Mrs. Pollifax on the China Station

denim shirt.”
    ”Wear them,” Mrs. Pollifax told her firmly.
    Iris looked startled. ”But Jenny’s in that pretty little skirt and
blouse, and look at you in—”
    Mrs. Pollifax shook her head. ”Wear them.”
    Iris sighed. ”Gosh, the money I spent on all this stuff, enough to keep
Vogue Boutique in business a whole year, I swear.”
    ”You’ll look splendid in jeans,” said Mrs. Pollifax, paying this no
attention. ”Be yourself.”
    Iris considered this and sighed again. ”There it is again, the hardest
thing of all, don’t you think? Being yourself? But if I should blossom out in
my jeans tomorrow would you stick near me?”
    ”For the initial impact, yes, but after that you’re on your own.”
    Iris grinned. ”You’re really nice. I thought when I first saw you, oh
boy she’ll be the one to
cold-shoulder me—I mean, when I first saw you, before I spoke to you. And here
I end up telling you the story of my life.”
    ” Stanley ,”
said Mrs. Pollifax, ”would have told you to ‘button up’?”
    Iris laughed her joyous laugh. ”You sure listened if you remember that. Oh-oh, here comes Mr. Forbes
again. He’s certainly no talker, he just keeps studying that Chinese dictionary
of his.”
    ”Yes, but I took his seat and I’ll let him have it back now,” Mrs.
Pollifax told her. ”I’ll see you later, Iris.”
    As the others streamed back into the car the train lurched and then
began to move, and Mr. Li appeared carrying a carton of box lunches for them. A
moment later the railway station and the border were behind them, and Mrs.
Pollifax thought, We’re now in
Mainland China .
It begins at last.

Chapter Three
     
    T hey dined late that afternoon in the Guangzhou
Restaurant, just off the train and in another world. Their number had been
increased by one, the local Guangzhou , or Canton guide who
explained that the hotel was so far out of town that they must have their
Chinese banquet now. The man’s name was Tung, and Mrs. Pollifax began to
understand now that only Mr. Li was to be permanent and theirs; the others would come and
go, with names like Chu and Tung, leaving only
vague impressions behind.
    In any case, Mrs. Pollifax felt that her sense of inner time was still
so confused that a banquet in late afternoon could scarcely be more difficult
than breakfast at night over the Pacific. They were here, very definitely in China , on the
second floor of a huge old wooden building in a room filled with large round
tables, only one of which was occupied by a family of Chinese who ate and
talked with enthusiasm in a far corner: a wedding party, explained Mr. Li.
    With her chopsticks Mrs. Pollifax lifted a slice of sugared tomato
toward her mouth and experienced triumph at its arrival. From where she sat she
could look out across the restaurant’s courtyard and see a line of clothes hung
on a rope stretched from eave to eave: an assortment of grays, dull blues, and
greens. She decided that it was probably not someone’s laundry because the wide
street outside had been lined with just such clothing too, hung like banners
from every apartment above the street floor. Presumably it was an efficient
solution to a lack of closet space, and remembering her own crowded closets at home she pondered the effect on her
neighbors if she did this at the Hemlock Arms.
    Mr. Li, seated beside her, chose this moment to announce, ”It is
important there be a leader to this group. You are oldest, Mrs. Pollifax, you
will please be leader?”
    Mrs. Pollifax, glancing around, said doubtfully, ”I’m the oldest, yes,
but I wonder if perhaps—” She stopped, aware that Iris’ eyes were growing huge
with alarm at the thought of her deferring to a man and betraying The Cause.
She wondered if later it would prove convenient or inconvenient to be a leader,
and Carstairs’ words drifted back to her: if anything unusual happens—if anything goes wrong—get that group the
hell out of China . Possibly, she decided, it might prove convenient. ”Yes of course,” she said,
and smiled demurely at Iris across the table.
    Mr. Li laughed merrily. ”Good—okay! You can find for me out of each
person what they most want to see. For the arrangements. We cannot promise
them, it is the local guides who decide, but I struggle for you.”
    ”Yes,” said Mrs. Pollifax, and decided not to mention the Drum Tower in Xian just yet.
    ”For tomorrow,” said Mr. Li, ”Mr. Tung has arranged—” He bent his ear to
Mr. Tung