A PROSPECTIVE SERVANT
Although Jack's escapade was the talk of the hour, the excitement it
brought died away in a day or two, while Jean's experiences continued
to be discussed for a longer time. Every now and then would crop up
something funny or, at least, interesting, which she had to tell about.
"I found out why the people here make such a noise in that piggy way
when they eat," she told her family. "It is to show appreciation of
your food. It is particularly desirable to do it when you are dining
out, the more succulent the sound the more polite."
"Oh, Jean," protested Mary Lee.
"It is a fact, really it is. Ko-yeda told me and I noticed it myself."
"Let's all do that way the next time we go over to Jo's," proposed
Jack. "She won't know what to make of it, but after a while we will
tell her it is a custom we learned in Japan."
The girls laughed and agreed to try it. "Poor old Jo," said Jean. "She
is out of it this time. I really miss her once in a while. She has
always been around when we were having our good times."
"Don't you believe but that she would a thousand times rather be where
she is." Nan spoke with conviction.
"I wonder if I shall feel like that ever," said Jack thoughtfully. "I
can't imagine myself so devoted to a husband as Jo is to Dr. Paul."
"I wouldn't trust you," returned Jean. "You will quite as likely outdo
her in your abject devotion."
"I hope I shall at least not be abject," retorted Jack stiffly. "That
is one thing I shall not care to learn from the Japanese."
"Is Mrs. Sannomiya abject?" inquired Eleanor.
"Well, she is a little bit, but I have seen American women with big
bullies of husbands quite as much so," Jean replied. "Not that Mr.
Sannomiya is a bully, far from it, but I suppose it is the Japanese
woman's prerogative to be humble as it is the man's to be lordly.
The girls are all trained from the beginning to be meek and gentle,
to exercise self-control under all circumstances, to smile and be
agreeable no matter how mad they feel inside."
"Humph!" ejaculated Jack. "I'd like to see me."
"You would have to if you were a Japanese," insisted Jean.
"I think we will leave Jack here for a year in a Japanese household,"
remarked Mary Lee.
Jack made a face at her. "I'd run away," she said.
"Where?" said Mary Lee teasingly.
"Oh, I would throw myself upon the mercies of the American legation and
get the chief to let me marry one of his nice attachés," returned Jack.
Mary Lee did not pursue the subject, but turned to Jean to ask, "Does
Ko-yeda do anything about the house?"
"Oh, yes, though there isn't so very much to do; not near so much as in
our homes. She always serves tea when there is extra company, and when
her father has a particular guest she waits on them, not because there
are no servants nor because they don't know how, but because it is
considered the thing to serve the two, or three, or whatever number of
men with their meal separately, and it is more hospitable and courteous
to have it served by one of the ladies of the family."
"That is something the way they do in provincial districts at home,"
remarked Nan.
"What do the maids do?" inquired Mary Lee.
"Oh, they roll up the beds and store them away for the day in the
closets, take down the mosquito nets, sweep and dust the rooms, wash
the porches, and the dishes, maybe. The market people come with baskets
to the door sometimes. Ko-yeda or her mother or grandmother used to go
to the go-down and select what was to be the decoration for the day and
one of them spent a long time arranging the flower vases. Then there
always seemed to be some kimonos or something to be ripped up or dyed,
for they use them over and over while there is anything left of them,
and whenever they are washed they must be taken apart."
"Again like the primitive methods of our grandmothers and our thrifty
New England women," said Nan.
"Just what class do the Sannomiyas belong to?" asked Mary Lee.
"I think that they must have been in the _daimio_ class," Jean told
her, "for they showed me some wonderful embroidered robes that had been
in the family for years. I asked Ko-yeda why she didn't wear them, and
she said that there was no class distinction nowadays, that the castles
were done away with, for Japan is quite democratic."
"What has that to do with the robes?" asked Jack.
"The handsome embroidered robes were worn only by nobility," Jean told
her. "The _daimios_ were proud as Lucifer and their establishments in
their castles must have been very much like those we read of in old
feudal times. I believe there are still very exclusive households who
keep up many of the old traditions."
