“There is no prospect that isn’t graceful and picturesque,” thought Mary watching an old fruit and vegetable man in front of them.  He wore a dull blue cotton tunic much faded but still a heavenly color, and on either end of a pole resting on his shoulders was a flat brown basket filled with small oranges and vegetables of an unknown variety.  Behind him walked an old woman in a dull brown and purple dress with an orange sash around her waist.  Her back was burdened with a great bundle of bark.  The sun was hot and many of the wayfarers carried paper umbrellas.  Most of the women had babies swung on their backs and sometimes shiny little black eyes peeped out from the front of a kimono, the mother’s arms being engaged in supporting another burden on her back.

“It seems to me the women work very hard in this country,” remarked Elinor severely, pointing to a cart filled with charcoal propelled by two women and a man.  One of the women had a baby on her back and another child holding to her skirts.

“They do,” said Mary.  “Even the women in the upper classes have to work hard.  Don’t you remember what the missionary on the steamer told us?  The wife is always the first one up in the household no matter how many servants she has.  She has to bring her mean old mother-in-law a cup of tea and get out her husband’s clothes.  The mother-in-law has had to work so hard when she was a daughter-in-law that she takes it out on her son’s wife later.”

“I’d like to see an American wife ridden by her mother-in-law that way,” broke in Elinor indignantly.

“But then the Japanese daughter-in-law’s turn comes later,” said Mary laughing, “when she gets to be a mother-in-law.  So it’s all nicely balanced.”

But the streets were too interesting to pursue the subject of mother-in-law any further.  They were passing a row of open-fronted shops on the edges of which customers were squatted looking at materials while the proprietor bobbed and smiled and dickered over his bargains.  Red and yellow banners hung in a row from the roof of the shop, the gay colored hieroglyphics on them indicating what manner of goods were displayed within.

“Here’s a nice little silk shop, Komatsu.  Let us stop here,” called Miss Campbell.

But Komatsu only grinned over his shoulder and called: 

“Too littleness for gracious big lady.”

“But I like the looks of this place, Komatsu,” said the gracious big lady helplessly.

However Komatsu had his own ideas of obedience and he trotted on, never pausing until he reached a large silk store thronged with clerks and customers.

Here all the ’rikshas drew up and the girls alighted with Miss Campbell, who was a little red in the face but determined to overlook the annoyance of orders disregarded.