Dr. Ti Kung lit a cigarette. "This morning in passing by the
waterfront," he began pleasantly, "I came upon you in the midst of a
group of friends—sitting and talking, you know. I recognized you at
once, waited until you were not engaged. We had a short ride in my
’rickshaw up to the street of the Everlasting Spring. Here you became
restless; you were not feeling yourself. We stopped at a barber-shop,
but you were impatient to be off. In fact, you insisted upon leaving
before the—"
Romney smiled painfully, passing his hand again over his half-shaven
face. However, a certain appreciation formed in his mind for the man
who described his condition so delicately.
"And after that?"
Dr. Ti Kung hesitated.... Here the door swung back on silent hinges and
the old man whom the American had called to through the chink, scuffed
in with glasses and a bottle. He made a curious little bobbing bow to
Dr. Ti Kung, and scuffed out.
Romney added, when the door had closed: "I mean the lock-up, this
calaboose, what am I in for?"
"This is not a jail. You’re merely in one of our examination cells."
The other turned white and arose.
"What am I enlisting for? Some conscript mess I got into with your
countrymen?"
"Not at all," laughed Dr. Ti Kung. "This is an educational institution;
this chamber is connected with one of our colleges. We put aspiring
young men in these chambers together with a set of questions and a large
quantity of white paper, leaving them in quiet contemplation until the
questions are answered. Here, exchange of thoughts with any other
student is impossible and one is able to put his best concentration upon
the task."
"I see," said the American, looking about at the thickness of the stone
walls.
"Our young literati," continued Dr. Ti Kung, "are rigorously brought
up." He eyed Romney with narrowed lids through the smoke. "It so
happened that this place was at hand when you required rest, so we
carried you in. By the way, you are very light for your length."
Romney did not appear to hear the observations, but leaned toward the
other, saying apologetically, "You’ll have to excuse me, but I give it
up. My head is bad. Where did I meet you before?"
Dr. Ti Kung almost smiled. "The first time, I believe, was at a certain
field-meet in the Santa Clara valley."
"Lord, that’s more than seven years. I have you. I was fit that day—"
"You were fit this morning," beamed Dr. Ti Kung.
Another drink came. Romney was more cheerful.
"Say, what’s this _pai ning_ stuff in use here? I know the expression,
but didn’t get the connection."
"_Pal ning?_" repeated Ti Kung.
"You’ve got it. That’s the way he said it."
"Why, that means literally, ’f-i-n-ee-s-h-e-d?’ It had to do with the
examination papers. The hall-boy came at your call. His duty was to
inquire if your work was done before turning the key."
"It wasn’t," said Romney thoughtfully.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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