A shower did come up, a big one that lasted most of the way home, and Billie’s gray linen suit was wet through, but the weather was warm and except that she looked extremely bedraggled, she was none the worse and refused to accept the loan of Nicholas’ coat.  They left the three guests in Tokyo with the hired motor car, and Mr. Campbell with Miss Helen and Mary joined the others in the “Comet.”  So it was that the subject of the raincoat came up again.  Miss Campbell, seeing her young cousin’s wet suit, exclaimed: 

“Child!  Where is your raincoat?  How often have I told you never to leave it behind, especially in this country where it rains more than it shines.”

“It’s torn, Cousin Helen,” answered Billie meekly.

“But why, pray, didn’t you take Nancy’s?”

Billie considered a moment what she should say and ended by saying nothing at all.

“Why didn’t you borrow Nancy’s, Billie?” asked Elinor.

“Nancy didn’t seem willing to lend it,” answered Billie at last, slowly.

There was a strained silence.  Then Miss Campbell remarked: 

“I believe the child must be seriously ill.  It sounds like typhoid fever.  I think we’d better send for the doctor as soon as we reach home.”

However, this was not necessary.  There was Nancy waiting for them on the piazza.  Her headache had gone, she said, and she looked quite well and much more cheerful than usual.  She did not notice the faintest tinge of coldness in their greetings.  Even Mr. Campbell was not so cordial as usual.

“You must have been caught in the worst of the rain,” she said, looking at Billie’s dripping clothes.

“We were,” put in Mary quickly, trying to cover the silence of the others.

Somehow Billie felt just a bit savage at the moment.

“I’ve brought you some sacred water from Fujiyama, Nancy,” she said presently, in order to hide her hurt feelings.

“Oh, thanks.  What am I to do with it?  Drink it down?”

“Oh, no.  Anoint yourself with it.  Sprinkle it over the top of your head for luck.”

“Better put on your mackintosh first, Nancy,” broke in Elinor coldly.  “You’ll be wetter than Billie if you don’t.”

Nancy’s face flushed scarlet and she turned and walked into the house without a word.

“Oh, Elinor, I wish you hadn’t said that,” said Billie.  “See how you hurt her.”

“She needed to be hurt,” replied Elinor.  “She needs to be brought to her senses.”

All the world was topsy turvy.  The Motor Maids were quarreling among themselves and there was mystery in the air.  Their happy little kingdom was being destroyed by internecine wars, and for what reason, Billie could not understand.  It was inevitable that Mary and Elinor would come over to her side, now, that is, if Nancy persisted in this strange behavior.

That night, lying beside Nancy in the dark, Billie’s hand crept out to meet her unhappy friend’s.  But Nancy’s hands were clasped in front of her and she lay quite still, staring at the wall, the most miserable young person in all the universe.