in the jars of jam." How in the world could he get in the little jars? It was silly. He was much larger than any one of the jars. But perhaps Tieh tieh meant not put a hand in the jars. That must be it. Ah Mee made a stern resolve to keep his hands out. Not so much as a finger should go in those jars. . . .
Obedient Ah Mee arranged several of his father's carven plaques on the floor, and tilted a jar. The plaques were beautifully decorated flat pieces of wood, somewhat larger than dinner plates. They made reasonably good dishes for the stiff jam. Surrounded by little mountains of jam, Ah Mee sat on the floor and . . . how the mountains disappeared. Really, it was fairish tasting jam.
When Ching Chi came home and discovered his carvings smeared with black and sticky jam, that good soul fell into a passion. First he screamed. Next he howled. Then he seized the plaques and flung them from him, flung them with all his strength. Flinging seems to have been a family failing.
Ching Chi was weeping for sorrow, and
