exclaimed ‘Splendid!’All the elder Mr Ma wanted to do was lie down and have a rest. He nodded at the landlady every time the Reverend Ely said ‘Splendid!’, but in actual fact took in not a word of what she said. Nor did he spare a glance for any of the rooms, just telling himself, Anyway, all that matter’s is there’s somewhere for us to sleep. Why bother about anything else?
One thing rather disturbed him: there seemed to be too few blankets on the beds. He went over and felt them. There were only two. Surely that’ll be too cold! he said to himself. When in Peking he always had two thick quilts, and wore a fur jacket and cotton-wadded trousers on top of that.
After they’d looked at all the rooms, the Reverend Ely, realising that Mr Ma hadn’t said a thing, hurriedly told Mrs Wedderburn, ‘Splendid! I was telling them on the way here, “You’ll see that you couldn’t have found rooms to match Mrs Wedderburn’s in the whole of London, take my word!” Eh, Mr Ma?’ His fawny-brown eyes riveted themselves on Mr Ma. ‘Now d’you believe me?’
Mr Ma gave a smile and said nothing. Ma Wei got the Reverend Ely’s message, and hastily assured Mrs Wedderburn, ‘The rooms are excellent. Thank you.’
They all went downstairs, and seated themselves in the drawing room once more. While she still had the Reverend Ely present, Mrs Wedderburn clarified all matters concerning rent, mealtimes, when the door was locked in the evening and all the other rules, stipulating everything very precisely. Whenever she paused or took a breath, and whether he’d heard what she’d been saying or not, the Reverend Ely would chime in with a ‘Splendid!’, like the drummer in a band coming in with a roll on his snare when the trumpets pause. The elder Mr Ma uttered not a peep, and was saying to himself, What a mass of rules! Marry a foreign woman and I bet she’d be on your tail all the time, like a cat after a mouse.
When Mrs Wedderburn had finished, the Reverend Ely stood up. ‘Mrs Wedderburn,’ he said, ‘we can’t thank you enough. You must come round to my house some day for tea, and have a good long chat with Mrs Ely. Can you manage it?’
Something clicked in Mr Ma’s mind as he heard the clergyman mention tea. ‘What about our tea?’ he asked Ma Wei in an undertone. Ma Wei replied that there were only two canisters in the valise, and that the rest were all in the big trunks.
‘Well, you’ve got the valise with you, haven’t you?’ asked Mr Ma.
Ma Wei assured him it was in the hallway.
‘Go and fetch it!’ said Mr Ma softly. Excusing himself, Ma Wei stepped into the hall, returning quickly with the valise. He opened it and handed the two canisters of tea to his father. Mr Ma, a canister in each hand, addressed the rest of the company. ‘Some tea we’ve brought with us from Peking. One canister for the Reverend Ely, and one for Mrs Wedderburn, as small tokens of our respect.’
He handed one canister to the Reverend Ely, and placed the other on the piano. The Confucian philosopher Mencius says that ‘Men and women should not touch when giving or receiving’, so there was no question of his personally placing it in Mrs Wedderburn’s hands.
The Reverend Ely, having been in China for many years, knew the ways of the Chinese, so as he took the canister he said to Mrs Wedderburn, ‘Here’s some good tea, I’ll be bound!’
Mrs Wedderburn hurriedly deposited Napoleon on the stool, and picked up her own canister. Her dainty mouth opening slightly, she peered closely at the tiny Chinese letters on the canister, with its trademark phrase, ‘The Moon Fairy Flees to the Moon’ .
‘How quaint! How quaint!’ she said, for the first time looking directly at Mr Ma and not from the corners of her eyes. ‘Can I take something so nice without paying you anything for it? Is it really for me, Mr Ma?’
‘Of course it is!’ said Mr Ma, twitching his scrap of moustache.
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Ma!’
The
One thing rather disturbed him: there seemed to be too few blankets on the beds. He went over and felt them. There were only two. Surely that’ll be too cold! he said to himself. When in Peking he always had two thick quilts, and wore a fur jacket and cotton-wadded trousers on top of that.
After they’d looked at all the rooms, the Reverend Ely, realising that Mr Ma hadn’t said a thing, hurriedly told Mrs Wedderburn, ‘Splendid! I was telling them on the way here, “You’ll see that you couldn’t have found rooms to match Mrs Wedderburn’s in the whole of London, take my word!” Eh, Mr Ma?’ His fawny-brown eyes riveted themselves on Mr Ma. ‘Now d’you believe me?’
Mr Ma gave a smile and said nothing. Ma Wei got the Reverend Ely’s message, and hastily assured Mrs Wedderburn, ‘The rooms are excellent. Thank you.’
They all went downstairs, and seated themselves in the drawing room once more. While she still had the Reverend Ely present, Mrs Wedderburn clarified all matters concerning rent, mealtimes, when the door was locked in the evening and all the other rules, stipulating everything very precisely. Whenever she paused or took a breath, and whether he’d heard what she’d been saying or not, the Reverend Ely would chime in with a ‘Splendid!’, like the drummer in a band coming in with a roll on his snare when the trumpets pause. The elder Mr Ma uttered not a peep, and was saying to himself, What a mass of rules! Marry a foreign woman and I bet she’d be on your tail all the time, like a cat after a mouse.
When Mrs Wedderburn had finished, the Reverend Ely stood up. ‘Mrs Wedderburn,’ he said, ‘we can’t thank you enough. You must come round to my house some day for tea, and have a good long chat with Mrs Ely. Can you manage it?’
Something clicked in Mr Ma’s mind as he heard the clergyman mention tea. ‘What about our tea?’ he asked Ma Wei in an undertone. Ma Wei replied that there were only two canisters in the valise, and that the rest were all in the big trunks.
‘Well, you’ve got the valise with you, haven’t you?’ asked Mr Ma.
Ma Wei assured him it was in the hallway.
‘Go and fetch it!’ said Mr Ma softly. Excusing himself, Ma Wei stepped into the hall, returning quickly with the valise. He opened it and handed the two canisters of tea to his father. Mr Ma, a canister in each hand, addressed the rest of the company. ‘Some tea we’ve brought with us from Peking. One canister for the Reverend Ely, and one for Mrs Wedderburn, as small tokens of our respect.’
He handed one canister to the Reverend Ely, and placed the other on the piano. The Confucian philosopher Mencius says that ‘Men and women should not touch when giving or receiving’, so there was no question of his personally placing it in Mrs Wedderburn’s hands.
The Reverend Ely, having been in China for many years, knew the ways of the Chinese, so as he took the canister he said to Mrs Wedderburn, ‘Here’s some good tea, I’ll be bound!’
Mrs Wedderburn hurriedly deposited Napoleon on the stool, and picked up her own canister. Her dainty mouth opening slightly, she peered closely at the tiny Chinese letters on the canister, with its trademark phrase, ‘The Moon Fairy Flees to the Moon’ .
‘How quaint! How quaint!’ she said, for the first time looking directly at Mr Ma and not from the corners of her eyes. ‘Can I take something so nice without paying you anything for it? Is it really for me, Mr Ma?’
‘Of course it is!’ said Mr Ma, twitching his scrap of moustache.
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Ma!’
The
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