13
January, 1939
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
The White Cock
I ITTLE MING CHING WAH sat eat ing a bright pomegranate. He was in his honorable grandfather’s en closed garden where a large mulberry tree spread many branches for silkworms and a lily pool floated large white blossoms and made a mirror for the proud white cock which preened his feathers there where the sun glistened upon the picture they made. Ching Wah held forth a handful of trans parent seeds and called to the white rooster, “Come get a few gems, you lovely white cock, for tomorrow my honorable father will make you give drops like these when—” "Ching Wahl” cried the stern voice of his grandfather parting the shrubs at the comer of the house as he made his way around, carrying a bamboo seat and a long pipe. “Never make light of the blood of a friendship cock!” “My honorable Grandfather, I meant no disrespect! I was thinking of what you have told shall take place tomorrow at dawn.” The old man placed his seat advantage ously for sun without glare, seated himself leisurely, drew his bright blue mandarin robe around his crossed knees, lighted his slender black pipe, puffed until he knew there was a glow, then made reply. “It is a serious matter, cutting the friendship cov enant! What your father will do tomorrow will include you, your sons, your grandsons and their sons without end!” The boy turned an empty flower jar on end and sat upon it near the old man who puffed silently, soberly, for several long sec
onds. "Tell me about it again, dear honor able one,” Ching Wah pleaded. Lovingly the old man looked down upon thé boy in his red embroidered jacket and thought within himself, "He is more trans parent and innocent than the seeds of the pomegranate which he holds forth in the sunlight. I hope the vow of the dawn will not bring him sorrow or treachery in any way. I know my son will keep his vow even to the disadvantage of his family.” Then he removed his pipe to say, “Long, long ago when China was teaching all others arts and letters, many came from all lands to see our silks, our glazed ware and our finely executed brush lettering and to trade. “Our people were more artistic than shrewd. Soon we found our fine arts being taken away from us without the equivalent being left.” The old man paused to puff on his pipe. The boy remarked, “But honorable Grandfather, I’ve heard you say that our art was highest. How could others ex change equal to it?” "True, my boy, true! But some of us could talk better than others, and thus some became the exchangers. Sometimes these were not fair.” The boy threw a seed to the white cock and interrupted, "I know of the story of money changers and how they must not see or touch any false coin while they are in training, but I want the story of the White Cock, my honorable Grand One.” “Rude boy!” cried the old man, slapping his knee, puffing angrily upon his long pipe,
then blowing out a cloud of smoke as if to cover the rude one. “To think that my grandson would interrupt as you have!” "I’m sorry!” said the boy bowing his head. The white cock flapped his wings and crowed. Any observer might have said it was because of the sudden agitation of the old man, but the crowing brought tears to the eyes of the boy. The old man uncrossed his knees suddenly, removed his pipe, and stared at the cock. It was an ill omen to the two beside the lily pool. For stretched-out moments there was silence save for the flutter of the goldfish against the lily pads. Finally the old man said, "You see, even the cock knows you have betrayed my trust in you. A nobleman cannot be rude.” The boy bowed himself at the feet of his grandfather and silently waited his verdict of punishment. The old man smoked vigorously. The boy heard his loud puff and pull upon the pipe, but he did not know that the eyes of his grandfather were filled with tears, that his throat was too tight to talk, his heart heavy with apprehension. At last his qua vering voice said, "I forgive thee, Ching Wah. Come into my lap.” Eagerly the lad responded. Cuddled there he stroked his grandfather’s soft, silk sleeve. "You are very noble—very noble indeed,” the boy said softly. The old man replied, “You are very wise for your years. Wise in not begging for the story now. I shall reward thee, Ching [Continued on page 17]
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