“The sensei is ignorant. The sun is generous. He scatters his gifts all over the world.”
“But he favors Nippon.”
“Yes,” he repeated, “he favors Nippon—all nature does so.”
“And that America is cold.”
“It has its summers, little one.”
“Look,” she said; “see, there is a little white fox on the hill there. It is looking at us. Ah, it is gone!”
“That is a good omen, is it not?” said Koma, smiling.
“Oh, surely. The foxes are sacred. Every one believes so except the mission-house people.”
“We do not belong to the mission-house. We will believe so.”
“How cheerful you are, Koma. You are not sorry to see me go?”