The next two days passed happily, if a little giddily, and Jane and I commanded every resource to entertain our guest. Zura saw and responded like a watch-spring suddenly released. She found in two simple old women perfect subjects on which to vent her long-suppressed spirits. She entered into the activities of the household with such amazing zest, it seemed as if we were playing kitchen furniture. While it surprised me how one young girl could so disturb regular working hours and get things generally a-flutter, I could easily see that all she needed was a chance to be herself. That was the point that Kishimoto had to understand and would not.
"Please let me be Santa Claus this time, and give out the cod liver oil and the milk and the bibs to the babies," Zura begged one day when these articles were to be distributed; "and mayn't I keep the kiddies for just a little while to play with?"
An hour later, attracted by much noise, I walked out into the garden and saw Zura with a clean, but much-patched baby on her back, one in each arm, and a half-dozen trailing behind. The game was "Here we go 'round the mulberry bush," sung in English and played in Japanese.
"Oh, Miss Jenkins," cried the merry leader, "come quick. We need a bush and you will make such a nice fat one."
Before I knew what was happening I was drawn into the mad frolic, reckless of all the work piled up on my desk in the study. I thought maybe I was growing feeble-minded, but the way to it was delightful, if foolish.
Strangely enough, during this time Page Hanaford did not appear. We explained to Zura that he was present the day she made her brief call.
"Oh! do you mean the day I flew into the 'Misty Star' and right out again? Yes, I remember his outlines. Where did you find him? Looked more like a sure-enough man than anything I've seen in Japan."
Jane monopolized the talk at breakfast that morning, describing to Zura the good looks of Page Hanaford and the charm of his romantic story.
Zura seemed more amused by Jane's manner and the funny twist in her tongue than impressed by her description.
Miss Gray finally turned to me and urged once again, "Do let's have him to-night. I'll get the dinner."
Zura clapped her hands and said eagerly, "Oh, let's do! I haven't been to a party in a century. If Miss Gray will be the 'chefess,' I'll be assistant potato peeler. I can make the best salad. It's called 'Salade de la Marquise de Chateaubriand'; but it won't hurt you. It is only peanuts and cabbage. Daddy and I used to feast on it once a week."
There was no resisting her enthusiasm, and I sent a note to Page Hanaford asking him to come that evening for dinner.
After all there was nothing I could label a reason why he and Zura should not meet.
Domesticity was the last thing anybody would suspect a characteristic of either Jane or Zura. Not knowing what the result would be, I gave the cook a holiday and turned the incongruous pair loose to do as they pleased in kitchen and dining-room.
All the afternoon I was busy with my writing, but from time to time there penetrated through theclosed doors of my study sounds of swift-moving feet and gay laughter. The old house seemed infected with youth. Contact with it was sweet. Some of my dreams were coming true. I found myself repeating a long-forgotten poem as I took up another stupid report. I even hummed a tune, something I had not done in twenty years.
Just before the dinner hour Jane and Zura came into the living-room. Evidently their work in a common cause put them on the friendliest terms. They were arm in arm, and I knew by the set of Jane's collar and the rose in her hair that young and skilful hands had been at work. Zura's white dress was dainty enough, but it seemed to melt into nothing about the neck and sleeves. It must have been brought from America, as I had seen none like it. Nobody could deny, however, that with her face, all aglow beneath her lustrous hair, she was a goodly sight for young and old.
"Isn't she the very sweetest thing?" asked Jane as they approached, adding wistfully, "But I truly wish her dear nose didn't tilt up!"
Zura with stern, forbidding brows, but laughing eyes, rebuked the wisher. "See here, Miss Jinny Gray, that is the only nose I have, if it is sudden. I've worked hard to coax it in the straight andnarrow path. I've even slept on my face for a week at a time." Then with swift, dramatic gestures as the gong sounded at the entrance-door, she whispered, "Hush! The man of mystery doth appear!"
Page Hanaford came in. All our tempting tonics and special dishes had failed to curve the angles in the boy's face and body. He still looked ill. The brooding sadness that frequently overshadowed his lighter moods troubled me.
When he caught sight of Zura, his alertness of manner was pleasing and the kind of joy-look in his eyes did me good. I guessed he was downright glad to see something youthful hovering around the "Misty Star." I was glad too, but the situation did not seem to call for hurrahs and fireworks. Two young American people meeting, shaking hands, and courteously greeting each other was an unusual sight to me, but after all a natural one. Page said he had been obliged to forego the pleasure of seeing us, as he had been very busy organizing his new classes. He was glad to come again.
We went at once to dinner. I wondered from where the new "chefess" and her assistant "potato peeler" had procured the materials necessary to so pretentious a meal. Though surprised, I soonlearned that Jane Gray was mistress of the art of making something beautiful out of nothing.
We sat down to the softly-lighted table. The china was old and somewhat chipped, but on its white background a design in tender blue just matched the fresh larkspur used for table decorations. With the bringing in of each dish prepared by the new cooks the little party grew gayer and friendlier. The quaint old dining-room had never witnessed festivities like these. In the long ago it served as the audience chamber of a Daimyo's 'Besso' or play place. It was here that the feudal lord had held council of war and state. The walls had never before echoed the laughter of joyous youth. Now even the grotesque figures on the carved beams seemed to awaken from a long sleep and give back smile for smile.
