"Well spoken, my son," said his father from the veranda, where he had heard Tara's words. To Umé he said, "Our bravest men, the men who have given their lives for their country, and whose names will ever be spoken with reverence by our children's children, have died in the home-land."
He spoke solemnly, and Tara, who adored his father, moved close to his side as if to catch his brave spirit.
Umé also loved her father. She was grieved that he should speak to her in a tone of rebuke. She whirled about and fluttered to his other side, nestling under his arm and smiling the sweetest of smiles up into his face.
"Now I see, O Chichi San, why we fly the brave carp for our boys," she said prettily, "and why we steep the hardy iris flower in their bath water."
Her father looked down into her face. "You knew that very well before," he said with a smile. "You have heard of the wonderful strength of the carp ever since Tara was born. You know that every father who flies a paper carp for his son at this festival time does it with the hope that the boy will heed the sign and grow courageous and strong to overcome every obstacle."
But Umé still smiled up into her father's face. She felt that he was not yet quite pleased with her.
"Will you not come home early from the honorable business and tell us stories of the old war heroes?" she asked softly. "The mother tells them faithfully well, leaving out no brave detail, but she has never fought, as you have done, for our beloved Emperor. It is you alone who can make us feel the joy of battle so that even I wish I could wear a sword and fight with it for our country."
Umé had conquered. Her father put his hand upon her head in loving consent. "When our women also are ready to give their lives for Japan," he said, "the country will never suffer defeat."
But Umé told her cousin Tei later in the day that one need not always fight to win a victory.