“I stay ad Japan,” she said.

“Stay at Japan!” The manager barely controlled himself. “Why, you can never get rich in this land. Now look-a-here—I’ll call and see you to-morrow. Where do you live?”

“I don’ want you call. I stay ad Japan.”

This time the manager, seeing a possible fortune escaping him, and having in mind the courtesy due the heathen, delivered himself of a large Christian oath. “If you stay here, you’re a fool. You’ll never—”

The young man named Bigelow, who had watched the attempted bargaining in silence, broke in with some indignation. “Oh, let her go! She’s got a right to do as she pleases, you know. Don’t try to bully her into going to America if she’d rather stay here.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t use force to make her take a good thing,” said the manager, ungraciously. He drew out his card-case and handed the girl his card. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind after you think about this a bit. If you do, my name and Tokyo address are on that card; just come round and see me. I’m going down to Bombay to look out for some Indian jugglers. I’ll be gone about five months, and will be back in Tokyo before I start out on another trip to China, Corea, and the Philippines, and then off for home.”

The girl took the card and listened in silence; when he finished, she courtesied, slipped a hand into that of her companion, and hurried down the narrow road.

After the two Americans had made their way back to the tea-garden, the older one at once sought out the proprietor.

“You know something about that girl. Come, tell us,” he said, imperiously.

The proprietor was profusely courteous, but hesitated to speak of the one who had danced and sung. Finally he unbent grudgingly. He told the theatrical man and his companion that he knew next to nothing about her. She had come to him a stranger, and had offered her services. She refused to enter into the usual contract demanded of most geishas, and in view of her talents he could not afford to lose her. She was attracting large crowds to his gardens by her strange dances. Still he disliked and mistrusted her. She came only when it suited her whim, and on fêtes and occasions of this kind he had no means of knowing where she was. It was only by accident she had happened in this evening. Once he had attempted to follow her, but she had discovered him, and made him promise never to do such a thing again, threatening to stay away altogether if he did so. He spoke disparagingly of her: