"Onoye see no one. Onoye only humble servant"
"Nonsense, she might be very ill," put in Miss Campbell. "I'll go with you now, O'Haru. Lead the way."
The housekeeper gave a sigh of patient resignation and rose to her feet. Miss Campbell and the girls followed her down the long hall and across the passage to the servants' quarters.
At last they came to a small room at the end of the house. The floor was covered with the usual wicker mats. The shoji, or sliding partitions, were drawn together, and in the dim mellow light which filtered through these opaque walls they saw Onoye. She was stretched on the mat which is the usual Japanese bed, her neck on the uncomfortable little pillow bench. With a murmur of surprise and apology, she pulled herself weakly to her knees and touched her forehead to the floor.
"Pardon, gracious lady," she said, drawing her kimono closely about her.
"But, child, we didn't know you were so ill," said Miss Campbell, gently forcing the girl to lie down on her bed. "Has the doctor seen you?"
"Yes, gracious lady"
"What is the matter with you?"
Onoye shook her head.
"Not say it in English." She touched her forehead. "Muchly fire."