Pine Tree and Maple Leaf, gay in holiday dress, usually so precise and formal, fluttered about like distracted butterflies as they served the dinner, often stopping to hide their faces in the long sleeves when Zura honored them with side remarks for, of course, she was the source of all the merriment, the life of the party. She also reduced Jane to a state of helpless laughter. I felt the years dropping away from me, and the face of the boy whom I hadlearned to love was less strained and brighter than I had ever seen it. He said little at first, but his eyes smiled, and he listened eagerly to all Zura's chatter and seemed to be hearing once again of joys dreamed of and a world lost to him.
I knew myself growing happier every minute. The after-dinner coffee was not necessary to make, somewhere near my heart, little thrills jump up and down, like corn in a hot popper. I was getting what my soul craved—companionship, contact with life, and a glimpse into the doings of youth's magic years.
We soon returned to the living-room. Page prepared to smoke, and we settled down to a friendly, intimate time.
The talk turned to school. Jane had been telling of a Japanese woman, who, handicapped by the loss of an arm, and no longer being useful in field work, trudged every morning eight miles to school where she could learn sewing so as to help husband and babies.
"Well!" remarked Zura doubtingly. "I can't sew with two hands, and my tongue thrown in. I do not see how she manipulates anything so contrary as a needle, single-fisted."
"Oh! my dear," said Jane, "you can believe withone hand just as hard as you can with two. It's hoping with all your might, while one is doing, that makes our dreams come true. I'm afraid you never really loved school."
"Oh, yes, I did in spots," she said. "Especially if there were a fight on—I mean—a contest. I could bear with cheerful resignation all the V.P's., the B.B's., and chilly zeros they tagged on to my deportment, but I would have worked myself into a family skeleton, before I would permit another girl to outclass me in a test exam! I could forgive the intellectual her sunset hair, but her Grecian nose—never!"
The methods employed by the two contestants as related by Zura had called forth my unqualified sympathy for the teacher when once again the gong on my front-door rang out and a voice was heard asking for Miss Wingate.
Zura jumped up from her seat and greeted the visitor with frank delight. "Oh!" she said, "it's Pinkey Chalmers! Who'd believe it! Hello, Pinkey! My! but it is good to see somebody from home."
There was ushered into the room a well nourished looking chap, who greeted Zura by her first name familiarly. I did not need to be told thathe was the young man with whom she had been seen on the highway. He was introduced to me as Mr. Tom Chalmers; I was told he had earned his nickname, "Pinkey," by contracting the pink-shirt habit.
The youth was carelessly courteous and very sure of himself. My impression was that he had seen too much of the world and not enough of his mother. He declined my invitation to dine, saying he had had late tea before he left the ship which was coaling in a nearby port.
"I started early," he went on, "but maybe you think I didn't have a great old time finding this place. You said in your note, Zura, it was the 'Misty Star' at the top of the hill. Before I reached here I thought it must be the last stopping-place in the Milky Way. Climbing up those steps was something awful."
Mr. Chalmers mopped his rosy brow, but later conversation proved his sensitiveness to feminine beauty quite overbalanced his physical exhaustion, as on the way many pretty girls peeped out from behind paper doors.
Page kept in the background, plainly arranging a mode of escape. He soon excused himself on the plea of work, saying as he left, "I'll drop in sometime to-morrow for the book. You'll find it by then."
With the look of a disappointed child on her face, Jane called to her little attendants, went to her room and resumed her knitting.
The unbidden guest was gaiety itself, and there was no denying the genuine pleasure of the girl. As the night was warm and glorious, I suggested that Zura and her guest sit on the balcony.
I picked up a book and sat by my reading lamp, but my eyes saw no printed words. My mind was busy with other thoughts. I was a woman without experience and had never lived in the world of these two. But intuition is stronger than custom and longer than fashion. The standards I held for the boys and girls of my country were high and noble. Frankly I did not like the man's attention to Zura, the intimate companionship suggested by his actions, nor his unreserved manner. The girl had told us of their chance meeting on the steamer coming from Seattle. Any mention of his name on her part was so open, she spoke of him as just a good playfellow to help her to pass away the time, I could not believe her feelings involved. But, fearful tragedies can be fostered by loneliness and in Mr. Chalmers's easy familiarity with thelonely girl, there was something wanting; I could only name it chivalry. Yet, as their voices came to me, glad, happy, vibrant with the joys of youth and its interests, I thought perhaps I did not understand the ways of the young and their customs, because I had never known their delights. On and on the boy and girl talked, unheeding my presence and the fact that I could hear.
From out the open window I caught a glimpse of the radiant blue between the distant hills and the light of the great evening star as it flashed its eternal message to the sparkling waters below.
Zura saw it and called softly to her companion, "Hush, Pinkey! Look! Isn't that a bit of heaven?"
And he of the earth replied, "I am looking at you. That is all the heaven I want just now."
"You silly!" was the unvexed reproof.
After a pause they began to talk of queer and, to me, far-off things—something about the "average" of "Giants" and "Cubs," of "quarter-backs," "full-backs" and a kind of "great rush," though what it was after I never knew. I supposed he was telling her of some wild tribe festival when he spoke of dances bearing the names of animals and fowls. It was all as incomprehensible to me as Hindustanee.
At last he said to her, "Well, girlie, I'm about due to leave now. I am sorry, but I must be moving." Then more softly, "Remember to-morrow night. You take a wrap and I'll see to the lunch. Boat will be ready at eight. By Jove! with a night like this what a lark it will be!"
The meaning of this was as clear as my crystal paper weight, and between the door where Mr. Chalmers bade Zura good-night and the lodge where I aroused the sleeping Ishi to his duty of custodian my thoughts went around like a fly-wheel on full duty.
