Reverend Ely asked her for a piece of paper to wrap his canister of tea in. ‘Mrs Wedderburn’s frightfully fond of China tea,’ he said as he wrapped it. ‘After drinking your tea, Mr Ma, I feel sure that she will include you in her prayers to our Lord.’
As he finished wrapping, he suddenly froze, his fawny-brown eyes slowly widening. To accept the tea, he thought to himself, and not take the Mas out for a spot of sightseeing . . . Well, it didn’t seem very nice. He really ought to put on a good show in front of Mrs Wedderburn, let her see what a uniquely virtuous lot missionaries are. Nonetheless, he didn’t relish the idea of walking around town with two Chinamen.
‘Mr Ma,’ said the Reverend Ely, ‘I shall see you tomorrow. I’ll take you to have a look at London. Get up early in the morning.’
With those words, he left the room, sticking the canister inside his coat and holding it wedged under his arm. If he walked along carrying a round, wrapped object in his hand, people might suspect it to be a bottle of beer. In every aspect of his conduct, a clergyman had to live up to the Lord’s expectations.
Mr Ma wanted to see him off, but the Reverend Ely shook his head at him over Mrs Wedderburn’s shoulder.
Mrs Wedderburn saw the Reverend Ely out, and the two of them remained standing an age, talking outside the door. Now Mr Ma realised what the Reverend Ely had meant by shaking his head.
These foreign devils are subtle, and no mistake! he said to himself. You have to watch for their tricks.
‘What do you think of the two Chinamen then?’ asked the Reverend Ely at the door.
‘Quite all right, really,’ replied Mrs Wedderburn. ‘The elder one’s very presentable. And to think of it, all that tea!’
Meanwhile, indoors, Ma Wei was saying to his father, ‘Just now when the Reverend Ely was praising the rooms, why didn’t you say a thing? Haven’t you noticed that with foreigners, especially with women, you have to flatter them? If you don’t say nice things about them, they don’t take it at all well.’
‘If one knows inside one’s heart whether something is good or not, that’s quite sufficient! What’s the point of mentioning it?’ The elder Ma put Ma Wei sharply in his place, then pulled out a Szechwan-silk handkerchief, and, with the air of one dusting a mandarin’s green leather boots, gave his shoes a polish.
VI
I T WAS typical April weather: bright one moment, dull the next, then suddenly there’d be a shower of rain, and, while the raindrops were still falling, the sun would come out again. Tiny pearls of water hung in a string across the window frame of the house at Gordon Street, and as soon as the sun hit them they would slowly disappear in wisps of white vapour. Outside the house there were tall poplar trees that had just thrown forth their spring leaves. After the rain, their trunks were as moist and sleek as the legs of a freshly bathed elephant: slippery, shiny and very grey.
Although the elder Mr Ma had already had forty days’ sleep at sea, he was still extremely tired. When he lay down in his bed that first night, he could feel the bedding rise up and down, and seemed, too, to hear the shush-shushing of the sea. He woke up a good few times during the night. It was lacquer-black in the room, and in his soporific state he couldn’t remember where he was. On the ship? In Peking? Shanghai? He felt utterly lost and helpless, and when he’d properly woken up, and recalled that he was in London, he experienced quite another feeling, that of inexpressible gloom and melancholy. His friends in Peking, the meat dumplings of the Great Beauty Restaurant , the K’un-ch’ü opera of the Extending Virtue Theatre , his late wife, his elder brother . . . Shanghai . . . He recalled them all, and the next moment forgot them all again, but from the corners of his eyes two big teardrops escaped.
Parting’s sorrows and meeting’s delights. Such is life. Make the best
As he finished wrapping, he suddenly froze, his fawny-brown eyes slowly widening. To accept the tea, he thought to himself, and not take the Mas out for a spot of sightseeing . . . Well, it didn’t seem very nice. He really ought to put on a good show in front of Mrs Wedderburn, let her see what a uniquely virtuous lot missionaries are. Nonetheless, he didn’t relish the idea of walking around town with two Chinamen.
‘Mr Ma,’ said the Reverend Ely, ‘I shall see you tomorrow. I’ll take you to have a look at London. Get up early in the morning.’
With those words, he left the room, sticking the canister inside his coat and holding it wedged under his arm. If he walked along carrying a round, wrapped object in his hand, people might suspect it to be a bottle of beer. In every aspect of his conduct, a clergyman had to live up to the Lord’s expectations.
Mr Ma wanted to see him off, but the Reverend Ely shook his head at him over Mrs Wedderburn’s shoulder.
Mrs Wedderburn saw the Reverend Ely out, and the two of them remained standing an age, talking outside the door. Now Mr Ma realised what the Reverend Ely had meant by shaking his head.
These foreign devils are subtle, and no mistake! he said to himself. You have to watch for their tricks.
‘What do you think of the two Chinamen then?’ asked the Reverend Ely at the door.
‘Quite all right, really,’ replied Mrs Wedderburn. ‘The elder one’s very presentable. And to think of it, all that tea!’
Meanwhile, indoors, Ma Wei was saying to his father, ‘Just now when the Reverend Ely was praising the rooms, why didn’t you say a thing? Haven’t you noticed that with foreigners, especially with women, you have to flatter them? If you don’t say nice things about them, they don’t take it at all well.’
‘If one knows inside one’s heart whether something is good or not, that’s quite sufficient! What’s the point of mentioning it?’ The elder Ma put Ma Wei sharply in his place, then pulled out a Szechwan-silk handkerchief, and, with the air of one dusting a mandarin’s green leather boots, gave his shoes a polish.
VI
I T WAS typical April weather: bright one moment, dull the next, then suddenly there’d be a shower of rain, and, while the raindrops were still falling, the sun would come out again. Tiny pearls of water hung in a string across the window frame of the house at Gordon Street, and as soon as the sun hit them they would slowly disappear in wisps of white vapour. Outside the house there were tall poplar trees that had just thrown forth their spring leaves. After the rain, their trunks were as moist and sleek as the legs of a freshly bathed elephant: slippery, shiny and very grey.
Although the elder Mr Ma had already had forty days’ sleep at sea, he was still extremely tired. When he lay down in his bed that first night, he could feel the bedding rise up and down, and seemed, too, to hear the shush-shushing of the sea. He woke up a good few times during the night. It was lacquer-black in the room, and in his soporific state he couldn’t remember where he was. On the ship? In Peking? Shanghai? He felt utterly lost and helpless, and when he’d properly woken up, and recalled that he was in London, he experienced quite another feeling, that of inexpressible gloom and melancholy. His friends in Peking, the meat dumplings of the Great Beauty Restaurant , the K’un-ch’ü opera of the Extending Virtue Theatre , his late wife, his elder brother . . . Shanghai . . . He recalled them all, and the next moment forgot them all again, but from the corners of his eyes two big teardrops escaped.
Parting’s sorrows and meeting’s delights. Such is life. Make the best
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