THERE was a long silence from the soldier in Manchuria. The Kurukawas, like many other families in Japan, watched for the mail each day with greedy feverishness. But the autumn passed away and there was no further word from Kurukawa. He had told his wife she must expect these long silences. There were reasons that she must understand for such interludes. A soldier’s letter cannot be had every day. And so she waited with the patience worthy of a brave woman. But when December was ushered in with a little drift of snow, and she knew that winter was coming, her thoughts wandered unceasingly to that one out there in the frozen Manchuria, and, brooding over it, her strength gave way. Nights passed; alone with a terrified imagination further exhausted her. Suddenly she decided that she must go at once to Tokio and make inquiry of the Minister of War of the fate of her husband. Leaving Juji and the baby at home, she took the three little girls and two older boys with her. She told the children nothing of her fears. They believed the trip to Tokio was made for the purpose of making purchases for the Christmas and New-Year’s season.
“When you come back,” had said the smiling old grandmother, “the honorable house will be quite new and fresh for New-Year’s.”
The children were excited by the prospect of a visit to Tokio. The Japanese children had never been in the large town. Thus it actually fell to Billy and Marion to describe Tokio to them, for they had passed two days in the city.
The little party arrived at the Shinbasi Station, where they took jinrikishas and rode through the bewildering streets to the Imperial Hotel. As it was past six o’clock, the children after dinner went straight to bed, thoroughly tired out. But Mrs. Kurukawa sought to see some one who could allay her anxiety. There were only two clerks left in the War Office at this hour. They were excessively polite and even sympathetic, going over all the lists of the dead and wounded they possessed. There were two Kurukawas among the wounded, but neither was her husband. She felt that a great load had been lifted from her, and with a happier heart she drove back to the hotel. For the first time in many days she slept in peace.
Early in the morning she was awakened by the children. They were crowded at the windows, looking out upon the streets and chattering.
“I’m going to buy all my gifts to-day,” announced Marion, “because if we don’t buy early all the best things will be snapped up,” she added, wisely.
Taro said, reflectively: “I’m going to wait till second January.”
“Second January!” cried Billy. “Why, that’s after Christmas!”
Taro nodded.
“I nod give Christmas presents. I give only New-Year’s gift.”