The reflected flame of the old bronze lantern, swayed by the night-wind, fell on the great gate and transformed the carved dragons and attendant demons into living, moving things.
The departing guest saw it and remarked with a mock fear, "That dragonette seems alive; hope he and his angels will not follow me. Some carving that!"
"Are you interested in curious things, Mr. Chalmers?"
"I should say. Everything from jiujitsu to eels and chopsticks catches me."
"Have you ever seen a garden in this country which boasts some three or four centuries of birthdays?"
"No; but I should like to gaze on the spectacle."
Here was my opportunity to get in serious conference with the young man, and as it seemed one of the few sights Mr. Chalmers had missed, I was charmed to make my offer.
"My garden is very famous," I said, "and just now it is in its full beauty. I wonder if you would come to-morrow morning and permit me to show it to you?"
"Sure. Thanks," was the answer as he swung down the street and into the sleeping town below.
Early next day I cornered Jane privately and told her of the conversation I had overheard the night before and the visitor I was expecting, adding, "This is Orphan Asylum day. I can't go, but take Zura with you. I don't want her to see that Chalmers boy again. He's too friendly, too highly colored to suit my ideas."
If my tones were sharper than the occasion demanded, it was because of the combination of a shriveled cash account, and an undesirable male around. The general disturbance of mind made me say, not quite honestly:
"He may be all right, but so far I can see not one good quality in Mr. Chalmers's make-up."
"Oh! yes, there is, Miss Jenkins," said Jane, quick to defend. "He can whistle beautifully. Last night as he went down the street you shouldhave heard, 'Oh! Promise Me!' It was so pretty I almost cried."
"Spare your tears, Jane; the prettiest whistle that ever grew never made a real man. Mr. Chalmers will have to shine in another direction before I am convinced. Now get Zura and clear out, and don't you dare to take more than one basket of gingerbread Johnnies to the orphans."
When Mr. Tom Chalmers walked in at ten o'clock he barely concealed his regret at there being only an elderly hostess to receive him. The garden where I conducted my visitor, might have added joy to its symbol of peace on this perfect day of early spring. In each flower, in every leaf a glad spirit seemed to dwell. The feathered tribe that made its home among the branches madly rejoiced in a melody of song and twitterings. A white mother pigeon sheltered her young in a gnarled old plum tree, full-blossomed and crimson, while in a lofty pine old man crow scolded all birdkind as he swayed on the topmost branch, a bit of ebony against the matchless sky of blue.
There is only one effectual way of dealing with things one does not want to do—make past history of them as fast as possible. Very soon after entering the garden I asked Mr. Chalmers, who was mildly interested in the beauties before him, to sit down with me. Without further dallying, I went straight to the point of the interview. I told him I had heard him make the appointment with Zura the night before and he seemed to have forgotten to mention the matter to me, though I was close by. For a time at least I was responsible for Zura, and I thought it best to call his attention to a few facts which could not be overlooked.
"I wonder, Mr. Chalmers, if you realize that in this country it is impossible for a boy and a girl to associate together alone. It is barely permissible for you to see her in the company of others. Already your attentions have caused Zura to be talked about and there is very serious trouble with her grandfather. Further than that, the excursion you are planning for to-night is not only improper in any country, but it means actual disgrace here."
"It does? Well, I'll be hanged! Can't take a girl out and give her a good time! I knew these Japs were fools, but their laws are plain rot."
"Possibly, from your standpoint, Mr. Chalmers; but you see these laws and customs were in good working order in Japan long before Columbus hada grandfather. They can't be changed on the spur of the moment."
"That's all right," he responded hotly. "What you can't change you can sometimes break; I'm good at that kind of game."
Something in the boy's resentful face said that I was an impudent old meddler, an officious interloper. It made my voice as sharp as pins. "Very well, young man," I said, "there will be just one time in your life's history when you have encountered both an old law and an old woman that you will neither break nor change. Your attentions to Zura Wingate have got to be stopped and at once."
"Stopped!" he retorted. "Who's going to make me? I come from a free country where every fellow is his own boss. I'll do as I please. What do I care about the laws of these little brown monkeys! Where would they be anyhow if it wasn't for America? Didn't we yank 'em out of their hermits' nest and make them play the game whether they wanted to or not? They had better lay low! Don't they know there are ninety millions of us? Why, with one hand tied behind we could lick the Rising Sun clean off their little old flag!"
If it ever happened, I wondered about what pointin the battle I could locate Mr. Pinkey Chalmers. The more he talked, the less I was sure of my pet belief in the divine right of the individual. Then my heart jumped; I saw Page Hanaford coming.
"The maid was unable to find the book I came for. She directed me here. Do I interrupt?" he asked on reaching us, bowing slightly and looking inquiringly from my frowning face to Pinkey Chalmers's wrathful one.
"Interrupt? No," said that youth. "Welcome to our prayer-meeting! I've planned a picnic and a sail for Zura and me to-night. This lady says it shall not be and I'm speculating who's going to stop it."
Page stepped quietly up to the defiant Pinkey. "I will, Mr. Chalmers, if necessary. I know nothing of your plans, but in this place Miss Jenkins's word is law. You and I are here to obey it as gentlemen."
Tommy blazed. "Gentlemen! Who are you, I'd like to know, pushing in and meddling with my affairs," he said.
