When the old grandmother, with whom they made their home, had gently broken the news to the children that their father had taken a new wife from the daughters of America, she had impressed upon them the seriousness of their duty to their new parent. They must love her as a mother, revere her as their father’s wife, remember her with their father in their prayers, and endeavor to learn those things which would be pleasing to her.
Gozo, who was the eldest of the children—he was seventeen years of age—set his little brothers and sisters a bad example. He grew red with anger, allowing himself to be so overcome by his feelings that for a moment he could not speak. Finally, he snapped his fingers and said, as his eyes blazed:
“Very well. So my father has put a barbarian in my mother’s place. I cannot respect him. Therefore I cannot further obey him. I shall leave his house at once!”
At these revolutionary words, his old grandfather commanded him sternly to keep his place while he taught him a lesson.
“To whom,” asked the old man, “do you owe your existence, and therefore your first duty in life?”
The hot-headed boy, who for a number of years had had neither father nor mother to guide him, answered, immediately:
“To the Emperor I owe my existence and duty, sir. He comes even before my father. Therefore, in leaving my father’s house to enter the service of Ten-shi-sama [the Mikado] I am but doing my highest duty.”
The grandfather looked at the flushed face of the young boy.
“You will enlist?”
“Yes, sir.”