Mr Ma and Son by Lao She

Author:Lao She
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-08-05T16:00:00+00:00

XII

SINCE HE’D recovered from his illness, Mr Ma had been very keen to please others. Breakfast over, he’d go into the backyard and water the flowers, remove caterpillars and cut the lawn, humming wordless hymns, with the air of some Taoist gentleman of Chinese antiquity rejoicing in thoughts of paradise and immortality. He felt so carefree and cheerful that if a bee landed on his forehead, he made not the slightest move to shoo it away. As long as you don’t sting me, I’ll do you no harm. There now, see how placid and relaxed I am!

He’d given Mary no less than two pounds to buy a hat. Fine, one vow fulfilled. Now should he buy one for her mother or not? We made a loss of fifteen pounds last month, and that’s no joke. Better be more thrifty, hadn’t we? But you can’t dismiss human obligations I was unwell, and I ought to buy her something to express my thanks. We’ll see next month. Yes, next month. Hardly likely to make a loss of fifteen pounds again next month.

Ma Wei’s been getting thinner lately. Wonder what’s the matter with him? Still a young lad, but he ought to eat a bit more. Plenty to eat and a lot of sound sleep, that’d fill him out. Yes, he’ll have to eat more.

Ah, I ought to pop in at the shop. All that fellow Li Tzu-jung can do is grumble. A load of rubbish – grumbling morning till night. I’ll go in early this morning, and give him no chance to grumble. Hey, it’s ten o’clock already. I’ll have to be off there in a hurry. Wait a moment, I’ll take two pots of flowers to the shop. Splendid idea! If he says I’m late, I’ll have a ready excuse: I’ve been transplanting the flowers. Those hopeless-looking chrysanthemums have grown after all. Look quite nice now, too. That’s it. I’ll take a couple of pots of chrysanthemums. A few pots of chrysanthemums in the shop’ll look very elegant. And perhaps they’ll show up Li Tzu-jung’s tasteless display all the more vividly!

If he had a long way to go, Mr Ma would always take a taxi. If his destination was nearby, he’d walk at a leisurely pace. Under no circumstances would he take a bus or tram. It’d be no laughing matter if he had an accident and died in London. Of late he’d even taken to travelling less by taxi, since the traffic was so chaotic and you could never be sure, even with a taxi. When he used to catch cabs in Peking, the police would halt the pedestrians and horses to speed the taxi on its way. So exalted, so grandly mandarin-like! But here in London, a big policeman had only to stick out a hand and all the traffic, even the prime minister’s car, had to come to a stop. These foreign devils! No sense of the proper social distinctions! No notion of rank!

Hugging his two pots of

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