“I winna.”
“Well, of all the old women I ever met,” said Leslie, addressing a “thundering great camellia tree” that stood opposite, “this partner of mine takes the bun!—don’t he, Popsums?” bending down and looking into the small face, the left cheek of which was now resting against his knee.
Popsums, in reply to the smile and interrogative tone in the question she did not understand, smiled gravely back and murmured something that sounded like “Hei.”
M’Gourley snorted, and Leslie broke out laughing; he had little of the Japanese, but he knew that “Hei” meant “Yes.”
CHAPTER IV
AMIDST THE HILLS
Just then a ripple of laughter came down the breeze, and round the corner of the road, heading for Nikko, came at full trot seven rikshas streaming out like a scarf of color; a dream of color—for each riksha contained a lady most beautiful to behold under the splendor of her umbrella.
They were a party of girls returning to Nikko after some sylvan freak, and they drew up as if by common assent to admire the azaleas.