Blind to reason, they cowered before a masterful mind.  They knew the unbending quality of Kishimoto’s will, his power to command, to punish.  The number grew steadily less, leaving Page and Zura and her grandfather alone.

Kishimoto San turned to the girl and with words cold as icicles, cutting as a whiplash, dismissed the child of his only daughter from his house and home.  He cared neither where she went, nor what she did.  She no longer belonged to him or his kind.  He disowned her.  Her foreign blood would be curse enough.

Bidding his family follow, he turned and left.  As Mrs. Wingate passed her disgraced offspring, with troubled voice and bewildered looks she repeated once more her set formula of reproof, “Oh, Zura!  I no understand yo’ naughty; I no like yo’ bad.”

The homeless girl, Page, and I were left in the darkness.

“Come with me, Zura,” I said, not knowing what else to do; and the three of us made our way toward the high twinkling light that marked the House of the Misty Star.

As the boy walked beside her, hatless, tie and collar disarranged, I could but see what his defense of Zura had cost him in physical strength.  His face twitched with the effort to control his shaking limbs; that strange illness had robbed him of so much.

“Please, Mr. Hanaford, do not trouble to climb the steps with us,” I urged.  “There is no danger.  By now the crowd is doubtless laughing over the whole thing.”

“No, Miss Jenkins,” he said, “I cannot leave you till you are safely shut in the house.  Rather interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Interesting!  Well, I guess I know now what making a night of it means.”

It was my one attempt to lighten conversation.  We went on in silence.

Wordless my other companion walked beside me.  She gave no sign.  Only once, when I stumbled, the hand she outstretched in quick support was shaking and cold.

On reaching the house Page declined to come in; but, seeing the knuckles of his right hand torn and bleeding, I would take no refusal.  “Boy, your hand is bleeding.  Come right in and let me dress it,” said I.

“Don’t trouble.  It’s nothing; only a bit of knocked-up skin.  That coolie must have sharpened his teeth for the occasion.”

Zura spoke for the first time as I made the room light.  “Oh!  I didn’t know you were hurt, Mr. Hanaford.  I am sorry.  Let me see.”  She took his hand in both of hers and held it closer under the lamp.  Still holding it, she lifted her eyes with sympathy to his.  “I’m not worth it,” she said softly.

I did not hear Page’s answer; but I thought he was almost gruff when he quickly drew away and walked to the window.  He had nothing to say when I bandaged his hand, and he soon left.