“There are six of them at the gates, not to count the servants and runners down the road!”
Moonlight looked at her incredulously, and Omi nodded her head with vigor.
“It is so. I counted each augustness.” She began enumerating upon her fingers. “There was the high-up Count Takedo Isami, Takedo Sachi, Takedo—there were four Takedos. Then the Lord Saito Takamura Ichigo, Saito—”
“Do not enumerate them, Omi. Tell me instead how you came, in spite of the watchful ones, in spite, too, of Matsuda, to reach his lordship.”
As she spoke the last word reverently, a flush deepened in her cheeks and her eyes shone upon the apprentice with such a lovely light that the adoring little girl cried out sharply:
“It is true, Moonlight-san! Thou art lovelier than Ama-terasu-o-mi-kami!”
“Hush, foolish one, that is blasphemy. Indeed I should be very unhappy did I outshine the august lady of the sun in beauty. But no more digressions. If you do not tell me—and tell me at once—exactly what happened—how you reached the side of his lordship—how he looked—just how! What was said—the very words—how he spoke—acted. Did he smile, or was he sad, Omi? Tell me—tell me, please!” She ended coaxingly; but, as the pert little apprentice merely smiled tantalizingly, she added, very severely:
“It may be I will look about for a new understudy. There is Ochika—”
At the mention of her rival’s name Omi made a scornful grimace, but she answered quickly:
“The Okusama helped me. She pretended an illness. Matsuda was afraid, and remained by her side, chafing her hands and her head.” She laughed maliciously, and continued: “I slipped out by the bamboo-hedge gate. Omatsu saw me—” At the look of alarm on the Spider’s face: “Pooh! what does it matter? Every servant in the house—ah! and the maids and apprentices—yes, and the most honorable geishas too—know the secret, and they wish you well, sweet mistress!”