"But," persisted Omassa, "you know him, or how could you speak his
name?"
"I learned the name from you, child, when you talked in the fever. I am
very sorry I have caused you a disappointment. I am to blame for my
curiosity--forgive me."
All the light faded from her face and very quietly she lay down upon her
pillow, her lips close-pressed, her eyes closed; but she could not hide
the shining of the tears that squeezed between her short, thick lashes
and clung to them. 'Twas long before his name was mentioned again; but
one day something had been said of friends, when Omassa with intense
pride had exclaimed:--"I have got my own self one friend--he--my friend
Frank."
"What's his other name?" asked the nurse.
"Oh, he very poor, he got only one name."
"But, dear, he must have another name, he is Frank somebody or
something."
"No! no!" persisted Omassa with gentle obstinacy, "he tell me always
true, he very poor, good man--he got only one name, my Frank Sen."
"There," cried Mrs. Holmes, triumphantly, "you see he _has_ two names
after all, you have just called him by them both--Frank Sen."
At which the invalid sent forth a tinkling laugh of amusement, crying:
"Oh, that not one man's name, oh, no! That Sen that like your Mr.--Mrs.;
you nurse-lady, you Holmes Sen. Ito--big Japan fight man, he Ito Sen,
you unnerstand me, nurse-lady?"
"Yes, child, I understand. Sen is a title, a term of respect, and you
like to show your friend Frank all the honour you can, so you call him
Frank Sen."
And Omassa with unconscious slanginess gravely answered: "You right _on_
to it at first try. My boss" (her manager Kimoto) "find _me_ baby in
Japan, with very bad old man. He gamble all time. I not know why he have
me, he not my old man, but he sell me for seven year to Kimoto, and
Kimoto teach me jump, turn, twist, climb, and he send my money all to
old man--_all_. We go Mexico--South America--many Islands--to German
land, and long time here in this most big America--and the world so
big--and then I so little Japan baby--I no play--I no sing--I know
nothing what to do--and just _one_ person in this big lonesome_ness_
make a kindness to me--my Frank Sen--just one man--just one woman in all
world make goodness to me--my Frank Sen and my nurse-lady," and she
stroked with reverent little fingers the white hand resting on the bed
beside her.
"What was he like, your Frank?" asked the nurse.
"Oh, he one big large American man--he not laugh many times loud, but he
laugh in he blue eye. He got brown mustache and he hair all short,
thick, wavy--like puppy dog's back. He poor--he not perform in circus,
oh, no! He work for put up tents, for wagon, for horses. He ver good man
for fight too--he smash man that hurt horse--he smash man that kick dog
or push me, Japan baby. Oh, he best man in all the world" (the exquisite
Madame Butterfly was not known yet, so Omassa was not quoting). "He tell
me I shall not say some words, 'damn' and 'hell' and others more long,
more bad, and he tell me all about that 'hell' and where is--and how you
get in for steal, for lie, for hurt things not so big as you--and how
you can't get out again where there is cool place for change--and he
smooth my hair and pat my shoulder, for he know Japan people don't ever
be kissed--and he call me one word I cannot know."
She shook her head regretfully. "He call me 'poor little wave'--why poor
little wave--wave that mean water?" she sighed. "I can't know why Frank
Sen call me that."
But quick-witted Mrs. Holmes guessed the word had been "waif"--poor
little waif, and she began dimly to comprehend the big-hearted, rough
tent-man, who had tried to guard this little foreign maid from the
ignorance and evil about her.
"But," resumed Omassa, with perfect conviction, "Frank Sen meaned
goodness for me when he called me 'wave'--I know _that_. What you think
that big American man do for help me little Japan baby--with no sense?
Well, I will tell you. When daylight circus-show over, he take me by
hand and lead me to shady place between tents--he sit down--put me at he
knee, and in what you call primer-book with he long brown finger he
point out and make me know all those big fat letters--yes, he do _that_.
Other mens make of him fun--and he only laugh; but when they say he my
father and say of me names, he lay down primer and fight. When he lay
out the whole deck, he come back and wash he hands and show me some more
letters. Oh, I very stupid Japan baby; but at last I know _all_, and
_then_ he harness some together and make d-o-g say dog, and n-o say no,
and so it come that one day next week was going to be his
fête-day,--what you call birsday,--and I make very big large secret."
She lifted herself excitedly in bed, her glowing eyes were on her
nurse's face, her lips trembled, the "lantern" was alight and glowing
radiantly.
"What you think I do for my Frank Sen's birsday? I have never one
penny,--I cannot buy,--but I make one big great try. I go to
circus-lady, that ride horse and jump hoops--she read like Frank Sen. I
ask her show me some right letters. Oh, I work hard--for I am very
stupid Japan child; but when that day come, Frank Sen he lead me to
shady place--he open primer--then," her whole face was quivering with
fun at the recollection, "then I take he long finger off--I put _my_
finger and I slow spell--not cat--not dog--oh, _what_ you think?--I
spell F-r-a-n-k--Frank! He look to me, and then he make a big jump--he
catch me--toss me, high up in air, and he shout big glad shout, and then
I say--'cause for your birsday.' He stop, he put me down, and he eyes
come wet, and he take my hand and he say: 'Thank you, that's the only
birsday gift I ever _re_ceived that was not from my mother. Spell it
again for me,' he said; and then he was very proud and said, 'there was
not any-other birsday gift like that in all the world!' What you think
of _that_?
"Then the end to season of circus come--Frank Sen he kneel down by
me--he very sad--he say, 'I have nothing to give--I am such a fool--and
the green-cloth--oh, the curse of the green-cloth!' He took off my Japan
slippers and smiled at them and said, 'Poor little feet'; he stroked my
hands and said, 'Poor little hands'; he lifted up my face and said,
'Poor little wave'; then he look up in air and he say, very
troubled-like, 'A few home memories--some small knowledge, all I had, I
have given her. To read a little is not much, but maybe it may help her
some day, and I have nothing more to give!'
"And I feeling something grow very fast, here and here" (touching throat
and breast), "and I say, '_You_ have nothing to give me? well'--and then
I forget all about I am little Japan girl, and I cry, 'Well, _I_ have
something to give you, Frank Sen, and that is one kiss!' And I put my
arms about he neck and make one big large kiss right on he kind lips."
Her chin sank upon her night-robed breast. After a moment she smiled
deprecatingly at Mrs. Holmes and whispered: "You forgive me, other day?
You see I Japan girl--and just once I give big American kiss to my
friend, Frank Sen."
_CHAPTER XXI