"Ohayo Gozaimasu-Kyo wa yoi O tenki."
Merrit knew she had him at a disadvantage in her own language, but, always delighted to see the play of her dimples and the soft pink creep into her cheeks when he teased, he stood by her now, big and stern, and growling.
"See here, Yuki San, otherwise Miss Snow, you just come off your high stilts of that impossible lingo, and speak nice English suitable for a little boy like me to understand."
"Li'l boy like you!" she rippled, "li'l boy like you! Merrit San him so long when he make Japanese bow he come down from top like big bamboo-tree—so!" Putting her hands high above her head, she bent till the tips of her fingers touched the floor. Still bent, she twisted her head till her eyes, bright with laughter, looked straight into Merrit's.
He lifted his eyebrows quizzically. "See here, Yuki San, you are fast developing the symptoms of a coquette."
She quickly straightened her back, and with a smile of bewilderment, exclaimed:
"Me croquette? No, no; croquette, him li'l chicken-ball what you eat. I no can be eat!"
Merrit shouted with delight, then grew grave.