“Do you not fear the sun upon your child’s young eyes will blind them?”
His words had the desired effect. She started and put back her hands behind her head. Then, somewhat unsteadily, she arose.
“You will pardon us, if you please,” she said. “We must go into the interior.”
Okido had hoped to be invited to enter, but her answer did not disconcert him. He went up the little steps, and stretched out his hand as if to assist her. Madame was too weak to walk alone; would she not permit his most respectful assistance? She clung for support to the front of the sliding door.
“Yes,” she said, “I am still augustly weak. So pray you, good-bye, kind visitor.”
He bowed deeply to her, and then:
“Madame Azalea, permit me first to leave in your house a little gift for your man child.”
She let him put into her hands a child’s tiny toy.
“You are very good,” she said.
“It is not I who am so well disposed toward your child,” he said, “but one whose interest in it is such that he would give all his possessions to it—if you would permit it.”