Pao-ch'ai felt a wish to catch them for mere fun's sake, so producing a
fan from inside her sleeve, she descended on to the turfed ground to
flap them with it. The two butterflies suddenly were seen to rise;
suddenly to drop: sometimes to come; at others to go. Just as they were
on the point of flying across the stream to the other side, the
enticement proved too much for Pao-ch'ai, and she pursued them on tiptoe
straight up to the Ti Ts'ui pavilion, nestling on the bank of the pond;
while fragrant perspiration dripped drop by drop, and her sweet breath
panted gently. But Pao-ch'ai abandoned the idea of catching them, and
was about to beat a retreat, when all at once she overheard, in the
pavilion, the chatter of people engaged in conversation.

This pavilion had, it must be added, a verandah and zig-zag balustrades
running all round. It was erected over the water, in the centre of a
pond, and had on the four sides window-frames of carved wood work, stuck
with paper. So when Pao-ch'ai caught, from without the pavilion, the
sound of voices, she at once stood still and lent an attentive ear to
what was being said.

"Look at this handkerchief," she overheard. "If it's really the one
you've lost, well then keep it; but if it isn't you must return it to
Mr. Yuen."

"To be sure it is my own," another party observed, "bring it along and
give it to me."

"What reward will you give me?" she further heard. "Is it likely that
I've searched all for nothing!"

"I've long ago promised to recompense you, and of course I won't play