aid,
and produced from his pocket a handful of pieces of coloured paper.

'It doesn't look very satisfying food,' Charlie remarked, 'but I dare
say that it is good enough for ghosts.'

'This is not food,' Ping Wang replied--and, as he spoke, he took from
the heap several round pieces of paper--'it is money. Our ghosts,
according to the belief of our wise men, lead a life, in some invisible
world, which is very much like what they lived here; but, as they don't
appear to have a mint, we offer them money--this money. To-night we
shall have the pleasure of burning those pieces of round paper, which my
countrymen believe pass in the form of money into the ghosts' possession
as they disappear from our sight. We will not, however, confine our
gifts to money. Here are houses, carts, wheelbarrows, horses, and suits
of clothes, all made of paper, to be burnt. The ghosts, my countrymen
think, will find them very useful.'

Ping Wang was now in the humour for talking, and held his friends
interested nearly the whole of the afternoon. Just before darkness came
on they had some tea, and then paid the landlord and departed.

The people by now were flocking, or had already gone, to that part of
the town where the feast was to be given, and consequently the Pages and
Ping Wang found the track round the ten-foot wall of Chin Choo's house
almost deserted. For this they were very thankful indeed, as it gave
them a better opportunity for examining the wall.

'This will be the place,' Ping Wang said when they had gone about
half-way round the wall. He pointed to several holes in it just large
enough to insert the toes or fingers.

After taking note of the surroundings so that they would be able to find
the spot again, they continued their journey until they reached the
place from which they had started.

'Now for the feast,' Ping Wang said, quietly, and they started off in
the direction of the ghosts' feast. It was a merry, jovial crowd they
joined. Most of the people were carrying provisions as well as offerings
for the ghosts, and Ping Wang, not wishing that he and his friends
should be conspicuous, purchased three legs of pork. Then they walked on
again, but, before long, came to a large and excited crowd gathered
round a poster on the outside wall of a joss-house or temple. Ping Wang,
leaving the Pages in a dark corner, hurried forward to read the placard,
and, to his horror, found that his fears were realised. It was an
anti-for