Arriving in San Francisco, Ito found work on a railroad, digging a tunnel which the company had ordered made. He lived in a large apartment house which the company furnished its working men—all Japanese, who, like himself, had come to the promised land to make their fortunes.
Accustomed to low wages in their own country, they live accordingly. Coming to America, with its higher wages, they keep their old methods of living and save money. It was not surprising, then, that at the end of two years Ito had nearly a thousand dollars in the bank. By careful investments at the end of the third he was the owner of a sum which would accredit him a rich man should he go back to Japan. Should he go back to Japan, or should he remain in America and have his wife come to him? Letters had been but few between them, as Hatsu could neither read nor write. When he “turned in” at night, the last question which flashed through his brain was, “Shall I go back to Japan?” and the first question which greeted him on his awakening was, “Shall I send for my wife?”
When he had decided finally to do the former, go back to Japan, his foreman came to him and said: “Ito, my boss section man sick; go back to Japan. I give you the job; raise you five dollars.”
After hearing this he resolved to stay, and wrote a letter to his wife that night, telling her to come to him. He would mail her a bank note in the morning. Then they would be together, and the old times and scenes would be reacted.
Bright and early did he rise the next morning, for he had important work to do. As he walked to the bank where he had his savings, a countrywoman of his passed, and, bowing, asked to be directed to a certain street. Ito directed her. Long did he gaze after her, and not until a policeman had told him to “move on” did he leave the spot.
“What a beautiful woman,” he muttered. By the way which the young woman arranged her hair Ito knew that she was unmarried. A wild thought flashed through his brain; why not try to get this young woman for his wife? He had forgotten the faithful and patient Hatsu, forgotten the little baby which he had never seen, forgotten everything connected with his past life, save that he had fallen in love with this beauty. So the money remained in the bank, and the letter was destroyed.
By degrees Ito became acquainted with the beauty. Soon, from a mere acquaintance, a warm friendship sprang up between the two, and finally this friendship ripened into love, and one day Ito announced to his comrades that he was to be married. They congratulated him warmly when they saw his wife, and Ito thought himself a fortunate man.
“It is strange, my pet,” said Hatsu one morning, “it is strange that your father has not written to us. It has been nearly two years since we last heard from him. He said that three years at the most would be enough to earn money to send for us. And now it is nearly five. I wonder if—no, I will not think such a thing of the most noble Ito.”