I thought my performance of the first interview with Meriken woman was excellent. But my rehearsal at home was useless.
26th—I lost my little charm.
It worried me awfully.
It was given me by my old-fashioned mother. She got it after a holy journey of one month to the shrine of Tenno Sama.
I should be safe, Mother said, from water, fire and highwayman (what else, God only knows) as long as I should carry it.
I sought after it everywhere. I begged my uncle to let me examine his trunk.
“Cast off an ancient superstition!” Uncle scorned.
I sat languidly on the large armchair which almost swallowed my small body.
I imagined many a punishment already inflicted on me.
The tick-tack of my watch from my waist encouraged my nervousness.