Miss Campbell pointed outside to the rain and made expressive signs indicative of haste.  It was really like being in a deaf and dumb asylum.  Then the little lady smiled again and bowed again, and the others bowed.

“Good heavens, Billie, what am I to do?  Must I continue to smile and bob and bow forever?  Do come to my rescue!”

But the hospitable hostess now hurried from the room and presently reappeared followed by her maids, each of whom carried a little lacquered table.  It was indicated that the American guests would confer a favor if they would seat themselves.

“I’ve never sat on the floor in my life,” complained Miss Campbell in a low voice.  “It will kill me.  I am certain it will displace a ligament.”

“You’ll just have to, Cousin.  Try sitting on your feet.  That’s the way they do.”

“I think tailor-fashion would be easier,” answered the poor lady.  “Don’t help me.  They might take it for rudeness.  Everything is bad manners in this country.”

Crossing her feet, she slid slowly to the floor.  The visitors were promptly served with delicious tea, rice cakes, candied fruits and other confections molded and colored like the flowers in season.

Certainly that was one of the most silent and ceremonious tea parties ever given.  It was all dumb show, but the manners of the three Japanese ladies were exquisite.  While this excruciatingly polite scene transpired, there raged such a storm of wind and rain that at each moment they feared the fragile bamboo and rice paper abode would be blown from its slight foundations.

“They won’t lose much if it’s blown away,” thought Billie.  “There’s not a stick of furniture to be seen except a screen.”

In one corner of the room was a splendid vase almost as tall as she was, and on the wall hung a scroll showing two women gathering cherry blossoms.  On the floor were soft mats fitted closely together.

Suddenly Billie blushed scarlet.

“Oh, Cousin Helen,” she exclaimed.  “We forgot to take off our shoes.”

“Don’t speak to me,” answered her relation.  “My legs have gone to sleep and I have lost the power to move them.  I am in an agony of pain.”

At this moment a figure darkened the doorway.  The three Japanese women rose and bowed low and the servants made obeisances.  The five Americans were amazed to recognize their friend of yesterday, Yoritomo Ito.  He was quite as amazed as they were, although he did not show it except by the flick of an eyelash, because no well-bred Japanese ever shows surprise.

“How do you do, Mr. Ito?” cried Miss Campbell.  “Is it possible that this is your house we have broken into so rudely?”

It was indeed Mr. Ito’s home, and, the three ladies were his mother, his aunt and his sister.

“It is a great pleasure, I am sure, that you have found refuge in my home.  I trust they have served you well.”