“I can’t make him out. He didn’t seem glad, exactly,” says Mark. “He didn’t seem s-s-sorry, either. Just interested—and speculatin’. I’ll bet that right now Motu’s figgerin’ whether the minister can do him any good, and if he can how we’re to get to him.”
“Maybe Motu wouldn’t want him to know he was besieged here.”
“I was thinkin’ that,” says Mark. “But,” he went on, after he’d scowled and pinched his cheek for a couple of minutes, “I think it would be a g-g-good thing if the minister did know it—if word was got to him that Motu was here and what was goin’ on. Maybe he wouldn’t be int’rested a cent’s worth, and maybe he’d be willin’ to give a whole heap to know.”
“Anyhow,” says I, “he don’t know, and, furthermore, he ain’t likely to find out very soon.”
“Tallow,” says Mark, sort of solemn, “I believe Motu’s somebody p-p-pretty important. This ain’t just an ordinary scrape we’re in. S’pose somebody important in Japan should come to the United States and somethin’ unpleasant should h-h-happen to him. It would sort of reflect on the United States, wouldn’t it? To be sure it would. Besides, how would f-f-folks in Japan look at it? From all I can gather they don’t love the United States much. Havin’ somethin’ happen to a person they honor would make ’em mad, wouldn’t it?”
“Likely to,” says I, “but ’tain’t likely the Japanese nation would get much excited over one boy—or honor him much, either. Motu’s all right and I like him, but I don’t see as he’s any more wonderful than the rest of us. Well, the whole United States isn’t honorin’ you and me much, are they? I rather guess not. Then neither is Japan honorin’ a boy, either.”
“Japan’s different. They’ve got emperors and princes and dukes and such over there. Guess they’d honor a b-b-boy emperor, wouldn’t they?”
“You don’t calc’late Motu’s Emperor of Japan, do you?”
“No, nor a prince, either, nor yet a duke. But he’s somebody besides the feller that s-s-sells peanuts on the corner, you can bet.”
“What if he is? What are we goin’ to do about it?”