Page started forward. A sound stopped himPage started forward. A sound stopped him
At the challenge the old look of confusion momentarily clouded Page's eyes. Then with an effort he found himself. "My ancestry would notappeal to you, sir. But"—half good-humoredly—"the punch of my fist might."
"Oh h—h—ho!" stuttered Pinkey, angry and game. "You want to fight, do you! Light in! I'm ready."
Page started forward. A sound stopped him. It was voices singing an age-old nursery tune:
"Skip to my loobyloo,Skip to my loobyloo,Skip to my loobylooAll of a Saturday morning."
"Skip to my loobyloo,Skip to my loobyloo,Skip to my loobylooAll of a Saturday morning."
It was a strange and curious sight in that wonderful old garden. Down the sandy path under the overhanging blossoms came Jane and Zura, skipping and bowing in time to the game's demands. The last line brought them to us. Hand in hand they stopped, Zura dishevelled, Jane's hat looking as if it grew out of her ear, but old maid and young were laughing and happy as children.
"We were practising games for the 'Sylumites,'" explained Zura. "I'm premier danseuse to the Nipponese kiddies and Lady Jenny is my understudy. What's the argument?" she asked, observing first one face, then the other, keenly alive to some inharmony.
Mr. Chalmers started to speak.
I cut him short. "Zura, take Mr. Hanaford with you and give him the book he wants. You'll find it on my desk. You go too, Jane, and help; Mr. Hanaford is in a hurry. I'll bring Mr. Chalmers later."
"Lovely!" exclaimed Jane; "and everybody will stay to lunch. Come on, let's have a feast."
A feast! Jane knew well enough it was bean soup and salad day, and not even a sweet potato in the pantry. Miss Gray and Zura started house-ward, slowly followed by Page. He had looked very straight at Mr. Chalmers, who returned the gaze, adding compound interest, and a contemptuous shrug.
They were barely out of hearing when he began, "Brave soldier of fortune, that! Where did he come from?" Without waiting for me to answer he went on: "I didn't know you were a missionary, else you couldn't have tied me with a rope and made me listen to a sermon and a peck of golden texts 'à la Japanese.'"
"Unfortunately, Mr. Chalmers, I'm not a missionary. If I were, I would leave off teaching the so-called heathen at once and be head chaplain to some of the ninety millions you were talking about.Speaking of golden texts, I know my Bible too well to cast pearls. Now, young man, once for all let me say, this thing simply cannot be. Zura is a lonely girl in a strange land. She must live under her grandfather's roof. Your slightest attention will make mountains of difficulty for her, and she is not going with you to-night even if you mean to marry her to-morrow."
Pinkey turned nearly white. "Marry her!" he exclaimed, "Why, I'm engaged to a girl back home."
"Why, I never intended to marry her," he went on, more concerned than at any time before. "I was just having a little flirtation."
A little flirtation! By the powers that be! My country had progressed if it had come to the place where a man could swear allegiance to one woman, then blithely sail the seas to find heaven in another woman's eyes!
My few days' experience with a girl had set me more problems than I ever found in arithmetic. This boy was a whole algebra, and they both belonged to my country where I thought rearing children was like growing flowers. Not only were things happening, I was learning new lessons faster than I really cared for. I asked him if Zura knew of his engagement.
"No," he replied as he walked restlessly about, "I just met her coming over. She isn't in love with me and I don't trouble others with my private affairs."
"Really! I am afraid your manly self-control will cause Zura many a heart ache. I know of nothing more contemptible than being engaged to one girl and flirting with another."
"Most men do it," he answered sullenly.
"I don't believe you, boy, and it will take more proof than you can furnish to convince me that the men of my country have so low a standard of honor." I put a heavy accent on "men."
My guest flushed. "Well, I like that! What do you call me?"
"A thoughtless boy," I said. "But if you want to be a man, here's your chance. You go right back to your ship; write to Zura; tell her of your engagement and why you cannot see her any more; then stay away."
I knew as little about men as I did about fashion, but I plunged on. "What do you think the girl back home would think? Suppose somebody treated her as you have treated Zura? Shame on you, boy! Be a man and help an old woman as well as a young one."
The desire to have his own way died hard, but something conquered. "I'll do it! Just watch me," he said at last, a certain bravado accompanying his words.
I could see that he was much disturbed by our interview. He rose and moved towards the gate. His effort to live up to his newly-awakened manhood was boyish, but sincere.
He whirled about suddenly and said, "Miss Jenkins, I apologize to you and Zura. I—I'm awfully sorry. Zura is such a jolly chum, and she was very lonely; I wasn't any too gay myself at leaving home. But, honestly, I didn't mean to make it hard for her. I—I didn't think. Please tell her."
Impulsively he took my hand and lightly kissed it. But for his earnestness I would have thought it impudent. He was soon gone.
"Where's Pink Tommy?" cried Zura, as I entered the living-room.
"Where's Mr. Hanaford?" I questioned back.
"Why, he took his book and left. Didn't you say he was in a hurry?"
"Yes, I did; so was Mr. Chalmers. He left good-by!"
"Good-by?" In Zura's question there was much annoyance and some anger.
Jane chimed in. "Both the boys gone? What a pity! I've just made a relly joll."
Whether intentional or not, Jane's twisted words sent a little breeze of laughter before the coming storm. For the rest of the afternoon Zura had little to say. Book in hand she sat in the windowseat overlooking the water, watching the snow-white sails skim the opal sea.
I made no further explanation of Mr. Chalmers or his call, thinking it best to await the arrival of his note.
