As far as O Tetsu was concerned, none of these rumors had ever reached her. It was known that in her case the smith objected to and would resent such a piece of tale-bearing; and the mysterious fear of him was sufficient to prevent anything of the kind. Once only had such an attempt been made.
As the girl one forenoon passed out of the house on her way to the town to make a few purchases, accompanied, as she always was, by her old servant, she was stopped not far from her door by two old beldames with whom she had a slight acquaintance. The latter had been loitering under pretence of looking at some tumble-down buildings on the other side of the street, to which both of them pointed now and then in apparently a deeply interested way; in reality, however, they were waiting, hoping perhaps to meet the smith’s daughter, who went out only two or three times a month, but generally at this hour. It was not the first time that these women, who were known as confirmed gossips, had been seen in the neighborhood; but they had never before met the young girl, whom, when they saw her now, they accosted with such a show of affection and caressing words that she could not but stop and make some sort of reply. As the conversation continued, however, she, knowing that her father objected strongly to anything like street gossip, became uneasy and bent a significant look on her servant. The latter, who in general was quick enough in her perceptions, and of her own accord had often stopped such rencontres, sometimes in a very abrupt and unceremonious manner, seemed in this instance unable to understand the meaning of her young mistress’s uneasiness, and, contrary to all her habits, even took a lively interest in the conversation.
DESERTED BUILDINGS.
“Miss O Tetsu is getting to be very proud now,” said one of the women, the wife of a small sugar-baker, in the course of the conversation which followed numerous minute inquiries after the other’s health. “Yet when you were a child you never passed our poor, humble place without calling for your candy, which I took so much pleasure in giving to the dear, pretty little thing.”
“Oh, yes!” her companion, the shrewish spouse of an omochaya (dealer in toys), chimed in, “and at that time she rarely passed our place without accepting some little toy or plaything; and bless her little heart, how she did enjoy the sight of the picture-books, and the tops which she began to spin as soon as she passed out into the street! But Miss O Tetsu has become a great lady now, with more beauty and wealth than any other girl in the province, and poor people like us can hardly expect to be noticed by her.”
“You are both certainly mistaken,” replied O Tetsu, vexed with the others as well as herself. She could not understand the meaning of all this talk; she only remembered going to these women’s shops, as she went to others, to make occasional purchases, and she was at a loss to account for this fervor and extreme show of friendly sympathy. Still, above everything she would not be thought proud or unkind to inferiors, and so she continued: “I am not a child any more, and do not now care for sweetmeats or toys; but I do not mean to forget any kindness done to me, and if you care for my company, I will call upon you the next time I go out.”
“I knew it; I knew what a kind-hearted and good-natured little fairy you are,” the former speaker quickly and rather illogically rejoined. “And how is your dear father?” she continued abruptly, noticing the other’s impatience to get away.
“I have not seen my father for some days; he is finishing a sword now, and at such times he always shuts himself up with my brother in the smithy, allowing not even me to disturb him.”