“Pah!” snapped the boy. “No, certainly, and we do not wish to see her. We do not like such bold intrusion.”
“Nay, son,” she reproved, “we must not so regard it. Let us remember the words of the good master, the august missionary.”
“What words?” inquired Koma, tartly. “Why, his excellency does not even know of the coming of the woman, since he is gone three days from Sendai now.”
“Ah, but my son, do you not remember that he taught us to treat with kindness the stranger within our gates?”
Koma made a sound of disapproval, his little, ill-tempered face puckered in a frown. After a moment he inquired again:
“But where is the woman, mother?”
Aoi regarded her small son almost apologetically.
“She is within our humble house,” she replied.
Koma pulled his hand from hers with a jerk. For a time he walked beside her in silence. He was strangely old for his years, and already he showed the inheritance of his father’s pride.
“Mother,” he said, “we do not wish the stranger to disturb our home. My father would not have permitted it. We are happy alone together. What do we want with this woman stranger?”