"These two men," Shih-yin then pondered within his heart, "must have had
many experiences, and I ought really to have made more inquiries of
them; but at this juncture to indulge in regret is anyhow too late."

While Shih-yin gave way to these foolish reflections, he suddenly
noticed the arrival of a penniless scholar, Chia by surname, Hua by
name, Shih-fei by style and Yue-ts'un by nickname, who had taken up his
quarters in the Gourd temple next door. This Chia Yue-ts'un was
originally a denizen of Hu-Chow, and was also of literary and official
parentage, but as he was born of the youngest stock, and the possessions
of his paternal and maternal ancestors were completely exhausted, and
his parents and relatives were dead, he remained the sole and only
survivor; and, as he found his residence in his native place of no
avail, he therefore entered the capital in search of that reputation,
which would enable him to put the family estate on a proper standing. He
had arrived at this place since the year before last, and had, what is
more, lived all along in very straitened circumstances. He had made the
temple his temporary quarters, and earned a living by daily occupying
himself in composing documents and writing letters for customers. Thus
it was that Shih-yin had been in constant relations with him.

As soon as Yue-ts'un perceived Shih-yin, he lost no time in saluting him.
"My worthy Sir," he observed with a forced smile; "how is it you are
leaning against the door and looking out? Is there perchance any news
astir in the streets, or in the public places?"

"None whatever," replied Shih-yin, as he returned the smile. "Just a
while back, my young daughter was in sobs, and I coaxed her out here to
amuse her. I am just now without anything whatever to attend to, so