Child as she was, this touching story of filial piety made her respect Bunkichi all the more.
“Oh, wasn’t that good of him!” she said, turning to Sadakichi. “Do you think you could have done it?”
“I—yes; only there would have been no need for me to sell dragon-flies. I should have sold the wearing-things in our shop,” he answered, arrogantly.
“‘Why, it’s just like a real dragon-fly!’ she cried, with delight”
Bunkichi had now finished making the dragon-fly, and, holding it between his hands, he spun it round, and up it went into the air with a whirring sound, and lighted on the ground again some five or six paces away.
“Why, it’s just like a real dragon-fly!” cried the child, with delight. “Do let me have it!” And, taking it in her hands, she tried to set it flying, but she could only make it go up a little way.
Then Sadakichi, wishing to try his hand, pushed forward. “Let me have it,” he said, “and I’ll show you how well I can do it”; and, seizing hold of it, with the force of both hands he sent it flying high into the air. “There, now—see how it goes!” and, while the little girl was watching it with delight, the dragon-fly flew over the wall fence and dropped into the water beyond.
The little child ran after it, followed by Sadakichi and Bunkichi. There was a little gate in the garden, opening on a jetty. Through this they passed and stood together on the plank, watching the dragon-fly tossing about on the water.
“Oh, I wish we could get it,” said the little girl, looking at it wistfully; “if it would only come just in front of us!”