Her little spurt of temper flickered out pitifully.

“Ah, pray forgive me,” she implored. “I mos’ silliest mousmè in all Japan. She jus’ lovely, mos’ sweet beautiful girl in all the whole worl’. Jus’ like you, my lord.”

IX
THE MIKADO’S BIRTHDAY

The mellow summer was gone. With the dawn of the autumn the languor of the country seemed to increase. Now that the weather was cooler, however, they made frequent trips to the city, visiting the chrysanthemum shows, loitering through Uyeno park, the Shiba temples, and bazaars. And one day Jack shook gayly before her eyes a really awe-inspiring document. It was, in fact, an invitation, written in fine French, from a Japanese person of high rank, inviting him to attend a very important function, which was to be given at the Hôtel Imperial on the Mikado’s birthday, which function was to be honored by the presence of “les princes et les princesses.”

“We are going, of course,” he told her. “It will be a change, and, besides, I want to show you off to my friends. There’ll be hosts of them there, you know.”

But she protested. First she set forth as excuse the fact that she was only an honorably rude and insignificant humble geisha girl, who would be out of place in so great and extraordinary an assemblage.