“I left her,” said the youth, coloring. “I should rather be here.”
“It is too bad that you are missing the pictures,” she said.
He shook his head.
“Haven’t you some biscuits to feed to the fish?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “The fat boy provided us.” He felt in his pocket and handed her several wafers of rice flour.
She broke one of them and let the crumbs fall. “They say these fish are very old,” she observed; “hundreds of years, and they come regularly to the balcony to be fed. Think of all the interesting people who have thrown crumbs to them!”
“Can you think of any one as interesting as you?” he said, half playfully.
She made no answer, but continued feeding the carp. “That biggest one,” she observed, “looks very wise. I wonder if he remembers what the Shoguns gave him.”
“Probably all crumbs are very much alike to him,” said the youth.
He finished putting on his shoes and joined her by the rail.