Presently one of the little maids hurried in and placed a menu in front of Miss Campbell.

“Me speak little honorable American language,” she said.  “You like all same American food?  Will gracious lady make eyes to look?”

Miss Campbell raised her lorgnette and examined the menu while the small maid backed away and disappeared, in the throes of extreme shyness over her endeavors.

“Girls,” said Miss Campbell, in a curious, strained voice, “don’t any of you dare to laugh because of course they are all peeping at us from somewhere, but I want you all to make eyes to look at this amazing production.”

They crowded about her and over her shoulder read the following menu: 

Soup by egge
Eels to rice
Seaweed
Podadoe Sweete
Sponge boiled
Doormats a la U. S.

There were tears of laughter in Miss Campbell’s eyes and her voice was so shaky she could hardly trust herself to speak, even when she saw the little maid returning around the corner of the azalea bush.  The faces of the four girls were crimson with suppressed laughter.

“Very nice, my dear,” said Miss Campbell, “you may bring in luncheon as soon as you can.”

After she had gone there was a brief but eloquent silence.

“Do, some one, make a joke,” whispered Elinor.

At that moment a strange looking bob-tailed cat walked by.

“There,” cried Nancy, and they all instantly burst into hysterical laughter.

“In the name of good health and excellent digestion, tell me what are doormats?” asked Billie.

“Dear knows,” answered her cousin, “but I think if they must be eaten it would be best to take boiled sponges afterward.”

The luncheon was purely Japanese, in spite of the English menu, and it was really excellent.

“I never thought to come to eels,” Miss Campbell observed, but she enjoyed her portion, nevertheless.

“Doormats a la U. S.” turned out to be a sweet cake with a sugary icing.

“I believe they were intended for doughnuts,” observed that astute little person, Mary Price, and no doubt she was quite right.

When the feast was over Miss Campbell paid the bill, which was pathetically small, since there was no charge for tea and sweetmeats.

“How do we give the tip?” she asked.

“I know,” answered Billie, “Papa taught me about that the other day.”  She consulted her note book.  Tearing out a leaf, she wrapped up what would amount to about a dollar in American money, then with her little silver pencil she wrote on the package “On chadai.”  “That means ’honorable money for tea,’” she explained.

Next she clapped her hands.  All through the house voices could be heard calling “Hai!  Hai!”

Presently the maid appeared hanging her head humbly.  Billie motioned to her that she wished the proprietor, who, indeed, was close at hand.  With an expression of much surprise he received the chadai and bowing to the ground murmured something which Komatsu explained meant honorable thanks for poor insignificant service.