The kittens were almost sorry, that their grandma had called in this lawyer; for he instantly began a long dissertation on the cats of China, Korea and Japan, quoting from the historians and law books. He told how, gradually, [[143]]the cats, when they multiplied to millions, in the islands of Japan, got a bad reputation. In fact, all sorts of evil stories were told, and proverbs coined, and uncomplimentary expressions used concerning them. To tell the full truth, however, out of so many, some cats were really bad. It had even, of late years, become common to use cat skins to make banjos and guitars. That is the reason why the singing and dancing girls, or geishas (gay-shas in Tokyo, and gei-ko in Kyoto) were usually called “cats” in fun.
Then he went on to explain why there was a cat on every Japanese boat, or ship, as one could usually see—for in port, puss poked her head out of the windows to note what was going on. Of course, the seamen preferred a cat of three colors. For, although, as we say, a cat has nine lives, the Japanese sailors think Puss has at least three. He even went on to explain why ancient poetry referred so often to the flowers of the valerian plant, but so rarely mentioned them, in modern days. It was all because there were no cats in Japan in those early times, though so numerous now.
Kichibei, the lawyer, was going to tell more, but Grandma said “ippai” (ip-pi) and “mo yoroshi” (mo yo-ro-shee)—intimating that he had said enough, and thanked him. For the long talk of Kichibei had got to be so tiresome, [[144]]that several of the kittens had fallen asleep, before he was more than half through.
Finally, when he ended and went off, Grandma thought it was time to go to bed. For these kitties were too young to go outdoors at night, like grown-up cats.
“Oh, but you promised to tell us about our Aunt Geiko.”
Now the way all those kittens woke up at once, to listen, showed that they would soon make the liveliest kind of roof scramblers, night prowlers, and street warblers; or be otherwise fitted for nocturnal accomplishments, just like their ancestors; and, all this, without being taught.
The lights having been put out, and all sitting in a ring, Grandma Guitar began. At once, it seemed as if fourteen little round balls of fire were glowing in the room; for each one of the cat’s eyes had widened from a slit, or long crack, to a circular window. In fact, they could all plainly see each other, even in the dark.
“Well, my grandchildren,” began the old lady cat, “you know that my daughter, your aunt Geiko, though born in the Blossom Capital, was the pet of a Belgian lady; and that both of them lived in Kobé, when they were in our country. They sailed away, a year ago, and, after a six weeks’ voyage, arrived safely at her home at the little village of Gingelhom in Limburg.” [[145]]
“But, alas,” and here Grandma Guitar pulled out a Japanese paper handkerchief, from under her collar, and wept real cat tears. On seeing this, all the kittens cried in sympathy, and some meouwed pitifully.
Grandma Guitar was so overcome by her feelings, that she could proceed no further. So, from this point on, we shall tell, in our way, the story of what happened to Miss Puss Geiko, in Belgium, from what Grandma Guitar related to the kittens the next evening.