It came just before night. The reading of it left Zura white. She looked at me stonily, "I suppose," she began, stiff with anger, "that you did this."
"I did," I answered, looking into her blazing eyes.
"And I suppose too," she continued with withering scorn, "that was why the gay cavalier kissed your hand. I saw him through the window. So touching! That's what you were plotting when I found you in the garden. Page Hanaford was in it too; I saw it in his face. I hate him! I hate everything! Oh!" she cried, with a sudden outburstof passion, "the lot of you are a pack of withered mummies. Not one of you know what it means to be homesick; how I'm aching for a good time! Yes, I was going with Pinkey to have a picnic on the island. Yes, I was going to slip off without telling you. How could you understand? What was the harm in my having a little pleasure? Do you think I intend to bend to the rules of this law-cursed country? No, I will not! I'll go where I please. I'll have my own friends!"
As gently as I could I forced her to go to her room and listen to what I had to say. I related what had passed between Mr. Chalmers and me, of the fatal thing she was contemplating and how her grandfather had appealed to me for help. Never had I dreamed of such passion, such grief in a young girl. She was like some wild thing, trying to beat its way to freedom through prison bars.
No word of mine, however tender, seemed to touch her. I began to feel useless, miserable, and a joy killer in general. I almost wished for the dull days of old; at least I knew how to deal with them. I could give points to the Minister of Education, talk volubly at Mothers' Meetings and translate Confucius from the original, but I was helpless before this girl in her conflict with conditions to which she could never yield and which she fought with all the fierceness of undisciplined strength. I could think of no word to comfort her. I sought to divert her. "Zura, listen! Do you remember the hat I wore the first day I came to see you? You do remember, for I saw you smiling at it. Well, I've worn it for eight years. Don't cry, Dearie; please don't; and I'll let you send to Yokohama and select me another one."
Sending to Yokohama for anything had always been an event to me. It was the only excitement I could think of. But Zura flung herself around at me. "Hang your old hat! What is a hat to a man, and he the only friend I have out here. I don't care if there was another girl! She can have him. He was somebody to play with. It was something to do, a touch of home. Oh! it's cruel! cruel!"
Though another ideal was gone to smash, I was almost ready to cry myself with relief that it was only a playmate Zura wanted in Pinkey and not a sweetheart. Even at that I was at my wit's ends again to know what to say next when the door opened. Jane had heard the commotion, and there she stood in her sleeping garments and cap, a kimono floating behind her. In one hand was her candle, in the other the only ornament she possessed—a stuffed parrot!
She came in and, as if talking to soothe a three-year-old child, she coaxed, "Zury, Zury, don't cry! Look what Jane has to show you. This is Willie. For a long time he was my only friend; then he died. I missed him terribly at first; but don't you cry about Mr. Pinkey. There are plenty more men in this world, just as there are plenty more parrots and as easy to get."
"Oh, I wish everybody had died!" the girl sobbed on, heedless of Jane's attempt at comfort. Suddenly, turning away from us, she stretched her arms to the starlit space beyond the windows and cried, "I want my home! I want my friends! I want life!"
Hours later the great golden moon rose from out the velvety shadows of the mountains. It looked in the window, found a sleeping girl, and kissed the heavy lashes still wet with passionate tears. Veering still farther around to the balcony, it rested on two silent old women.
From the city there floated up to us the tinkling of the samisens in the tea-houses; the high, sweetvoice of a dancing girl as she sang the story of an old, old love; the sad notes of the blind masseur as he sought for trade by the pathos of his bamboo flute; the night-taps from the far-away barracks. Off to the west we could see the fast-disappearing lights of a Pacific steamer.
Neither sounds nor sights seemed to touch Miss Gray nor ruffle her serenity. For a long time she had been looking steadily into space, as if held by a mental vision of some spiritual glory.
"Jane," I asked at last, "what shall we do?"
Maybe it was the moon, but something had smoothed out every wrinkle in her face. She looked young and wise, as she leaned over and put her hand on mine. Here was a Jane I had never known before. In a voice low and sweet, she repeated the ancient hymn:
"God holds the key of all unknownAnd I am glad.If other hands should hold the key,Or if He trusted it to me,I might be sad."
"God holds the key of all unknownAnd I am glad.If other hands should hold the key,Or if He trusted it to me,I might be sad."
From that night my feeling of superiority to Jane diminished. Some of her strong sweetness, penetrating what seemed the crusty exterior of my heart, entered in to abide with me always.
When Zura appeared the following morning no reference was made to the events of the night before. She was pale and coldly courteous. In her sharp brightness there was no hint of an olive branch being hid about her to be offered to me or presented to her grandfather when she returned to his house that day, as previously arranged.
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 tosearch for the proper English, dropped into Japanese—
"Yes, the old proverb fits them, 'A physician breaking the rules of health.'"
"Why do you say that of my people?" I asked in a moment on the defensive.
"Because you literally strain your bodies to hold very high a moral standard for other nations, that you, yourselves fail to follow."
"What do you mean?"
He went on slowly:
"I was wondering if it is the custom in your country for ladies to smoke and drink liquor in public places?"
"Ladies!" I repeated amazed. "American women smoke and drink in public or other places! Certainly not," I declared emphatically. "Why do you hint at such a thing?"
Thirty years' absence from my country had glorified my ideal of its womanhood.
"Only this," said Kishimoto San, "several times while in Yokohama I had occasion to visit the Ocean Hotel. On the broad veranda facing the sea were seated numbers of great men and ladies together, many of them were smoking and I could not count the number of cocktails they consumed."
