"They look as if they were going to play a joke on us," observed Billie,
"Did you ever see anything so guileless and simple-hearted as they are?"

"Oh, I know what it is," cried Mary, clasping her hands with delight.
"There," she said, pointing to the old gardener, who was approaching by
way of one of the paths. There was an inimitable smile on his face, and
he carried tenderly and gingerly a double handful of brown branches on
which clustered delicate pink blossoms.

"It's the cherry blossoms! They are in bloom!" Mary shouted in her
enthusiasm. "That's why they are all so delighted. The dears! They are
just like a lot of children."

The crown of the year for the Japanese had indeed arrived, the season
when every cherry tree becomes a magnificent nosegay which has caught the
sunset's glow, and all the world goes forth to view the splendid sight.

The love of these people, young and old and of all classes, for flowers,
and particularly for cherry blossoms, is touching in its simplicity and
sincerity.

The old gardener was himself a delightful picture in his blue cotton,
tunic-like coat, queer, tight-fitting trousers and an enormous hat that
resembled an inverted flower basket. Against the coarse blue of his tunic
rested the delicate rosy cloud of blossoms. With an elaborate bow he
presented Mr. Campbell and each of the ladies with a branch. "Him muchly
more big soon all same," he said.

"Thank you, Saiki. They are very beautiful," said Miss Campbell, speaking