"If it isn't he," Hu Po proceeded still laughing, "it's she." Turning again her finger towards Tai-yü.
Hsiang-yün expressed not a word by way of rejoinder.
"That's still less likely," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "for my cousin is like her own sister; and she's far fonder of her than of me. How could she therefore take offence? Do you credit that nonsensical trash uttered by Yün-erh! Why what good ever comes out of that mouth of hers?"
Pao-yü was ever well aware that Tai-yü was gifted with a somewhat mean disposition. He had not however as yet come to learn anything of what had recently transpired between Tai-yü and Pao-ch'ai. He was therefore just giving way to fears lest his grandmother's fondness for Pao-ch'in should be the cause of her feeling dejected. But when he now heard the remarks passed by Hsiang-yün, and the rejoinders made, on the other hand, by Pao-ch'ai, and, when he noticed how different Tai-yü's voice and manner were from former occasions, and how they actually bore out Pao-ch'ai's insinuation, he was at a great loss how to solve the mystery. "These two," he consequently pondered, "were never like this before! From all I can now see, they're, really, a hundred times far more friendly than any others are!" But presently he also observed Lin Tai-yü rush after Pao-ch'in, and call out 'Sister,' and, without even making any allusion to her name or any mention to her surname, treat her in every respect, just as if she were her own sister.
This Pao-ch'in was young and warm-hearted. She was naturally besides of an intelligent disposition. She had, from her very youth up, learnt how to read and how to write. After a stay, on the present occasion, of a couple of days in the Chia mansion, she became acquainted with nearly every inmate. And as she saw that the whole bevy of young ladies were not of a haughty nature, and that they kept on friendly terms with her own cousin, she did not feel disposed to treat them with any discourtesy. But she had likewise found out for herself that Lin Tai-yü was the best among the whole lot, so she started with Tai-yü, more than with any one else, a friendship of unusual fervour. This did not escape Pao-yü's notice; but all he could do was to secretly give way to amazement.
Shortly, however, Pao-ch'ai and her cousin repaired to Mrs. Hsüeh's quarters. Hsiang-yün then betook herself to dowager lady Chia's apartments, while Lin Tai-yü returned to her room and lay down to rest.
Pao-yü thereupon came to look up Tai-yü.
"Albeit I've read the 'Record of the Western Side-room,'" he smiled, "and understood a few passages of it, yet when I quoted some in order to make you laugh, you flew into a huff! But I now remember that there is, indeed, a passage, which is not intelligible to me; so let me quote it for you to explain it for me!"
Hearing this, Tai-yü immediately concluded that his words harboured some secret meaning, so putting on a smile, "Recite it and let me hear it," she said.
"In the 'Confusion' chapter," Pao-yü laughingly began, "there's a line couched in most beautiful language. It's this: 'What time did Meng Kuang receive Liang Hung's candlestick?' (When did you and Pao-ch'ai get to be such friends?) These five characters simply bear on a stock story; but to the credit of the writer be it, the question contained in the three empty words representing, 'What time' is set so charmingly! When did she receive it? Do tell me!"