“So you decided to come back to us, Nancy?” she asked, trying to smile naturally.

“If I almost passed away from homesickness in one night, how should I have borne it for—­for longer?” answered Nancy, flushing.

“We missed you terribly,” was all Billie could trust herself to say as she hurried to her room to take off her wet things.

Just then Onoye sounded the Japanese chimes to announce that luncheon was served and presently they were all assembled around the table.

But never a word did Nancy say about the torn letter which some one had so carefully pieced together.

CHAPTER XV.

THE ANCIENT CITY OF SLEEP.

“How would four young parties and another younger party, who claims to be old and rheumatic, but isn’t, like to take a trip?” asked Mr. Campbell one evening at dinner.

Through the inky curtain of blackness that had for days overcast the skies the sun had at last burst with a radiance that seemed twice as great to unaccustomed eyes.  From somewhere a life-giving breeze had sprung up and driven away the vapors.  Back rolled the walls of mist and fog, and in a few hours the world became a smiling paradise of flowers and of grass and foliage of intensest green.

Immediately the aspect of life changed.  Four young parties and a party who claimed to be old but wasn’t were eager for anything that would furnish variety after the late monotony of existence.

“I feel,” said Mr. Campbell, “that we have all been suffering from certain states of mind that about match the ‘Comet’s’ disguise, and it occurred to me that a change of air would be beneficial.”

“And will the ‘Cornet’ go, too?” asked Billie.

“I’m afraid the ‘Comet’ is not built for mountain roads in Japan, little daughter,” answered her father.  “We’ll go by train and then by jinrikshas, much as I regret to leave your gasoline pet behind.”

“But where are we going?” asked Miss Campbell, in a tone of noble resignation, so chastened were her high spirits by the pains of rheumatism.

“I am going to take you to Nikko to spend a few days, and in order to liven up things a bit the boys are coming, too, even old Mr. Buxton.”

“Is—­” began Nancy, and checked herself.

“Well, Miss Nancy, ‘is’ what?” asked Mr. Campbell, smiling.

Billie knew perfectly well that Nancy was going to say:  “Is Yoritomo going?” but had changed her mind, when she asked instead: 

“Is Nikko a town?”

“It’s a number of things.  It’s considered by some people to be the most beautiful place in the world, for one thing.  It’s a small town; it’s a magnificent forest of cryptomerias; and it’s a sacred mountain, and a collection of marvelous old temples and tombs and statues of Buddha.  But first and foremost it is a cool, green, lovely spot with good, dry, pine-scented air for certain persons feeling in need of such.”