“Japanese children must be obedient, and she followed, not even daring to allow her little feet to lag or to seem disturbed in any way.
“She was soon seated on the beach close beside her friend, while the nurse sat a little apart knitting, her eyes fixed on the pair.
“Making pictures in the sand is a wonderful game, a game the Japanese children adore.
“They have three bags of coloured sand and one of white. It is most fascinating to see them spread in the form of a square the white sand, till it resembles a sheet of white paper. On this with black and red, yellow or blue, they produce wonderful landscape effects.
“Cherry Blossom plunged her hands into the bags, her thoughts far away from the game.
“Suddenly her eyes flashed. She knew how to give him the message. Why hadn’t she thought of it before! Pictures could tell most anything, and so she eagerly began.
“Immediately from her tiny fingers the varicoloured sand trickled in a thin stream.
“At first as he idly watched, he saw in her picture a bit of sea, on which presently appeared a ship with spreading sail. On the fluffy white waves, creeping up to the shore, rocked a tiny boat. On the land appeared a prison, a perfect copy of one he had seen many times. In the small boat an American was seated.
“The man watched in tense silence. The child was telling him something. He lit a cigarette with unsteady hands, but as he remembered the sentinel on guard, he began to hum a tune.
“The child’s hands never trembled as she next produced a number of Japanese gentlemen.