It was unfortunate that Taro could not have accompanied his friend, for, while the latter was not a weak character, he was easy-going, good-natured, and easily manipulated through his feelings.

The young Japanese, had he done nothing else, at least would have kept the nakodas and their offerings of matrimonial happiness on the other side of the American’s doors. As it was, one of them in particular was so picturesque in appearance, quaint in speech, and persistent in his calls, that the young man had encouraged his visits, until a certain jocular intimacy put their relations with each other on a pleasant and familiar footing.

It was this nakoda (Ido was his name, so he told Jack) who brought an applicant for a husband to his house, one day, and besought him at least to hold a look-at meeting with her.

“She is beautiful like unto the sun-goddess,” he declared, with the extravagance of his class.

“The last was like the moon,” said the young man, laughing. “Have you any stars to trot out?”

“Stars!” echoed the other, for a moment puzzled, and then, beaming with delighted enlightenment, “Ah, yes—her eyes, her feet, hair, hands, twinkling like unto them same stars! She prays for just a look-at meeting with your excellency.”

“Well, for the fun of the thing, then,” said the other, laughing. “I’m sure I don’t mind having a look-at meeting with a pretty girl. Show her into the zashishi (guest-room) and I’ll be along in a moment. But, look here,” he continued, “you’d better understand that I’m only going through this ceremony for the fun of the thing, mind you. I don’t intend to marry any one—at all events, not a girl of that class.”

“Nod for a leetle while whicheven?” persuaded the nakoda.

“Nod for a leetle while whicheven,” echoed the young man, but the agent had disappeared.

When Jack, curious to know what she was like, she who was seeking him for a husband, entered the zashishi, he found the blinds high up and the sunshine pouring into the room. His eyes fell upon her at once, for the shoji at the back of the room was parted, and she stood in the opening, her head drooping bewitchingly. He could not see her face. She was quite small, though not so small as the average Japanese woman, and the two little hands, clasped before her, were the whitest, most irresistible and perfect hands he had ever seen. He had heard of the beauty of the hands of the Japanese women, and was not surprised to find even a girl of this class—she was a geisha, of course, he told himself—with such exquisite, delicate hands. He knew she was holding them so that they could be seen to advantage, and her little affected pose amused and pleased him.