I gave orders to Ishi, to which Zura added, “You are to take your dishonorable old body to the furthermost shrine, and repent of your rudeness to your young mistress.”  As he turned his angry back upon her, she inquired in honeyed tones, “Mercy, Ishi!  How did you ever teach your face to look that way?  Take it to a circus!  It will make a fortune!”

Very soon after she came into the room so laden with roses that I could just see her face.  “Aren’t they darlings?” she exclaimed.  “Poor old Ishi, I can’t blame him much!” Then to me, “Say, beautifulest, tell you what:  I’ll arrange these flowers and I promise, if I find a sign of an ancestor, I’ll go at once and apologize to his mighty madness—­if you will write a note to Mr. Hanaford and bid him to the Thanksgiving feast.”

I agreed, and she went her busy way.  In addressing the note to Page, I was reminded that a few days before his servant had called for a package of his master’s clothing which Jane and I kept in repair.  To my surprise the servant said that Hanaford San had gone away on business.

Possibly my look of astonishment at the news invited confidence.  After glancing around to make sure we were alone, he approached and in mixed Japanese and broken English told me how his heart was weighed “with anxious” for his employer.  He said his master was very kind.  Therefore, Master’s trouble was his.  Sometimes the young man was happy and sang tunes through whistle of lips; but one day he walked the floor all night.  Lately he sat by the windows long hours and look fast into picture scenery.  He feared illness for master.  Often he forget to sing, whistle, and eat foods; just sit with hand on head.  “One time I say ‘Master, have got painful in brain spot?  Or have fox spirit got brain?’ He give big laugh; then myself makes many fools to see happy stay with master.”

He wished Hanaford San had some people, but in his room was not one picture of ancestor.  He never had a happy time with many guests, and samisens and feast drinks, like other young American Dana Sans in Yokohama.  When not teaching he sat alone with only his pipe and heart for company, sometimes a book.

It was not polite for him to speak of Master’s affairs but he hoped the foreign Sensies could advise him how to make Hanaford San have more happy thoughts all of time.

I told the boy that Mr. Hanaford had lost his money and all his people, and probably it was thoughts of these losses that caused his sad hours; he would be all right in time.

“Time,” murmured the unsatisfied man, “time very long for troubled heart of young.”

Then, as if trying to forget that he was powerless to help, he began to recite the events of a recent visit to the city of a group of Tokio’s famous detectives.  They were searching for special fugitives and making the rounds of all suspicious quarters.  It was most exciting and because of master’s absence he had been able to see much.  Though he wished Page had been at home.  It might have entertained him.  With many thanks for my “listening ear” the servant left.