“Impossible this afternoon, because I have an appointment to meet some very distinguished persons to discuss various plans.  One can hardly be polite enough as it is in this good-mannered country, and it would never do to break an engagement.  In another week or so I shall be free to take the ladies on excursions.”

“What is it all about, Papa?” asked Billie.

“Oh, government improvements, child.  Things that are too important to be talked about.”  He pinched her cheek.  “Well, beautiful American ladies, if you take Komatsu with you as interpreter and protector, guide and friend, I think you might be trusted to make a little cherry-blossom excursion in the ‘Comet.’  Only don’t go too far or too fast and on your life don’t run over anything, even a chicken, or there’ll be trouble for all concerned.”

So it was settled, and after breakfast Billie rushed to the mysterious back premises of the place on the other side of the house, where various hitherto unsuspected industries seemed to be in progress.  There was a kitchen garden hidden by a hedge of althea bushes, a chicken yard, and in a most picturesque building, used by the Spears for a carriage house, the “Comet.”  So far they had been unable to find a chauffeur, and Mr. Campbell himself had gone over all the machinery and put it in order.  Billie cranked up, and, jumping into her old accustomed place, guided the motor car into the open.  Komatsu came at a run from around the side of the house.  He was so amazed at sight of Billie in the chauffeur’s seat that he could not conceal his feelings.

“Komatsu, we want you to go with us to-day.  We want you to show us the cherry trees in Tokyo and Uyeno Park.  I suppose we couldn’t get to all the famous cherry blossom places in one afternoon?”

“Him fast runner.  No sakura all same see.”

“No, no.  We shall go quite slowly.  We want to see everything.”

In less than an hour the hanami, signifying in Japanese a picnic to a famous place to view certain flowers in season, conducted on the most modern lines in a red motor car, proceeded on its way.  Komatsu, a strangely incongruous figure, sat on the front seat beside Billie.

On the way to Tokyo the “Comet” created a sensation.  All the varied wayfarers on that picturesque highway paused and stared, pointing and gesticulating.

The city was a vision of beauty.  Most of its broad avenues are lined with close set rows of cherry trees which were now bursting into blossom in all the most delicate and exquisite shades of pink known to nature.  Komatsu guided them about the city with a kind of pleased and gratified delight as if he were showing his own property.  Sometimes he stood up and pointed to the feathery tops of carefully nurtured cherry trees, glimpses of which could be seen over the high walls surrounding private gardens.

The motorists were fairly bewildered by the beauty of it all.  It was like a vast conservatory with the roof taken off.  Nothing could have been more exotic or more lovely than the vista through the park with the white peak of Fujiyama, queen of mountains, glistening in the distance.