Once only did the girl’s manner soften, and then neither to Jane nor to me.  Outside, from every glint of the sun on the new green of the pines to the joyous call of the white sea birds, was the glad message of spring, and spring in this lovely Island is no mere promise of things to come, but an everlasting fulfilment of the glorious promises made in the hour the great Artist dreamed it.

Zura looked through the window at the sea, gaily breaking its silvered crests against the gray old rocks and, just above, the great patches of rose-pink cherries streaking the blue haze of the mountains.  As the girl took in the tender beauty of the scene some memory seemed to touch her.  Her eyes filled, her lips trembled; but she quickly recovered herself and soon after made her adieus.

I walked with her to the gate and watched her go down the long flight of steps.  Everything about her, from the poise of her head to the swing of her body, courted conflict and prophesied disaster.  I felt as if I had snatched a bag of candy from a hungry child.

A week later Kishimoto San came to make the call customary on occasions when any kindness had been done to him or his family.  His gratitude for my efforts to make some headway with Zura was very sincere.  He supplemented his thanks by a large box of cake.  The gift was decorated with a red string and a good-luck emblem and wrapped in a bright yellow cloth.  From the atmosphere, all concerned needed not only good luck, but something the color of sunshine; one look into Kishimoto San’s face assured me it was neither springtime nor rosetime in the path he was treading.

My visitor was a busy man of many affairs, and I a woman much occupied; but custom said that a ceremonial visit must be just so long, and Kishimoto would rather break his neck once a week than a rule of etiquette once a life-time.

So we fell to talking of a recent trip he had made to Yokohama.  He said a great foreign fleet was visiting the port.  The festivities and the gaieties were unending.  He had been only a looker-on, but a deeply-interested observer.

He spoke of how his country had strained its every resource to give welcome to this fleet, making a neighborly call, though armed to the ship’s last rail.  He continued: 

“The whole scene give me reminder of one very small boy who had grand record of good fight, also he has the great exhaustion of strength from last battle with tall giant.  Small boy has poverty too, but he draw forth his many ancient toy for guest to play.  Makes big debt of money to give him feast.  He very much desire to keep face of big boy all covered with smiles.”

Then from the way my visitor half shut his eyes and looked at me, I knew something more was coming.

“Americans are a great people, but disagree with their wonderfulness.”

“You mean they are inconsistent?” I suggested.

Kishimoto San, being too much in earnest to search for the proper English, dropped into Japanese—­