“They would beat anybody at our Sunday-school picnic races,” he told Taro.
It would be great fun, suggested Taro, if some time they could come to Tokio alone and apprentice themselves to jinriki-men. Then they would learn to run! The suggestion thrilled Billy. He saw in it glowing possibilities of easily earned money; the opportunity to own a jinrikisha and learn to run like the wind. But, then, how would they be soldiers? Certainly their military ambitions came first.
At the end of two hours’ running they drew up before a tea-house which stood within a little park of its own. Smiling and bowing the jinriki-men suggested that their patrons must be thirsty, as they, the runners, were. Would they not condescend to refresh themselves with tea and sweetmeats? The suggestion went to the hearts of the children. They had no idea how hungry they were, and so “mother” smilingly nodded to the little, begging faces. In a few moments they were within the tea-house. At that season of the year the tea-house is not well patronized, but as it was close to the noon hour, a number of Japanese business-men sat at the various tables eating their luncheon.
A maiden with roguish black eyes came running over to the Kurukawas to help the children into their seats. Her rosy mouth slipped open as she saw that her visitors, despite their dress, were not all Japanese. For a moment she stood perfectly still staring at Marion, but when Mrs. Kurukawa addressed her she slipped to her knees, bowed very deeply, and inquired what they might command her to bring.
All of them wanted tea and sweetmeats except Billy, who insisted upon having a piece of rare steak with fried onions. When Taro translated this astonishing order the little maid shook her head and laughingly declared that they were too poor a house to serve such extraordinary luxuries.
“Well,” said Billy, crossly, “I’m tired of rice-cakes and sweet things. I want something else. Do you keep chop-suey?” It was a dish he liked very much, having become acquainted with it through a Chinese cook lately employed. The little maid thought she might bring something resembling chop-suey. So she sped away to fill the orders. Soon she was back, followed by another maid carrying the luncheon on black lacquer trays. The omelets ordered by Mrs. Kurukawa were served in the most attractive shapes. Each omelet was formed in a different pattern, as a chrysanthemum, a twig of pine-tree, a plum blossom.
“They’re too pretty to eat,” said Marion, looking with delight at the flower form before her.
“THE LITTLE WAITRESS BROUGHT HER SAMISEN AND .... BEGAN TO PLAY AND SING”
Billy’s chop-suey was a chicken-stew, to which had been added mushrooms. As they ate the meal the little waitress brought her samisen, and, running her fingers lightly across it, she began to first play and then to sing: