courtesies.

"Good-by, little snow-girl," he said. "I'll never forget Japan, nor
you."

She withdrew her hand and looked inquiringly up at him.

"Some long time you come back?"

Merrit climbed into the jinrikisha "No, Yuki San, you know I'll soon
have a little home of my own to work and care for. I'll be a busy man
for the next few years, so I guess I'll not come back."

As in a dream, Yuki San saw the men adjust their hats and tighten
their sashes as they took their places in front of the small vehicle.
Mechanically she bowed her farewell with the rest of the family, but
she did not join their "Sayonara."

She watched the swift moving of the jinrikisha wheels, then she saw
Merrit turn at the gate and wave his hat as he joyously called:

"Good-by, Yuki San, God bless you!"

The girl stood still, her eyes on the empty gate. Like a lonely, hurt
child her lip quivered, and she caught it between her teeth to steady
it.

"Ah, Yuki," cried her mother, "some spirit has wished you harm. A drop
of blood rests on your lips."