"And the _samurai_ class?" interrogated Nan.
"They were the military who had their special lords, and served them
and the Shogun to the death. They were what we might call retainers,
and they were the class between the upper nobility and the common
people."
"And what were the _ronin_? Don't you know we are always hearing that
tale of the 'Forty-seven Ronin'?"
"They were the masterless _samurai_, who wandered about, owing no
special allegiance to any master."
"Oh, I see. This is all very interesting," declared Nan. "You certainly
have learned something from your stay with the Sannomiyas, Jean. Tell
us some more. What about the classes below the _samurai_, the common
people, 'po' white trash' as it were?"
"So far as I could learn, the peasant class are called either _eta_
or _heimin_, though it seems to me that the _eta_ is lower than the
_heimin_, for they are the ones who are considered very unclean, as
they slaughter animals, tan skins, and are sometimes beggars."
"But tanners are quite respectable persons at home," put in Jack.
"They are not so here, for the having something to do with dead animals
puts them quite without the pale. The _samurai_ would be disgraced
if he married into an _eta_ family and would be considered an _eta_
himself, although they maintain that there is no such thing as any
difference in class nowadays. Mr. Sannomiya told me, through Ko-yeda
as an interpreter, that the _samurai_ despised trade and all that. The
merchant class is considered, or used to be so, below the farmers; in
fact they were not up to the mechanics, and were very low down in the
social scale. That partly explains why there is so much talk of the
dishonesty of tradespeople in Japan; it is the lower class who carry
on the shops and all that, or so it was. The _samurai_ try to keep to
the professions and such employments, for it was formerly thought very
low down indeed to barter in any way. All this is passing away, Mr.
Sannomiya says, and many of the _samurai_ are going into mercantile
life, adopting Western standards and trying to establish a reputation
for honest dealing which the merchant class have not always had."
"Did you make any dreadful mistakes?" inquired Jack.
"No, I don't think so. I wasn't quite as bad as the lady who wanted
onions for dinner and told the cook to serve up a Shinto priest. The
two words are almost the same, only one has a very different meaning
from the other. The worst thing I did was to sit in front of the
tokonoma when I went in. It was like planting yourself at the right
hand of your host without being asked."
"How did you find out it was not the thing to do?" asked Mary Lee.
"I begged Ko-yeda to tell me if I had made any mistake. She was
overcome with confusion at the idea of saying anything to the discredit
of a guest, but I just insisted and she told me that."
"It was like Nan's taking her seat on the sofa in Germany," remarked
Jack.
"Just about the same thing," Jean answered. "I imagine that American
free and easy manners often shock the Japanese. Ko-yeda says that when
she first came to Rayner Hall she was overwhelmed by the rudeness of
American girls, and I can well believe it when you consider her point
of view. I think you can set it down as a safe rule that it is well to
apologize to a Japanese for anything and everything, that is, if you
are using their language."
"Dear me," Jack sighed, "I suppose I have said dreadful things when I
have tried to speak the language."
"I haven't a doubt of it," Jean was ready to agree. "When you are
speaking of doing anything yourself you must say 'I humbly do thus
and so,' but when you speak of another's doing the same thing you
must say they do it honorably. If you give a present it is poor and
insignificant, but if you accept the same thing it at once becomes
magnificent."
"Well, I don't see how a foreigner ever learns," said Jack. "I shall
never become a missionary or a teacher or anything that leads me to
study the language."
"They insisted upon my entering the bath first," Jean went on, "and I
soon saw that it would be very much out of place if I didn't. It may be
the family all used the same water; I didn't inquire; I only know that
it is the custom, the servants coming last, and they all do it in the
frankest way. At the Sannomiyas' they were quite as particular as we
would be, but I know it is not always so. The Sannomiyas are becoming
quite Americanized. I am sure Ko-yeda has been teaching them our
manners and morals. She thinks she may become a teacher; it was with
that idea they sent her to us to be educated, but I have a notion that
she will marry, though she said she meant to keep on with her studies
here."
"Don't you wish she would have a wedding while we are here so we could
see how it is done?" said Jack.
