Upon a certain evening in the month when the grass-blades are transformed into silk-worms Yan was alone in the shop, improving the edge and reflecting brilliance of some of his implements, when he heard the woman exclaim from the inner room:  “Truly the air from the desert is as hot and devoid of relief as the breath of the Great Dragon.  Let us repose for the time in the outer chamber.”  Whereupon they entered the shop and seating themselves upon a couch resumed their occupations, the barber fanning himself while he smoked, his wife gumming her hair and coiling it into the semblance of a bird with outstretched wings.

“The necessity for the elaborate caution of the past no longer exists,” remarked Chou-hu presently.  “The baker Heng-cho is desirous of becoming one of those who select the paving-stones and regulate the number of hanging lanterns for the district lying around the Three-tiered Pagoda.  In this ambition he is opposed by Kong, the distilled-spirit vendor, who claims to be a more competent judge of paving-stones and hanging lanterns and one who will exercise a lynx-eyed vigilance upon the public outlay and especially devote himself to curbing the avarice of those bread-makers who habitually mix powdered white earth with their flour.  Heng-cho is therefore very concerned that many should bear honourable testimony of his engaging qualities when the day of trial arrives, and thus positioned he has inscribed and sent to this person a written message offering a dignified reconciliation and adding that he is convinced of the necessity of an enactment compelling all persons to wear a smooth face and a neatly braided pig-tail.”

“It is a creditable solution of the matter,” said Tsae-che, speaking between the ivory pins which she held in her mouth.  “Henceforth, then, you will take up your accustomed stand as in the past?”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Chou-hu.  “Yuen Yan is painstaking, and has perhaps done as well as could be expected of one of his shallow intellect, but the absence of suave and high-minded conversation cannot fail to be alienating the custom of the more polished.  Plainly it is a short-sighted policy for a person to try and evade his destiny.  Yan seems to have been born for the express purpose of leading blind beggars about the streets of the city and to that profession he must return.”

“O distressingly superficial Chou-hu!” exclaimed his wife, “do men turn willingly from wine to partake of vinegar, or having been clothed in silk do they accept sackcloth without a struggle?  Indeed, your eyes, which are large to regard your own deeds and comforts, grow small when they are turned towards the attainments of another.  In no case will Yan return to his mendicants, for his band is by this time scattered and dispersed.  His sleeve being now well lined and his hand proficient in every detail of his craft, he will erect a stall, perchance even directly opposite or next to ourselves, and by subtlety, low charges and diligence he will draw away the greater part of your custom.”