“Hauld there,” said M’Gourley. Then in Japanese he explained that yesterday she had declared that eight times the cherry blossoms had blown since her humble self, etc.
Ah, yes! but how was she to know? a lump of mud like her!
In conclusion, she took back her statement about the snow. She must have dreamt that in the wood.
Then the court began to consult, the “lump of mud” sitting in their midst pensive and rather sad, a scarlet flower in her black hair, and the bow of her obi looking very stiff and huge.
“Look here,” said Leslie at last. “Tell him I’ll look after her, and pay all expenses till she’s found. Tell him to have the place searched, all that wood and country, and I’ll pay for it; and if they can’t find her people I’ll adopt her. I will, begad!”
Mac translated.
At first the chief of police seemed to think that the “lump of mud” should be hauled off to the police office—impounded, in short; then M’Gourley intervened. M’Gourley was a power in Japan just then, for the astute Scot had made himself very useful to the government in past years, and the chief of police, when he heard what Mac had to say, agreed to leave matters where they were whilst the country was being searched, and the chief of police at Tokyo communicated with.
Then he took his departure, and here began the prosperity of the Tea House of the Tortoise.
Three elderly gentlemen in kimonos were the first to arrive; after them a youth in a bowler hat, and with the face of an uninspired idiot. These sat round and sipped saki and smoked little pipes, and talked to Wild-cherry-bud and Fir-branch, and listened to the grasshopper singing in his cage, whilst more guests arrived, and still more. So that Fir-branch, Wild-cherry-bud, & Co., were full of business, so full indeed that mother Ranunculus, driven to her wits’ end, sent out for hired help.
At eleven, when M’Gourley and his companion went out to inspect the golden Shrines, the Tea House of the Tortoise was humming like a bee-hive.