that whenever Pao-yue went out of doors in the future, they should give
several strings of cash to the pages to bestow on charity among the
bonzes and Taoist priests, and the poor and needy they might meet on the
way.

These directions concluded, the Taoist matron trudged into the various
quarters, and paid her respects, and then strolled leisurely about.
Presently, she entered Mrs. Chao's apartments. After the two ladies had
exchanged salutations, Mrs. Chao bade a young servant-girl hand her
guest a cup of tea. While Mrs. Chao busied herself pasting shoes, Ma,
the Taoist matron, espied, piled up in a heap on the stove-couch, sundry
pieces of silks and satins. "It just happens," she consequently
remarked, "that I have no facings for shoes, so my lady do give me a few
odd cuttings of silk and satin, of no matter what colour, to make myself
a pair of shoes with."

Mrs. Chao heaved a sigh. "Look," she said, "whether there be still among
them any pieces good for anything. But anything that's worth anything
doesn't find its way in here. If you don't despise what's worthless,
you're at liberty to select any two pieces and to take them away, and
have done."

The Taoist matron, Ma, chose with alacrity several pieces and shoved
them in her breast.

"The other day," Mrs. Chao went on to inquire, "I sent a servant over
with five hundred cash; have you presented any offerings before the god
of medicine or not?"

"I've offered them long ago for you," the Taoist matron Ma rejoined.