He threw it aside and caught the little, trembling Plum Blossom in his arms, hugging her tightly. She hid her face in his bosom. After a time he set her down upon the floor.
“This,” he said, “is Plum Blossom. In America she would be called Roly-poly—she is so fat, and, like her father, good-natured,” and he pinched her cheek. “Go now,” he bade her, “and kiss your new mother.”
She went obediently, but with fear in her eyes, towards Mrs. Kurukawa. The latter knelt and held out both her arms. She was crying a bit, and possibly it was the tears and the sweet sound of her voice that won Plum Blossom. She tried to remember the speech she had learned, but the only words that came to her lips were:
“Come agin,” and this she kept mechanically reiterating. “Come agin—come agin—come agin.”
Here it is painful to relate that the young son of Mrs. Kurukawa chose to make himself heard in uncouth American slang. Billy spoke almost reflectively, as if he had heard that “Come agin” somewhere before. “Come agin, on agin, gone agin, Finnegan!” said Billy, promptly.
“Oh, Billy, hush!” said his mother, reprovingly, but Plum Blossom’s face radiated. Here was a kindred spirit, one who had repeated her own words. “Come agin,” and then possibly finer ones.
Meanwhile, Iris, showing first a curious little topknot, gradually projected her head, and then her whole body through the dividing doors. She stood in the opening greedily watching Plum Blossom. Half hidden behind her scanty little skirt, the small, fat face of Juji peered. Though no one so far had seen him, Juji, with the usual consciousness of two and a half years, was alternately showing and then hiding his face, being divided between a desire to stand joyfully on his head, or indulge in one of his famous roars. Iris, edging farther into the room, drew him after her. Mrs. Kurukawa perceived them. On the instant Juji sank to the floor, impeding the further progress of his sister by clinging to her legs.
“Oh, the darling little boy!” cried the little American girl, and ran to him to lift him up. Juji’s lip began to protrude ominously. Plum Blossom sprang into the breach.
“Juji! Juji!” she cried, in motherly Japanese, “don’t cry! Good boy! Give nice present to—l-lady!”
Whereupon Juji held out a grimy little hand, from which Plum Blossom extracted a crumpled paper package. She presented it to Mrs. Kurukawa with a smiling bow.