bargain.

But the girl drew back, troubled.

"No, no, you no _go_! You stay. I give you all my intellect of Nippon
speech. Please!" and she looked up pleadingly.

Merrit laughed outright.

"That's all right, Yuki San; I am going to stay, and we will begin
school in the morning."

By this time the mother and father had learned of the guest's arrival
and hurried in to bid him welcome. The unpacking of his steamer-trunk
and the disposal of his possessions in his small apartment was a
matter of interest to the whole family. Each article was politely
examined and exclaimed over, and when Merrit drew out a package of
photographs and showed them his home and family and friends, the
excitement became intense.

That night Yuki San lay once more on her soft _futon_ and watched the
shadow of the night-lamp play upon the screens. Nothing was changed in
the homely room since she had lain there in her babyhood: the same
little lamp, the same little Buddha on the shelf looking at her with
inscrutable eyes.

Yuki San stirred restlessly. "Dat most nice girl in picture," she said
to herself. "Him make marry with dat girl, he say." Then she added
inconsequently, with a sigh, "I much hope Saito San go to war for
long, long time."