with her visits to the mission-school and a certain oblong box out of
which came sticks of red and white with a very sweet taste. Now, as
she said them, a new meaning seemed to play about them.

She slipped through the gate and walked with unhurried feet toward the
small house, so gay in its festal plumage. As she passed the old
plum-tree she looked up and saw the mother bird cuddling her babies
beneath her breast.

Some tender thought lighted the child's face into a strange beauty, as
a stray sunbeam finds a hidden flower and glorifies it. Turning her
face upward to the nest, she patted her own cheek and said: "Be goodu,
Yuki, be goodu."




CHAPTER II


In the springtime a Japanese house is a fairy-like thing, with only
top and bottom of straw and a few upholding posts to give it a look of
substance.

Yuki Chan's house was typical. The paper screens were carefully put
away during the day, that the breezes might play unobstructed through
the house. At night the heavy wooden doors were fitted into grooves
and served not only to keep out the night air, but also the evil
spirits that come abroad when the great sun ceases watching.