"They were not American women," was my vigorous protest.
"Yes, madam, they were. First they were beautiful and sparkle with eyes and tongue. All men bow down to them same as we bow to our Empress. Then afterwards I examine register and clerk of hotel confirm my thought."
"Possibly what you say is true, Kishimoto San, but hasn't it a flavor of littleness to label as a national habit the acts of a few exhilarated travelers? What have you to say of the vast army of American women who could not be forced into doing the things you mention?"
"Nothing. Except I was just wondering how America could spare so many missionaries. You know we do not beg for their company."
"It is not well for you to forget what your country of all others owes to the missionaries," I reminded him. "Though your beliefs are as far apart as the Poles, your sense of justice can but acknowledge that the unselfish service of the missionaries has led your people to heights they never could have reached without them."
"True," he responded, "it was not of their work in this country I was speaking, but the need of more work in their own. You have very goodstory in your big book about the 'beam and mote.' Do not the morals of your own country need uplifting before you insist on sending emissaries to turn my people from the teachings of many centuries? Has your religion and system of education proved so infallible for yourselves that you must force it upon others? Ah, madam, America has led us far and high, but the West is for the West and the East is for the East. So far, on the road to progress they can march side by side. Further than that, the paths divide and are separated by insurmountable differences, because your country is ruled by the teachings of freedom which you cannot practise. We are governed by the will of our divine Emperor, and the spirit of our ancestors. And I pray the great Amida before my country is stripped of her love and reverence for these, my poor spirit will be annihilated. For if they are taken away, what can we put in their places save the liberty of the Occident, which means license in the Orient."
I heard him in silence, for while there was much truth in what he said, many times we had argued ourselves into a fever over these questions and never got anywhere. We could no more agree than we could worship the same God.
For my part, whatever might be the erratic actions of a few of its freakish individuals, my faith in my country and its people is my faith in my God. I was old fashioned enough to believe every man his brother's keeper. There was nothing more for me to say.
For him, intense loyal patriot that he was, his devotion to crumbling old standards was making his fight against the new a bitter and hopeless struggle. But I had never seen the man so stirred as he was this day. He went on:
"What of the teachings for your young? They may do for your country, but not for mine! So far as I can see, your boys and girls are left to grow as weeds. They are as free as the foxes and learn their cunning without their wisdom. They are without filial piety. They reverence neither ancestors, the law, nor the great gods. Neither do they fear their own devil, nor the evil spirits."
"How do you know this?" I inquired.
"I know because I have seen their comings and goings. I have heard their free speech before the face of their parents and mothers-in-law. And I have seen them as visitors in the temples. Because"—the man's voice shook with feeling—"I have in my house a girl with the blood of the East inher veins and the influence of the West in her life. She is rebellious, rude and irreverent. Only this morning, when I gave warning what vengeance the great Buddha would send upon her for impiety, did she not toss her red head and laughingly scoff in my face." At this point I arose and rang for tea and my visitor continued: "Ah, I tremble at her daring. It is her foreign blood, her training. It will curse us yet."
I cheerfully assured him that I thought it would unless he could bring himself to see that the girl was entitled to a few rights as well as himself. I inquired how things had gone since Zura's visit to me. He said she had not often referred to her visit; when she did it was in pleasant terms. But her attitude to him and his household was as disrespectful as ever and, he thought, more defiant.
He then spoke of a great Buddhist festival that had begun that week and was to continue for several days. It was very important that each member of his family should attend and take part in every service. So far Zura had refused to go. With sketch-book in hand she disappeared from the house every morning. While he had not seen or heard of her being with the young officer man, he had no doubt she spent her time in his company.
In as few words as possible I told Kishimoto of my interview with Mr. Chalmers, and his promise not to come again nor to further complicate matters.
My listener was more than pleased. "I thank you," he said impressively. "You are a strong-minded woman."
When I remarked that Japan was no place for a weak-minded one he seemed to think again about smiling, but changed his mind and asked me solemnly if I would not honor him by coming to his house the following evening and, with his family, attending the great festival on the last night.
I accepted the invitation and he left.
In the evening Page Hanaford came to dinner. When I told him Zura had returned to her home, the smile on his face faded. It spread to his lips and eyes as I rehearsed the close of my interview with Mr. Chalmers.
"I sincerely hope that danger is passed," I said earnestly.
"I would not consider Mr. Chalmers dangerous by nature, only by thoughtlessness," remarked Page; "his bravado needs seasoning like his youth. Willyou not let me help you, Miss Gray?" he exclaimed as that lady came in almost smothered in the packages her frail arms held.
"Oh! it's just grand—how many nice people there are in the world," the little missionary said enthusiastically, when relieved of her burdens and seated. "That druggist gentleman was lovely. I bought a jar of vaseline, and he found out I could talk English. Then I found out he was trying to talk it; I told him about my hospital, and he gave me all these splendid medicines I brought in. There's court-plaster and corn-salve and quinine and tooth-powder and a dozen milk bottles for the babies, and plenty of cans to put things in. That's a good start for my drug store."
"The drug store and the patients, but the building!" I exclaimed. "Only a dream! I don't want to be a cold-water dasher but, Jane Gray, where will your visions lead you?"
"To Heaven, Miss Jenkins; that's where they were meant to lead. My hospital is a dream now because it is not built. But it's going to be soon; I know it. Didn't that splendid Japanese man clothe and educate hundreds of orphans for years on faith, pure and simple? Of course my little hospital is on the way! What better proof doesanybody want than the story of Mr. Hoda's Orphan Asylum?"
