"A good suggestion in sooth," answered the Emperor, smiling, "and yet who is there among us that has skill enough in bell-craft to do the task you propose? I am told that to cast a bell worthy of our imperial city requires the genius of a poet and the skill of an astronomer."

"True, most mighty one, and yet permit me to say that Kwan-yu, who so skilfully moulded the imperial cannon, can also cast a giant bell. He alone of all your subjects is worthy of the task, for he alone can do it justice."

Now, the official who proposed the name of Kwan-yu to the Emperor had two objects in so doing. He wished to quiet the grief of Yung-lo, who was mourning because he had nothing left to do for his people, and, at the same time, to raise Kwan-yu to high rank, for Kwan-yu's only daughter had for several years been betrothed to Ming-lin's only son, and it would be a great stroke of luck for Ming-lin if his daughter-in-law's father should come under direct favour of the Emperor.

"Depend upon it, Kwan-yu can do the work better than any other man within the length and breadth of your empire," continued Ming-lin, again bowing low three times.

"Then summon Kwan-yu at once to my presence, that I may confer with him about this important business."

In great glee Ming-lin arose and backed himself away from the golden throne, for it would have been very improper for him to turn his coat-tails on the Son of Heaven.

But it was with no little fear that Kwan-yu undertook the casting of the great bell.

"Can a carpenter make shoes?" he had protested, when Ming-lin had broken the Emperor's message to him.