“Not exactly, but—well, there were many things we thought reasonable to ask for, and they did not agree with us.”
“What things?”
Gozo looked at his father. The latter, still eating, nodded to him to continue.
“Well, sometimes we begged for letters to be sent to our friends.”
“And they wouldn’t—”
“They would take our letters, but they did not send them. Our people permitted Russian prisoners to write to their friends. Not always were the Japanese allowed to do so.”
“But on the whole,” put in Mrs. Kurukawa, gently, “they treated you kindly, did they not?”
Gozo’s face was inscrutable. Then after a slight silence he answered, gravely:
“We were prisoners, madame—mother—not guests.”
“I bet they herded you together like cattle!” cried Billy, indignantly.