KAI LUNG'S GOLDEN HOURS
on the head with the image of a sonorous wooden duck," reported the slave submissively.
Meanwhile the voice with its accompaniment continued to chant of the deeds of bygone heroes.
"In that case," said Wong Pao coldly, "entice him into this inadequate chamber by words suggestive of liberal entertainment."
This device was successful, for very soon the slave returned with the stranger. He was a youth of studious appearance and an engaging openness of manner. Hung about his neck by means of a cord were a variety of poems suitable to most of the contingencies of an ordinary person's existence. The name he bore was Sun and he was of the house of Kiau.
"Honourable greeting, minstrel," said Wong Pao, with dignified condescension. "Why do you persist in exercising your illustrious talent outside this person's insignificant abode?"
"Because," replied Sun modestly, "the benevolent mandarin who has just spoken had not then invited me inside. Now, however, he will be able to hear to greater advantage the very doubtful qualities of my entertainment."
With these words Kiau Sun struck the duck so proficiently that it emitted a life-like call, and prepared to raise his voice in a chant.
"Restrain your undoubted capacity," exclaimed Wong Pao hastily. "The inquiry presented itself to you at an inaccurate angle. Why, to restate it, did you continue before this uninviting hovel when, under the external forms of true politeness, my slave endeavoured to remove you hence?"
"In the circumstances this person may have over-
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