“Tell father all about Gozo,” he said.
Plum Blossom grew very red and looked towards Mrs. Kurukawa. Then she spoke low in Japanese, her hand half pointing in the direction of her step-mother.
“She—she—send away our Gozo,” she said.
At the mention of Gozo’s name Juji paused in his eating of a juicy persimmon to give signs of a renewal of his late tear-storm. Little Iris drew him comfortingly into her arms, soothing him in this wise:
“There, there, Juji, don’t cry! Gozo is coming back some day. Oh, you should laugh, Juji, because our Gozo is so brave and fine. Think of it! He is a soldier of the beloved Ten-shi-sama!”
“Soldier!” cried Mr. Kurukawa, and leaped to his feet. “My boy a soldier!” he cried, almost staggering forward.
“Yes, father,” said Plum Blossom. “Gozo is a g-great soldier now!”
Mr. Kurukawa went towards the grandparents.
“What does this mean? He was left in your charge. He is only a child—a mere boy of eighteen. How could he enlist at such an age?”
“He passed for older,” said the grandmother, slowly. “We did everything to prevent his going—but he has gone.”