They were all waiting there in the hall. Hard by, the servants in their best attire waited also.
“It’s after twelve already,” said Billy, consulting for the twentieth time his Christmas watch. “They’re late.”
“I hear sounds,” said Taro, his ears pinched up like a small dog’s.
Taro rushed to the shoji, and before his grandmother could prevent him he had thrust his fist through the beautiful new paper upon it. Billy, however, made a rush for the door, forgetting in one moment all the grandmother’s injunctions concerning the “dignified and most refined” reception due at such a time. Billy’s departure seemed to affect the girls. They looked at one another in hesitation. Then almost with one accord they followed their brother’s lead, dragging little Juji along with them. Down the garden-path they sped, stocking-footed, for they had not stayed to put on clogs. Billy and Taro pushed through the gate ruthlessly. Down the road they dashed. A moment later they were in the midst of the crowd following and cheering their father. They shouted as they ran and waved their arms wildly above their heads. Mr. Kurukawa saw them while still a distance off, and suddenly arose in his seat. Unmindful of the crowd, he gave an answering shout to the boys. How he reached the house he never could remember. His wife told him afterwards that the children seemed to fall upon him at once. They clung about his legs, his hands, and his waist.
Once across the threshold, he gave a great sigh. Then in a voice which went straight to the very heart of old Madame Sano, he said:
“This house seems to be the most beautiful place on earth.”
He permitted an excited, happy maid to take off his sandals and bathe his feet. Then followed by the happy ones, he ascended the stairs to the upper floor, where the meal was served. Never in his life, he declared over and over again, had he been so hungry. He ate everything placed before him. When the children begged to be told this or that about his adventures he would answer: “After dinner. Talk, all of you, if you wish, but let me eat.”
“I thought,” said Billy, “that you were wounded, and that wounded men aren’t allowed to eat so much.”
“So I thought in Saseho, my boy. We ate not much in Manchuria, but we famished in the hospital.”
“Honorable father, why did you not send me that sword?” queried Taro.