Moreover, this little jaunt in the car had stirred their blood into action.  They felt once more the call of the road, the fever to be going.  The old accustomed sensation that they must make a certain place by such and such a time had returned.  They were of one opinion, this party of Motor-Gypsies:  to go back home until sunset would be a foolish waste of golden hours.  Their five wishes accorded like the notes of an harmonious chord and presently Billie, influenced by the force of this silent opinion, exclaimed: 

“Suppose we take a country road and eat lunch later at some wayside tea house?”

“Splendid!” cried the others almost before she had finished.

Miss Campbell raised one feeble objection—­something about the weather—­but it was promptly overridden by her relative at the wheel, and presently she settled down in her seat and abandoned herself to the joy of motion.

“In all the ten thousands of miles we have covered in this car,” she remarked, “I never was happier than I am at this moment.”

“Why can’t we go to the Arakawa Ridge?” suggested Mary, consulting a guide book.  “It’s only seven miles from here on the Sumida River and there are miles and miles of road bordered by double-flowering cherry trees.”

This was agreeable to all concerned, and, accordingly, Komatsu guided them to this famous spot, the pride of Tokyo.  On the way they passed hundreds of people in jinrikshas or on foot.  Many of the pedestrians carried paper parasols and fans, exactly like the chorus in the “Mikado.”  Those who rode in the graceful little two-wheeled buggies looked out upon the world with expressions of calm enjoyment.

The “Comet” was a conspicuous object as it progressed slowly along the road, but so far all things worked together for good and there was no cause for uneasiness.  At a little roadside tea house they paused for lunch.  The building was nothing more than a shed with a low-hanging thatched roof and sides made of coarse strips of matting joined together with bamboo sticks.  Humble as it was it possessed a peculiar charm, all its own.  They were presently to find that the rear of the tea house facing a little garden was glorified into something rich and strange by a magnificent azalea bush in full bloom.  It reached to the roof of the house and was a mass of deep red blossoms.

The ear was left in a pine grove near the house, and following Komatsu along a rocky path they presently found themselves in this delectable little garden.  Here they were met by an old man and his wife, a very aged couple whose gentle deprecating expressions almost moved Miss Campbell to tears.

“The adorable old things,” she exclaimed.  “They remind me of two old turtle doves.”

Close at their heels came two little maids who conducted the ladies into the tea house and brought tea for temporary refreshment, while Komatsu consulted with the proprietor regarding lunch.