"Give us the story," urged Page, sinking into a big chair, after he had made Jane comfortable.
"Indeed I will. I love to tell it for Mr. Hoda certainly sold his soul for the highest price."
"When he was a very young and ambitious man, doing without food to get his medical education, three homeless babies fell into his hands. He and his mother lived on a little less and made room for the children. Soon more waifs drifted in. Mr. Hoda couldn't turn them away, but he wondered where he was to get the food for them. Then he had a vision and a dream. In it a great famine was sweeping the land. He saw a Man beautiful, but sorrowful, toiling up a steep mountain, with His arms full of helpless children and more clinging to His white garments. This wonderful Being turned and saw the great pity in Mr. Hoda's eyes, then called back, 'Help me care for the many that are left. I will never forsake you nor them.' After that, Mr. Hoda knew what his work was. He fought so hard to follow his vision he burned all his doctor's books for fear he might be tempted. He had gone hungry to buy those books. A long time after, Mr. Hoda didn't care about them, forhis vision brought him the beautifulest faith. He knew food and clothing for the children would come, and often there hasn't been a bite nor a penny in the house and almost time for the dinner bell to ring, when from somewhere food or the way to buy it, would come pouring in as though that Orphan Asylum was built in a land filled with manna and flowing with honey. Mr. Hoda and his flock of orphans have waited but never wanted. I'm waiting; but I am just as sure of my dream as I am of my friends."
"Of course you are," encouraged Page. "Talk of removing mountains! Why, a faith like that would set a whole Himalayan range to dancing. You are a great little missionary, Miss Gray."
"Thank you, Mr. Page; missionaries are not great. We can't help living what we believe. Wouldn't you be very happy if you were as certain and sure of all your dreams as we are?"
"Happy!" cried the boy, getting up and walking about. "I'd give a life-time to know—never mind. Your hospital will come true. When it does we will ask the city to decorate as it is doing to-day for some big festival. My! the streets look like bargain day in Christmas trees," he ended, recovering some of his light spirits.
"That's so. There is a festival. What is it, Miss Jenkins?"
I explained the meaning of the festival, which was more strictly observant of ritual and old customs than any other of the year, and I told of Kishimoto San's invitation to me.
Miss Gray exclaimed anxiously, "But you are not going?" Jane was slow in shaking off the limitations of the doctrine that branded all religions in a foreign country as idolatrous and contaminating.
I said I intended going.
"Oh, Miss Jenkins," Jane cried, "do be careful! They might ask you to bow down before one of those heathen idols, and maybe they might make you offer at its feet a stick of something smelly in one of those insect burners."
For the first time since I had known Page Hanaford, he shouted with laughter. "Sweet aroma of incense, that's a blow for you!" he said. "Come to think of it, I believe I'll happen along and see how it's done."
On my way to join the festival party at the appointed time I passed through the streets of the city, brilliant with decorations of flags and lanterns. Gay crowds sauntered beneath graceful arches of pine and lacey bamboo. For the time worry and work were laid aside with every-day dress, and like smiling, happy children on a picnic, the vast throngs moved toward the temple where the great "Matsuri" was in progress. A man deaf and blind would have known it was a holiday by the feel in the air. He would also have felt as I did the change in the atmosphere as he neared Kishimoto's house.
The maid, who answered my summons, said the family would soon be ready to start; the hairdresser had finished; the ceremonial obis were being tied for the madams; the Dana San had about completed his devotions before the household shrine. Would I bring my most august body into the living-room and hang my honorable self upon the floor?
I complied with the request and found Zura alone.
Considering the strained relations at our last parting and the solemnity of the present occasion, she greeted me with a flippancy that was laughable. "Oh, here's Miss Jenkins! Welcome to our happy home, and I certainly wish you joy on this jaunt."
"Are you not going with us?" I asked, observing that she carried in her hand a paint-box as well as her hat.
"Not I," she laughed. "I'd picnic with Mrs. Satan and her family first. But do come in. The ogre awaits you. One of the two witches has just had a spell."
"Which one?" I inquired, putting into my question every inviting tone at my command. I was determined to get on terms of friendliness with this girl. Had not I in the long ago longed for liberty and for life as I had never craved orthodox salvation? Not even to myself had I acknowledged how strong an appeal to my love of fair play, was Zura's frank rebellion against being reduced to an emotionless creature guaranteed to move at the command of her Masters.
All her warfare had been in the open. At notime in her visit to me, did she mention the unhappy conditions at her home nor voice complaints of its inmates.
Undisciplined, untrained as she was, there was in her nature a certain reserve which compelled admiration. When not on the defensive for what she considered her rights, she had a decided sweetness that drew me irresistibly. I did not approve of her methods, but my sympathy was deep for this child of freedom forced to live in the painful restrictions of a conservative Japanese family.
I was beginning to see that Zura would break long before she would bend. To break at all meant disaster. To break alone meant ruin. She was of my country, my people. Without further ado I arrayed myself on the side of the one who had four against her.
