Okada bowed low--as low as the rules of Japanese etiquette prescribe,
which is to say that he bent himself almost double. At the same time,
he lifted his hat. Then he bowed again twice, and, with a pleasing
smile proffered his hand. Mrs. Parker took it and shook it with hearty
good will.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Okada," she shrilled. "Murray," she added,
turning to the butler, who was approaching with Okada's suitcase, "show
the gentleman to the room with the big bed in it. Dinner will be ready
at six, Mr. Okada. Please do not bother to dress for dinner. We're
quite informal here."

"Sank you very much," he replied, with an unpleasant whistling intake
of breath; with another profound bow to the ladies, he turned and
followed Murray to his room.

"Well, John," Mrs. Parker demanded, as the Japanese disappeared, "your
little playmate's quite like a mechanical toy. For heaven's sake,
where did you pal up with him?"

"That's the potato baron of the San Joaquin valley, Kate," he informed
her. "I'm trying to interest him in a colonization scheme for his
countrymen. A thousand Japs in the San Gregorio can raise enough
garden-truck to feed the city of Los Angeles--and they will pay a
whooping price for good land with water on it. So I brought him along
for a preliminary survey of the deal."

"He's very polite, but I imagine he's not very brilliant company," his
wife averred frankly. "When you wired me you were bringing a guest, I
did hope you'd bring some jolly young jackanapes to arouse Kay and me."