Suddenly the girl slipped to the ground and buried her face in the folds of her mistress’s kimono. Madame Sano drew her almost roughly away.
“What is it?” she demanded, harshly, in Japanese. “It is unseemly to act so in the okusama’s presence. Keep your troubles for your own chamber.”
“But I have no troubles,” said the girl, rising and wiping her eyes with her sleeves. “I w-weep because I am happy.”
She brought the last word out with such hysterical vehemence that she woke the older sleepers. They sat up, looking about them, startled from their dreams. But Mrs. Kurukawa shook the girl by the arm. Her voice was hoarse.
“What is it, Natsu? Tell me quickly!”
For answer the girl turned towards the house and pointed to the silent figure standing there by the doorway. Even in the twilight the Japanese children knew him. They jumped tumblingly from the jinrikishas and ran towards him, calling his name aloud:
“Gozo! Gozo! Gozo!”
Mrs. Kurakawa turned and blindly followed the children.
He put the clinging children aside from him and advanced a step towards her. Then suddenly he stopped short, standing uncertainly. She spoke with a note of irresistible appeal in her voice.
“Oh, you bring me news of my husband—your father!” she said.