While this was going on the man who had attached himself to me stood close by, seemingly much interested.  In a detached sort of way he began talking in broken English.  “Miss Jaygray most wonderful of persons,” he observed.  “She come to this place of hell and make clean spot.  She like gray owl too.  She have see of all bad things.  But learning of such stop right in her eye; it never get to her memory place.  All time she talk ’bout one, two very little good thing what are in this street.  Low womans in here give much works also rin and sen for to buy water tubs for babies.  Bad mens give work of hands, for Miss Jaygray.  She most wonderful of females.  Maybe because she ’Merican.  Hijiyama much honored by skilful ’Mericans:  Jenkins San, Wingate San, Hanaford San too.  He most skilful of all.  You know Hanaford San?”

Something in his voice made me look in the man’s face.  It was as expressive as biscuit dough.  I acknowledged my acquaintance with Page.

The man resumed:  “Hanaford San nice gentleman.  I give wonder why he stay this far-away place.  I hear some time he have much sadful.  Too bad.  Maybe he have the yearn for his country.  If this be truthful why he not give quick return to ’Merica?”

I answered that Mr. Hanaford had lost all his money and his father and had come to Japan to begin anew.  His success in teaching was reason enough for his remaining.

Apparently indifferent my questioner mused as if to himself:  “Him papa have gone dead.  Badful news.  And moneys have got lost.  Most big troublesome for young man.”

I did not think it strange this queer person knew Page.  The boy had all kinds and conditions in his classes, as Jane had in her Quarters.  Neither was it unusual for a stranger to follow me around.  When I went to a new part of the city, I was accustomed to being followed as if I were a part of a circus.  But my self-attached friend’s interest in Page’s history caused me to observe him more closely.  Except that his patched clothes were cleaner and he spoke English I could discover little difference between him and Jane’s other guests.

Criminal or not his carelessly put but persistent questions regarding Page, his habits, how long I had known him, how often he came to my house and many other things, so annoyed me that I arose to find Jane and suggest going home.  Failing in my quest I returned to find my inquisitor gone and Zura putting on her coat and hat.

“Zura,” I said, “who was that man who stuck to me all afternoon like furniture varnish?  He made me talk whether I wanted to or not.  Such questions as he asked!”