Before she answered my question, she looked at me as a chained creature might eye a strange hand to see if it were outstretched for a caress or a blow. Having decided, she went on, "The ancientest one. Some red lilies I carried brought on the fit. An hour ago I gathered a few from the rice fields and took them to my room. When the old dame saw their crimson petals she began to foam at the mouth and splutter a lot of nonsense about the flowersbeing tongues of flame; she said they would set the house on fire and burn us all to a cinder. If I thought that I'd bring a cartload, and then run. She took them away and threw them in the hot bath. The lovely things shriveled like scalded baby hands. About then, my august grandfather arrived on the scene. He ordered me to put on Japanese dress and come to their old festival. I've planned otherwise, and I won't do it." She put on her hat and stabbed it with a long pin.
"Look here, Zura," I ventured, "you'll miss a joyfully good time if you don't go. The country people swarm to these festivals, and babies are as thick as ants. You'll see more pictures than you can paint in a life-time. There are queer things to buy and funny things to eat. The fire-walking ceremony is wonderful."
This caught her attention. "What do they do at this ceremony?"
"It has been a long time since I saw it, but I remember it was thrilling to watch the worshipers walk barefoot over the hot coals. Come along with me, Zura. Come on," I urged, seeking in my mind for a more persuasive word and finding a memory of Mr. Pinkey Chalmers to help me out, "and we'll make a night of it."
I saw nothing humorous in what I had said, but it had a curious effect on Zura. She changed her mind so swiftly, her manner grew so gleeful, I thought maybe I had made a promise I could not keep.
"All right, old sport," she laughed with reckless gaiety, "I'll go; you stick to me and I'll give you the time of your young life. But make it clear to the devotees in this house that I won't tie myself up in a kimono; neither will I bend an inch before any of those dropsical-looking images."
Soon we heard the rustle of the Master's silken garments. He entered, closely followed by his mother, wife and daughter, their kimonos and obis in colors soft and mellow as befitted older women, and each covered with an overcoat thin of texture and rich in quality. This outer garment was the insignia not only of rank, but of the grave importance of the occasion.
Their greetings to me were soon over, and Zura announced that she was going with us.
Without a glimmer of pleasure in her seeming willingness to obey, her grandfather said, "It is well."
Had he glanced at the girl when he voiced it, he would have chosen other words. In her verybright eyes there was a look which boded no spirit of good will.
Kishimoto San, with his mother, led the way on our pilgrimage. We followed behind; and bringing up the rear was an army of servants loaded with blankets, cushions and hampers of food. It was to be a long session of worship and festivities, and the family would need all the comforts of home before their return.
The festival was called "Tanjo Shaka" (Buddha's Birthday), and as our little party passed through the great gates the crowds of holiday-makers, which thronged the enclosure, testified to the popularity of the day. The broad avenue leading to the steps of the old temple was lined on each side by temporary booths, from which one could purchase anything from a hot sweet potato to a much-decorated prayer, from false teeth to a charm to ward off the chicken-pox.
There was a man who made a dainty fan while you waited; the cook who made a cake while you prayed; the handkerchief man and the sock man; and ah me! the funny old codger, bald of head and shriveled of body, but with a bit of heaven in his weary old eyes. It was the reflection of the baby faces about him. His was the privilege of fashioning from sticky, sweet dough wonderful flowers of brilliant hue and the children flocked about him like birds of Paradise to a field of grain.
On every side were set up images of the infant Buddha. Around these, worshipers crowded that they might purchase some portion of the licorice tea poured over the image and supposed to guard against many evils.
Groups of white-garbed pilgrims from distant cities passed on to worship, their tinkling bells keeping time to the soft pad of their sandaled feet. Under the overhanging boughs of the ancient trees were placed low platforms spread with bright red blankets, and thereon sat the family groups. In these throngs very few were well off in worldly possessions. For the masses this day meant curtailment of necessities for many other days. It was a willing sacrifice, for, having done duty at the temple and cheerfully contributed their hard-earned "rin," they yielded themselves up to the enjoyment of being set free, in a space where neither worry nor want were permitted to enter, where their poor lives touched something higher or less sordid than themselves. The day was a gift of the gods and they would be merry, for to-morrow was toil and poverty. It was neither satisfying norpermanent but all so simple and happy. Only a heartless stickler for creed and dogma would have labeled it idolatry or banished from the garden of the temple the participants who were childlike in their enjoyment.
It took us some time to make our way to the building where Kishimoto guided us that he with his family might first offer their devotions. Once there, the ceremony began. I was not expected to participate and stood aside. It was not without anxiety that I heard the grandfather give a stern command to Zura to approach and kneel with him before the great bronze image, and her equally rigid refusal to do so.
With difficulty the proud old Buddhist refrained from creating a scene before the other worshipers, but it was plain that he was stung to the quick for the honor of his religion. From the look in his face he only bided his time.
The girl moved nearer to me and none too quietly mocked priest and worshiper gaily. Both maid and man seemed determined once for all to settle the supremacy of will. They were like two warriors measuring their strength before the final contest. The slip of a dark-eyed girl seemed an adversary easily disposed of. Though justly angered, heropponent had learned that if from him she had inherited tenacity of will, the legacy from her father had been an invincible belief in her individual right and courage to assert it.
After this clash we walked about till it was time for the evening meal. It was served in an open tea-house. Hospitable and kind to the last degree, both host and hostesses pressed upon me every dainty eatable, and tried by all they knew to dispel the gathering clouds. I was touched by their efforts and did my best to smooth the way to peace, but my endeavors were vain. It was a conflict of conditions in which were both wrong and right, but which not to the end of time would ever be reconciled.
At last the family sat apart and talked in low tones. Zura moved closer to me and, though white-lipped and restless after the many encounters with her grandfather, her spirit was undaunted.