Japanese gentleman who had been educated and who had married abroad,
and a close friend of her father's. As she reached the door of the
Professor's bungalow, she pushed the bell, and sank exhausted upon
the stoop.

Some time afterward she half-dreamed and half realized that she
found herself neatly tucked between white silk sheets and lying on a
floor mattress of a Japanese sleeping-porch. A gentle breeze fanned
her face through the lattice work and low slanting sunbeams sifting
in between the shutters fell in rounded blotches upon the opposite
straw matting wall. For a time she lay musing and again fell asleep.

When she next awakened, the room was dimly lighted by a little
glowing electric bulb and Madame Oshima was sitting near her. Her
hostess greeted her cordially and offered her water and some fresh
fruit.

Madame Oshima was fully posted upon the riots and confirmed Ethel's
fears as to the fate of her father.

[Illustration: "But have I lost my figure?" inquired the lithe
Madame Oshima.]

"You will be safe here for the present," her hostess assured her.
"Professor Oshima has been called to Tokio; when he returns we will
see what can be done concerning your embarking for America."

Madame Oshima was of French descent but had fully adopted Japanese
customs and ways of thinking.