Hanging Waters by Keith West

THE arrival of Pai Kwat at the house of the Mings was a matter for no little ceremony; little Ming So, during school-time, had never treated his teacher with the deference which now, on all hands, that august personage found prepared against his visit. But, then, the boy was able to reflect, Chinese customs clothe the aged with a dignity which the profession of school-teacher is liable to destroy, and here Pai Kwat was no longer striving to instil into effervescent childhood the meaning of the more recondite passages of the Chinese classics. No--not at all. Pai Kwat was here as the father of Pai Mei, and in this capacity he had come to discuss with Uncle Tung Lai Luk the proposal for his daughter's future. Dignity was therefore fitting. But it was amusing to see them together--the old and the new. Pai Kwat would quote some doubtless relevant passage from a book which Tung had forgotten (or never read), and Tung would reply gravely with the wisdom of the merchant, always countering theory with practice and wisdom with money. They were talking now.

_"A wise man adapts himself to circumstances, as water fits the jar,"_ said the old man. "I have little money, and the security of my small daughter necessitates a certain amount of forethought on my part. _Diseases may be cured, but not destiny._"