Short Stories
you will find it in all the geography books. The world is
round. Ever it turns over on itself, over and over and around
and around. And the times and seasons of weather and life
turn with it. What is, has been before. What has been, will be
again. The time of the breadfruit and the mango ever recurs,
and man and woman repeat themselves. The robins nest, and
in the springtime the plovers come from the north. Every
spring is followed by another spring. The coconut palm rises
into the air, ripens its fruit, and departs. But always are there
more coconut palms. This is not all my own smart talk. Much
of it my father told me. Proceed, honourable Mrs. Tai Fu, and
beat your son who is my Third Husband To Be. But I shall
laugh. I warn you I shall laugh."
Ah Kim dropped down on his knees so as to give his
mother every advantage. And while she rained blows upon
him with the bamboo stick, Li Faa smiled and giggled, and fi-
nally burst into laughter.
"Harder, O honourable Mrs. Tai Fu!" Li Faa urged between
paroxysms of mirth.
Mrs. Tai Fu did her best, which was notably weak, until
she observed what made her drop the stick by her side in
amazement. Ah Kim was crying. Down both cheeks great
round tears were coursing. Li Faa was amazed. So were the
gaping clerks. Most amazed of all was Ah Kim, yet he could
not help himself; and, although no further blows fell, he cried
steadily on.
"But why did you cry?" Li Faa demanded often of Ah Kim. "It
was so perfectly foolish a thing to do. She was not even hurting
you."
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