The Chinese Wonder Book. Norman Hinsdale Pitman

just what I am trying to tell you,” she laughed, “for there was a fairy here this afternoon sure enough, only he was dressed like a bald priest. That golden beetle is all he gave me, but with it comes a secret worth thousands of cash to us.”

      The youth fingered the trinket idly, still doubting his senses, and waiting impatiently for the secret of his delicious dinner. “But, mother, what has this brass bauble to do with the dumplings, these wonderful pork dumplings, the finest I ever ate?”

      “Baubles indeed! Brass! Fie, fie, my boy! You little know what you are saying. Only listen and you shall hear a tale that will open your eyes.”

      She then told him what had happened, and ended by setting all of the left-over dumplings upon the floor for Blackfoot and Whitehead, a thing her son had never seen her do before, for they had been miserably poor and had had to save every scrap for the next meal.

      Now began a long period of perfect happiness. Mother, son, dog and cat—all enjoyed themselves to their hearts’ content. All manner of new foods such as they had never tasted were called forth from the pot by the wonderful little beetle. Bird-nest soup, shark’s fins, and a hundred other delicacies were theirs for the asking, and soon Mingli regained all his strength, but, I fear, at the same time grew somewhat lazy, for it was no longer necessary for him to work. As for the two animals, they became fat and sleek and their hair grew long and glossy.

      But alas! according to a Chinese proverb, pride invites sorrow. The little family became so proud of their good fortune that they began to ask friends and relatives to dinner that they might show off their good meals. One day a Mr. and Mrs. Zhu came from a distant village. They were much astonished at seeing the high style in which the wangs lived. They had expected a beggar’s meal, but went away with full stomachs.

      "It’s the best stuff I ever ate,” said Mr. Zhu, as they entered their own tumbledown house. "Yes, and I know where it came from,” exclaimed his wife. “I saw Widow Wang take a little gold ornament out of the pot and hide it in a cupboard. It must be some sort of charm, for I heard her mumbling to herself about pork and dumplings just as she was stirring up the fire.”

       ”Here, son!” she cried, “look at my treasure!”

      “A charm, eh? Why is it that other people have all the luck? It looks as if we were doomed forever to be poor.”

      "Why not borrow Mrs. wang’s charm for a few days until we can pick up a little flesh to keep our bones from clattering? Turn about’s fair play. Of course, we’ll return it sooner or later.”

      “Doubtless they keep very close watch over it. When would you find them away from home, now that they don’t have to work anymore? As their house only contains one room, and that no bigger than ours, it would be difficult to borrow this golden trinket. It is harder, for more reasons than one, to steal from a beggar than from a king.”

      “Luck is surely with us,” cried Mrs. Zhu, clapping her hands. “They are going this very day to the Temple fair. I overheard Mrs. wang tell her son that he must not forget he was to take her about the middle of the afternoon. I will slip back then and borrow the little charm from the box in which she hid it.”

      “Aren’t you afraid of Blackfoot?”

      “Pooh! he’s so fat he can do nothing but roll. If the widow comes back suddenly, I’ll tell her I came to look for my big hair-pin, that I lost it while I was at dinner.”

      “All right, go ahead, only of course we must remember we’re borrowing the thing, not stealing it, for the wangs have always been good friends to us, and then, too, we have just dined with them.”

      So skilfully did this crafty woman carry out her plans that within an hour she was back in her own house, gleefully showing the priest’s charm to her husband. Not a soul had seen her enter the wang house. The dog had made no noise, and the cat had only blinked her surprise at seeing a stranger and had gone to sleep again on the floor.

      Great was the clamor and weeping when, on returning from the fair in expectation of a hot supper, the widow found her treasure missing. It was long before she could grasp the truth. She went back to the little box in the cupboard ten times before she could believe it was empty, and the room looked as if a cyclone had struck it, so long and carefully did the two unfortunates hunt for the lost beetle.

      Then came days of hunger which were all the harder to bear since the recent period of good food and plenty. Oh, if they had only not got used to such dainties! How hard it was to go back to scraps and scrapings!

      But if the widow and her son were sad over the loss of the good meals, the two pets were even more so. They were reduced to beggary and had to go forth daily upon the streets in search of stray bones and refuse that decent dogs and cats turned up their noses at.

      One day, after this period of starvation had been going on for some time, whitehead began suddenly to frisk about in great excitement.

      “Whatever is the matter with you?” growled Blackfoot. “Are you mad from hunger, or have you caught another flea?”

      “I was just thinking over our affairs, and now I know the cause of all our trouble.”

      “Do you indeed?” sneered Blackfoot.

      “Yes, I do indeed, and you’d better think twice before you mock me, for I hold your future in my paw, as you will very soon see.”

      “well, you needn’t get angry about nothing. what wonderful discovery have you made— that every rat has one tail?”

      “First of all, are you willing to help me bring good fortune back to our family?”

      “Of course I am. Don’t be silly,” barked the dog, wagging his tail joyfully at the thought of another good dinner. “Surely! surely! I will do anything you like if it will bring Dame Fortune back again.”

      “All right. Here is the plan. There has been a thief in the house who has stolen our mistress’s golden beetle. You remember all our big dinners that came from the pot? Well, every day I saw our mistress take a little golden beetle out of the black box and put it into the pot. One day she held it up before me, saying, ‘Look, puss, there is the cause of all our happiness. Don’t you wish it was yours?’ Then she laughed and put it back into the box that stays in the cupboard.”

      “Is that true?” questioned Blackfoot. “Why didn’t you say something about it before?”

      "You remember the day Mr. and Mrs. Zhu were here, and how Mrs. Zhu returned in the afternoon after master and mistress had gone to the fair? I saw her, out of the tail of my eye, go to that very black box and take out the golden beetle. I thought it curious, but never dreamed she was a thief. Alas! I was wrong! She took the beetle, and if I am not mistaken, she and her husband are now enjoying the feasts that belong to us.”

      “Let’s claw them,” growled Blackfoot, gnashing his teeth.

      “That would do no good,” counseled the other, “for they would be sure to come out best in the end. we want the beetle back—that’s the main thing. we’ll leave revenge to human beings; it is none of our business.”

      “What do you suggest?” said Blackfoot. “I am with you through thick and thin.”

      “Let’s go to the Zhu house and make off with the beetle.”

      “Alas, that I am not a cat!” moaned Blackfoot. “If we go there I couldn’t get inside, for robbers always keep their gates well locked. If I were like you I could scale the wall. It is the first time in all my life I ever envied a cat.”

      “We will go together,” continued Whitehead. “I will ride on your back when we are fording the river, and you can protect me from strange animals. when we get to the Zhu house, I will climb over the wall and manage the rest of the business myself. Only you must wait outside to help me to get home with the prize.”

      No sooner arranged than done.