"I don't imagine it would be very different from our own ceremony,"
Jean rejoined, "for you know they are a Christian family, and her
father says she shall marry none but a Christian. He is devoted to
her and thinks we treat our women so well that she must have the same
consideration."
"I am glad he thinks that," said Jack heartily.
This ended the conversation for the moment, for Nan, who had been
looking up the attractions, announced that they must certainly see Lake
Biwa. "It is the largest," she said, looking up from her guide-book,
"and must be very beautiful."
"I heard some interesting things of Fuji," said Jean. "A beautiful
goddess is supposed to make her home there. She has such a pretty name,
'The Princess who makes the Trees to Blossom.' I think a great many
people think that the mythological stories are wicked because they are
those of a false religion, but I really don't think that they ought to
be frowned upon any more than those of the Greek heroes."
"I suppose," said Nan reflectively, "that the reason some persons
condemn them is because the temples and the old rites are still
present, while the Greek ones are a thing of the past."
"Well, they certainly can't hurt us," declared Jack, "and I want to
hear them all."
"If you were to do that you would spend most of your time listening,
for their name is legion," Jean told her. "I think they are perfectly
fascinating, and so are the rites, and many things the people still do.
I don't see why we shouldn't study all these things as curiosities, not
as a religion."
The rest quite agreed with her and as Nan began to hurry them off, they
went to get ready for their trip to Lake Biwa.
This, however, was interrupted in a manner entirely unlooked for. It
was decided to take _jinrikishas_, as the country through which they
would go was exceedingly lovely and they could enjoy the journey quite
as much as the final view of the great lake. Past palaces and temples,
long rows of gray-roofed houses, gay shops, parks and gardens they
were carried to where the high hills arose above them on each side. In
this warm weather and beyond the limits of the big city, little naked
babies, and larger children scarcely clad, rolled about in play in the
village streets through which they went. Jack and Nan were in the
first _jinrikisha_, behind them came Jean and Miss Helen, while Mary
Lee and Eleanor occupied the third. Mrs. Corner had decided to stay
at home being rather afraid of the heat. Generally when the runners
gave their call of "Hi! Hi!" the little ones scattered but there was
one little youngster who, if hearing, did not heed and was bowled over
completely, directly in the path of the runners. These stopped short
nearly upsetting Jack and Nan who looked out to see what was the matter.
"What in the world are they jabbering about?" asked Jack looking out.
"We seem to have stirred up the community, for, see, the people are
coming running."
"We'd better get out," decided Nan, "and see what is wrong."
They suited the action to the word and presently found themselves
on the edge of a group where there was much talk and gesticulating
going on. The two tall girls could easily see over the heads of the
nearest bystanders and discovered that the centre of interest was
a small chubby little lad whose plump brown body bore evidences of
having been hurt in some way, for blood was streaming from his head
and he was quite limp and helpless. A woman was kneeling on the ground
holding him while the coolie who had been the unfortunate cause of the
accident was squatting near looking most unhappy.
"Oh, dear," cried Jack, "the poor little tot is hurt." She pushed
through the crowd and reached the child. "What is the matter?" she
asked the runner who knew a few words of English. But his vocabulary
was not equal to the occasion and Jack could learn but little. However
she made out that the child was hurt, and when the man took him in his
arms to carry him to the nearest little cottage, she followed with the
rest.
By this time the occupants of the other _jinrikishas_ had alighted and,
as one of their runners knew more English than the rest, they were able
to get at facts. The little boy had been knocked down, had hit his head
against a stone, was slightly stunned but was recovering.
"Where are his parents?" Jack inquired.
"He have none, honorable lady," replied the man addressed, who was the
runner speaking English.
"Poor little rabbit!" exclaimed Jack compassionately. She stooped to
pick up the little fellow and to set him on her knee where he sat
looking at her unblinkingly with his queer little slits of eyes.
Whether it was surprise or fear which made him so still she could not
tell. She smiled down at him, but not a quiver passed over the little
face. Jack took a coin from her purse and put it in his chubby fingers
but he only looked at it gravely and made no response.
