Without pausing for a reply, she pushed open a door and called in
Japanese to her father and mother, who never made their appearance
till Merrit's breakfast was finished.

"Come, make ready to give our guest an honorable departure," she said.

In the small courtyard facing the street the girl found the men, with
their jinrikishas and baggage-wagon, waiting to convey Merrit to the
station. She carefully directed the tying on of the various trunks and
bags, and placed the family just where they should stand that the
greatest honor might be done the departing guest.

As Merrit came out of the little house and reached for his shoes,
which stood waiting at the side, Yuki San started toward him, eager to
serve him to the last. Merrit motioned her back.

"Don't come too near, Yuki San. If you happened to fall into one of
those shoes, you'd be lost for ever and ever, and that big Mr. Saito
would be inviting me to cut off my head."

Yuki San laughed and smoothed the cushions in the jinrikisha while she
gave minute directions to the jinrikisha men.

Merrit made his adieu with high good humor, and so many big words that
Yuki San was hard pressed to interpret. He invited the family and all
their relatives to come to see him in America. When he reached Yuki
San he held out his hand. Made shy by the unusual ceremony, she
timidly laid a cold and unresponsive little palm in his. He looked
down from his height with tender memories of all her gentle