XXVII
“HURRY down to Takashima, Taro, and tell him he must send us without fail two large cases of the best and brightest fire-flies. Now, remember, they must be delivered by to-morrow morning at latest.”
“Can’t we bring them back, grandma?” queried Taro.
“No, oh no, you might break the netting and the flies escape. Where is Beely?”
“Here I am, gam,” answered the boy from his place on the back piazza. He was engaged in pasting carefully in a scrap-book several newspaper pictures of his step-father.
“Beely,” said Madame Sano, speaking now in English, “you must go down to the river and get all the white pebbles and shells you can find. Fill up your sleeves full.”
“Aw right, gam,” said the boy, obediently, though he left his fascinating book reluctantly.
“What d’ye want with them, gam?”
“For the flower-beds I desire. You would not have them look shabby when your honorable father comes.”
Billy sauntered off on his errand, whistling, overtook Taro, and they raced down the street, Taro in the lead.