“I wonder how you would like a Japanese dinner, Honor! I was in Japan last winter, and I dined several times with a friend of mine. We sat on mats on the floor—but yes!” as Honor raised wide eyes of astonishment—“there is nothing else to sit on in my friend’s house; she does not care for European customs. My table was like your doll’s table, about ten inches high. I wore Japanese dress, for I was expected to carry food away—but yes! in my sleeves. Eat your supper, child, and don’t open your eyes too wide; as I said before, they might drop out. The sleeves are very wide—a kimono, in short—and have large pockets in them, lined with something easily cleaned; I forget its name. The last time I took away—let me see!—a fried fish, a crab, some rice-balls, a quantity of dried ginger and some ripe lychee nuts. Catch Miss Honor’s eyes, Folly; they are dropping out!”
Mrs. Damian laughed, the prettiest little dry laugh.
“Many countries, many customs!” she continued. “You will find that out, when you begin to move about, child. If I had not taken away these things, I should have affronted my hostess by appearing not to like her delicacies. You see? Some ice-cream in your pocket?” as the waiter handed the café mousse a second time. “Your sleeves are too small! Alphonse, bring more of these little cakes, and a box; mademoiselle will take some to her companions.”
“Oh, madame, you are too kind!” Honor had just been wishing that Stephanie and Vivette could see these marvelous little cakes, with the pink and green frosting. “You—you comble me!”
Honor meant “overwhelm”; when she forgot an English word, she Anglicized the French one; it was quite simple, when one understood. Mrs. Damian appeared to understand, for she repeated “comble” with her rustling laugh.
“I was a schoolgirl myself before the Flood! Would your teacher let the girls have some ice-cream? Alphonse, a mold of this—two quarts—in the carriage at eight o’clock, with the cakes. My compliments to—what’s her name? Madame Madeleine, and I trust she will permit a little treat, before bed-time. So! Now, Honor, come and sit beside me on this sofa. I have done all the talking hitherto; now I must rest, and you shall talk.”
Honor was stricken dumb: she gazed at her hostess, mute and round-eyed.
“Talk!” said Mrs. Damian sharply. “You are not deaf? Nor dumb? Very well!” She settled herself among a pile of satin cushions.
“Pardon, madame!” faltered Honor. “Of what shall I talk? I—I know so little—”
“Talk of what interests you! Talk to Miss Folly; I shall take forty winks. Tell her what you want to do when you leave school!”