refused the request, on the ground that Kiku was too young, being then
but fifteen years old. The truth was, that the Wakasa samurai was a wild
young fellow, and bore a reputation for riotous living that did not
promise to make him a proper life-companion for Nakayama's refined and
cultured daughter. Between Nakayama, Kiku's father, and Yamashiro, the
retainer of the Echizen clan, whose home we spoke of in the opening of
our sketch, had long existed a warm friendship and a mutual high regard.
Yamashiro, though more fond of society and good living than Nakayama,
was nevertheless, like him, a high-spirited and well-read man. He had
four children, two sons and two daughters. The oldest son, named Taro,
was now twenty years old, of manly figure, diligent in study, and had
lately acted as a high page, attending daily upon the person of
Hitotsu-bashi, the then reigning Shô-gun, and the last of his line that
held or will hold regal power in Japan. Taro, being the oldest son of
his father, was the heir to his house, office, rank and revenue. Taro
wanted a wife. He wished to taste the sweets of love and wedded joy. He
had long thought of Kiku. Of course he asked his father, and his father
"was willing." He told Taro to go to Nakayama's house. Taro went. He
talked to Nakayama, and hinted faint compliments of his daughter. It was
enough. Nakayama was keen of scent, and he also "was willing." Clapping
his hands, the maid-servant appeared and falling down and bowing her
head to the floor, listened: "Make some tea, and tell Miss Kiku to serve
it."

Had you been in the back rooms of that house, you would have seen Kiku
blush as the maid told her who was in the front room and what her father
had said. Her heart beat furiously, and the carnation of health upon her
cheeks was lost in the hot blushes that mantled her face and beautiful
neck when her mother, reproving her, said, "Why, dear child, don't be
excited: perhaps he has come only on some every-day business, after all.