The girls were amazed at the beauty of the garden back of the house.
Against the high wall surrounding the small estate clustered masses of
flowers. Everywhere were little winding paths and an occasional grove of
stunted pines that gave the impression of great age. It was in exquisite
order, the green turf clipped to the smoothness of a velvet carpet. In
all the garden there was not a leaf nor twig out of place. Back of the
house the land sloped slightly and at the foot of this gentle depression
trickled a musical little stream. Here was a stone lantern five feet
high, also the miniature curved bridge; and to make the picture complete
in every Japanese detail, leaning pensively on the railing of the bridge,
stood Onoye. She herself might have been a bright colored flower in her
gay kimono and sash.

Only Mary noticed that the little Japanese was weeping softly. When she
saw the Americans coming, she hastily withdrew down one of the paths and
in another moment had disappeared entirely.

"Poor little thing," thought Mary, "perhaps her mother has been scolding
her."

Perhaps she had, indeed, for O'Haru, the housekeeper, presently appeared
looking for her daughter. Shading her eyes with one hand, she scanned the
vistas of the garden.

Mary left the group of friends and hastened down the path.

"Are you looking for Onoye?" she asked the old woman.

"Yes, honorable lady," answered O'Haru, trying to replace her uneasy and
troubled expression with a pleasant smile.