yet the news of the intended engagement leaked out. Every last woman of the household knew who Nancy's husband was to be. The nurse was angry, yet afraid to make matters worse by protesting, afraid lest she be parted from her foster children and pensioned back to her southern home, a summary fate she knew the t'ai-t'ai had hinted and might have influence enough to effect by making Herrick believe he was doing a kindness to an old and loyal family servant.
Kuei-lien too was perturbed. So great was her admiration for the shrewdness of the t'ai-t'ai that she could not rest comfortably till she had uncovered all the inward reasons for this engagement. The t'ai-t'ai was not the person to give away a favorite nephew without compensation, not the one to argue her family into a profitless bargain. She suspected money behind the agreement, but could get no proof; it was certainly what she would have claimed, had she been in the t'ai-t'ai's place. Yet she, no more than the amah, could presume to act against the mistress of the household, to act openly. The t'ai-t'ai was her patron; had lifted her up, might yet cast her down.
Kuei-lien determined to provoke resistance from Nancy herself.
"Do you remember when you suggested to your father that I was an enemy?" she began, with engaging frankness. "I want to prove to you that I am no enemy, but a friend."
Nancy, who was quite unable to fathom the purpose of the concubine, chose the prudence of keeping quiet.
"I suppose you know your father is seeking but a husband for you," she continued. "He tried Mr. Nasmith; they couldn't come to terms. So now your father thinks it is cheaper to get a Chinese husband."
"Who told you all this?" Nancy asked angrily.