Why our entry had created such excess of excitement we could not imagine. We had grown blasé in our role of being interesting exhibits. One may even grow so accustomed to having an interest taken in every detail that a lack of acknowledgment of curiosity seems the abnormal. This time mere curiosity did not appear to be the factor. Each waylayer was trying to speak. In the confusion I could not catch one familiar word. I knew most of the names that are sometimes cried at foreigners in the port cities, but there was nothing hostile in the present attack. As a sedative I tried to ask the way to the inn but my simple question increased the babel. We had no answer that we could understand. We had been smiling and bearing the mystery, and there was no choice but to continue so doing. Every shopkeeper in the street was apparently out now, helping to gesticulate if not to add words. We had continued walking and we came to an open space. All the brown hands simultaneously pointed in a dramatic sweep across a swampy field. On the roof of a large, new building stood Kenjiro Hori. He had changed into a kimono which he was modestly trying to hold around him in the freshening breeze and at the same time to wave a huge white sheet with all the energy of his other wiry arm.
When we reached the door Hori had come down from the roof. He was very expeditious in his instructions to the servants and our shoes were off and we were in our room before we had a chance to ask a question.
“Now that we’re settled——” Hori began with a slight accent on the “settled.” He then hesitated.
“Yes?” we inquired.
“Oh, I was just going to ask whether you wouldn’t rather dry your clothes and take a bath before we go exploring around the town.”
As O-Owre-san had been answering that question by hanging up his wet clothes and getting into a cotton kimono, it did not seem to require argument.
“Is the bath ready?” he asked.
“It’s always ready—natural hot springs,” Hori answered.
I stacked up some cushions and stretched out in comfort along the balcony. I sipped tea and smoked until I was sure O-Owre-san would not be returning for something forgotten. I had been suspecting that Hori’s nonchalance had clay feet.