"He is like a graven image," remarked Jean who stood by. "Did you ever
know such immovable gravity?" Presently Mary Lee who wore some flowers
in her belt drew them forth and held them out to the little fellow, and
then he smiled.
Jack gave him an ecstatic hug. "Isn't he the cunningest ever?" she
cried. "I wish we could take him home. I would so love to have him."
"Oh, Jack, what an idea!" exclaimed Jean. "What in the world would you
do with him?"
"I'd train him to be a cracker-jack of a servant and when I am married,
I would take him into the house and he could live with me always."
"I never heard such nonsense," returned Jean. "I think he is all right.
We must go on or we will never get to the lake."
Jack was very unwilling to give up her little brown boy, but knew that
she could not keep the entire party there any longer, so after seeking
out his proper guardian, who proved to be an aunt by marriage, they
gave her some money and went on their way. But all the beauties of the
lake and the mountains were of small interest compared to the little
naked child they had tumbled over on their way.
Jack talked of little else. She had a baby bee in her bonnet as Nan
expressed it and it was like her to become completely possessed with
the idea of taking him home, once she had decided that she wanted to.
"I am going to talk to mother about it," she declared, "and I am going
to hunt up Miss Gresham and get her to come out here again with me to
talk to the aunt. No doubt they would be only too glad to get rid of
him, for you see they are such a poor looking set of people. We upset
him and we ought to do something for him. Besides," she added after
using all other arguments, "we could do some missionary work and make a
Christian of him, so I am sure it would be worth while."
She was so in earnest that Nan did not laugh, but it was a habit of
Jack's to make her duty wait upon her desires, and Nan knew that the
missionary spirit was aroused for the occasion.
However, in some way or other Jack did get around her mother to a
degree sufficient for her to give consent to a second visit to the
village in Miss Gresham's company. Whether Jack had pictured the
child's condition as so pitiful as to arouse her mother's commiseration
or just how she had managed no one could exactly tell, but sufficient
to say that Jack and Miss Gresham did go a day or two after and to
the dismay of every one came back with the little lad, whose brown
nakedness was covered by clothes fitted to his estate. These Jack had
bought, with Miss Gresham's help, and the two had very much enjoyed
their mission.
Miss Gresham had a way with children and, knowing Japanese fairly well,
could manage the conversation without difficulty. She found that the
child had no special claim upon any one. Both his parents were dead.
His mother's sister had taken him but she, too, had died and those who
now cared for him were no blood relation, but were too charitable to
turn him away.
"Miss Gresham says she can keep him at the school as well as not," Jack
informed her mother eagerly, "so we need not be bothered with him while
we are traveling, and when we are ready to go she can find a way to
send or bring him to Nagasaki when we sail for home."
"You seem to have bewitched Miss Gresham completely," said Mrs. Corner.
"She is the nicest kind of missionary lady," returned Jack heartily.
"She is so different from my idea of such. Her brother is a medical
missionary, and she has been out here ten years. She has been home
but once in all that time. She has told me the most interesting
things about her work. I shall always be interested in missions after
this; I used rather to think them a bore, but after seeing the work
in her school, and hearing what has been accomplished by the medical
missionaries, I have changed my mind."
The small boy continued to remain under Miss Gresham's care, and was
the loadstone which drew all the girls to the mission school more
frequently than any one of them could have prophesied. Little Toku
was quite placid during this change, the only objection he made being
to clothes, which, in the state of the weather, seemed perfectly
reasonable to every one. He was serene, well cared for and happy.
"At all events," Jack said to Miss Gresham, "if I can't take him home
with me I shall see to it that he is provided for. Nan says she will
help me, and I know you will see to it that he is brought up properly."
"I will certainly do that," Miss Gresham promised. "He is a dear,
bright little fellow, and the girls all make a great fuss over him. He
is the youngest in the school, you see."
"I hope to persuade mother to let us have him," Jack went on, "but if
I can't I shall feel a stronger interest in Japan than ever."
And so the small Toku remained at the school while the Corners went on
with their sightseeing.
[Illustration: CHAPTER XVII
IN A TYPHOON]