A trifling toss of his head showed his satisfaction in my name. I thought he was trying to set me at ease with his smile.
“Gokigen ikaga?”
“I feel splendidly, thank you, Mr. Parrot!” I said.
Then pressing his head backward he looked haughtily at me with fixed eyes, and announced:
“Nihonjin desu.”
“I’m also a Jap,” I muttered.
He was the most profound Japanese scholar, Mrs. Schuyler said, in all Los Angeles. Mr. Schuyler Jr. brought him from Kobe last spring.
I told her the incident of this morning.
She laughed, she said she expected it.
Bad Mother Schuyler!