I rose to depart and he caught me by an arm.
“So you tramp?” he cried. “One time me go States. Many time see tramp. In States tramp many time hungry. Not in Japan. Jap man all good; give plenty. Wait. I make you present.”
Having found his people the least lovable and by far the most selfish on the globe, I awaited the proposed benefaction with great curiosity. The fellow turned and harangued the gathering at great length. His hearers crowded up to give me congratulatory slaps on the back. I expected to have at least a ticket to my own land forced upon me. Having published his generosity to the four winds, the charitable fellow set the cavalcade in motion and marched down the street at my side.
“Jap man ver’ good,” he reiterated, while his admirers beamed upon me. “You damn tramp. No business in Japan, but ver’ hungry. Me give you this.”
He opened his hand and displayed a copper sen.
Being covetous of the half-cent as a souvenir of Japanese generosity, I stretched out a hand for it. The philanthropist snatched his own away.
“Not give money to damn tramp!” he cried. “Wait for shop. Me buy you two rice cakes.”
Rice cakes being valueless as souvenirs, I rejected the kind offer and left the cavalcade to chatter their astonishment.
The village was long. A half-mile beyond I stopped at a shop and ordered supper, the price of which amounted to six cents. A great hubbub soon arose in the street outside, and, before the meal was served, my would-be benefactor, red-eyed with rage, fought his way into the booth.
“Why you tell you have no money?” he bellowed.