CHAPTER III


Twelve times had the plum-tree scattered its petals to the wind, and
Yuki San [Footnote: The honorific _Chan_, used only in childhood, is
changed to _San_ in later years.] had passed from childhood into
girlhood, and had already touched the border of that grave land
of grown-up, where all the worries lie. For though she was apparently
only a larger edition of the spoiled, impulsive happy child of old,
yet often her eyes were shadowed with the struggle of shielding her
aging father and mother from the poverty that was coming closer day by
day.

During the three years she had been gaining her education at the
English mission-school, they had toiled unceasingly that she might
have the best the country could afford, but now that she had returned
after her long struggle with a strange language and a strange people,
it was but fitting that she should take up her duties as the daughter
of an impoverished family of high rank. The father, grown old and
feeble, gave up the battle for existence, and being a devout Buddhist,
turned his thoughts upon Nirvana, which he strove diligently to enter
by perpetual meditation and prayer. The mother, used to guidance and
unable to think or plan for herself, turned helplessly to Yuki San.

The duties were heavy for girlish shoulders, and often as the dawn
crept over the mountains it found the girl wide-eyed and still, trying
to solve the problem of modest demand and meager supply.

She had learned many things at the mission-school. She could read and
write English imperfectly, she could recite the multiplication table