your devotion has been rewarded." So saying, she dropped the golden
beetle into the boiling water and stirred up the fire.

Thinking his mother had gone stark mad for want of food, Ming-li stared
solemnly at her. Anything was preferable to this misery. Should he sell
his last outer garment for a few pennies and buy millet for her?
Blackfoot licked his hand comfortingly, as if to say, "Cheer up, master,
fortune has turned in our favour." Whitehead leaped upon a bench,
purring like a sawmill.

Ming-li did not have long to wait. Almost in the twinkling of an eye he
heard his mother crying out,

"Sit down at the table, son, and eat these dumplings while they are
smoking hot."

Could he have heard correctly? Did his ears deceive him? No, there on
the table was a huge platter full of the delicious pork dumplings he
liked better than anything else in all the world, except, of course, his
mother.

"Eat and ask no questions," counselled the Widow Wang. "When you are
satisfied I will tell you everything."

Wise advice! Very soon the young man's chopsticks were twinkling like
a little star in the verses. He ate long and happily, while his good
mother watched him, her heart overflowing with joy at seeing him at last
able to satisfy his hunger. But still the old woman could hardly wait
for him to finish, she was so anxious to tell him her wonderful secret.