Time and environment work miracles. It is interesting to study the
phases of emotion that one passes through as he emerges from youth into
manhood. The exaggerated expressions, the unalterable conclusions, the
tragic imaginings, the resolves, which he feels nothing can shake, how
sadly and ludicrously and with what swiftness are they dissipated.
It came to pass that Sunny's friends across the sea reached a period
where they thought of her vaguely only as a charming and amusing episode
of an idyllic summer in the Land of the Rising Sun. Into the oblivion of
the years, farther and farther retreated the face of the Sunny whose
April smile and ingenuous ways and lovely face had once so warmed and
charmed their young hearts.
New faces, new scenes, new loves, work and the claims and habits that
fasten upon one with the years--these were the forces that engrossed
them. I will not say that she was altogether forgotten in the new life,
but at least she occupied but a tiny niche in their sentimental
recollections. There were times, when a reference to Japan would call
forth a murmur of pleasureable reminiscences, and humorous references to
some remembered fantastic trick or trait peculiar to the girl, as:
"Do you remember when Sunny tried to catch that nightingale by putting
salt near a place where she thought his tail might rest? I had told her
she could catch him by putting salt on his tail, and the poor kid took
me literally."
Jinx chuckled tenderly over the memory. In the first year after his
return to America Jinx had borne his little friend quite often in mind,
and had sent her several gifts, all of which were gratefully
acknowledged by the Reverend Simon Sutherland.
"Will you ever forget" (from Bobs) "her intense admiration for Monty's
white skin? She sat on the bank of the pool for nearly an hour, with the
unfortunate kid under water, waiting for her to go away, while she
waited for him to come out, because she said she wanted to see what a
white body looked like 'wiz nothing but skin on for clothes.' I had to
drag her off by main force. Ha, ha! I'll never forget her indignation,
or her question whether Monty was 'ashamed his body.' The public baths
of Nagasaki, you know, were social meeting places, and introductions
under or above water quite the rule."
"I suppose," said Jerry, pulling at his pipe thoughtfully, "we never
will get the Japanese point of view anent the question of morals."
"It's the shape of their eyes. They see things slant-wise," suggested
Jinx brilliantly.
"But Sunny's eyes, as I recall them," protested Bobs, "were not
slanting, and she had their point of view. You'll recall how the Proff
had much ado to prevent her taking her own quaint bath in our 'lake' in
beauty unadorned."
A burst of laughter broke forth here.
"Did he now? He never told me anything about that."
"Didn't tell me either, but I _heard_ him. He explained to Sunny in the
most fatherly way the whole question of morals from the day of Adam
down, and she got him so tangled up and ashamed of himself that he
didn't know where he was at. However, as I recall it, he must have won
out in the contention, for you'll recall how she voiced such scathing
and contemptuous criticism later on the public bathers of Japan, whom
she said were 'igrant and nod god nize Americazan manner and wear dress
cover hees body ad those bath.'"
"Ah, Sunny was a darling kid, take it from me. Just as innocent and
sweet as a new-born babe." This was Jinx's sentimental contribution, and
no voice arose to question his verdict.
So it will be perceived that her friends, upon the rare occasions when
she was recalled to memory, still held her in loving, if humorous
regard, and it was the custom of Jerry to end the reminiscences of Sunny
with a big sigh and a dumping of the ash from his pipe, as he dismissed
the subject with:
"Well, well, I suppose she's the Empress of Japan by now."
All of them were occupied with the concerns and careers that were of
paramount importance to them. Monty, though but in his twenty-first
year, an Intern at Bellevue; Bobs, star reporter on the _Comet_; Jinx,
overwhelmingly rich, the melancholy and unwilling magnet of all aspiring
mothers-in-law; Jerry, an outlaw from the house of Hammond, though his
engagement to Miss Falconer bade fair to reinstate him in his parents'
affections. He was doggedly following that star of which he had once
told Sunny. Eight hours per day in an architect's office, and four or
six hours in his own studio, was the sum of the work of Jerry. He "lived
in the clouds," according to his people; but all the great deeds of the
world, and all of the masterpieces penned or painted by the hand of man,
Jerry knew were the creations of dreamers--the "cloud livers." So he
took no umbrage at the taunt, and kept on reaching after what he had
once told Sunny was that Jade of fortune--Beauty.
Somewhere up the State, Professor Barrowes pursued the uneven tenor of
his way as Professor of Archeology and Zoology in a small college.
Impetuous and erratic, becoming more restless with the years, he escaped
the irritations and demands of the class room at beautiful intervals,
when he indulged in a passion of research that took him into the far
corners of the world, to burrow into the earth in search of things
belonging to the remote dead and which he held of more interest than
mere living beings. His fortunes were always uncertain, because of this
eccentric weakness, and often upon returning from some such quest his
friends had much ado to secure him a berth that would serve as an
immediate livelihood. Such position secured, after considerable wire
pulling on the part of Jerry and other friends, Professor Barrowes would
be no sooner seated in the desired chair, when he would begin to lay
plans for another escape. An intimate friendship existed between Jerry
and his old master, and it was to Jerry that he invariably went upon his
return from his archeological quests. Despite the difference in their
years, there was a true kinship between these two. Each comprehended the
other's aspirations, and in a way the passion for exploration and the
passion for beauty is analogous. Jerry's parents looked askance at this
friendship, and were accustomed to blame the Professor for their son's
vagaries, believing that he aided and abetted and encouraged Jerry,
which was true enough.
Of all Sunny's friends, Professor Barrowes, alone, kept up an irregular
communication with the Sutherlands. Gratifying reports of the progress
of their protégé came from the missionary at such times. Long since, it
had been settled that Sunny should be trained to become a shining
example to her race--if, in fact, the Japanese might be termed her race.
It was the ambition of the good missionary to so instruct the girl that
she would be competent to step into the missionary work, and with her
knowledge of the Japanese tongue and ways, her instructor felt assured
they could expect marvels from her in the matter of converting the
heathen.
It is true the thought of that vivid little personality in the grey rôle
of a preacher, brought somewhat wry faces to her friends, and
exclamations even of distaste.
"Gosh!" groaned Jinx sadly, "I'd as lieves see her back on the
tightrope."
"Imagine Sunny preaching! It would be a raving joke. I can just hear her
twisting up her eight million gods and goddesses with our own deity,"
laughed Bobs.
"Like quenching a firefly's light, or the bruising of a butterfly's
wings," murmured Jerry, dreamily, his head encircled with rings of
smoke.
But then one becomes accustomed to even a fantastic thought. We accredit
certain qualities and actions to individuals, and, in time, in our
imaginations at least, they assume the traits with which we have
invested them. After all, it was very comforting to think of that
forlorn orphan child in the safe haven of a mission school.
So the years ran on and on, as they do in life, and as they do in
stories such as this, and it came to pass, as written above, that Sunny
disappeared into the fragrant corners of a pretty memory. There is where
Sunny should perhaps have stayed, and thus my story come to a timely
end.
Consider the situation. A girl, mainly of white blood, with just a drop
of oriental blood in her--enough to make her a bit different from the
average female of the species, enough, say, to give a snack of that
savage element attributed to the benighted heathen. Rescued by men of
her father's race from slavery and abuse; provided for for the rest of
her days; under the instruction of a zealous and conscientious
missionary and his wife, who earnestly taught her how to save the souls
of the people of Japan. Sunny's fate was surely a desirable one, and as
she progressed on the one side of the water, her friends on the other
side were growing in sundry directions, ever outward and upward,
acquiring new responsibilities, new loves, new claims, new passions with
the passing of the years. What freak of fate therefore should interpose
at this juncture, and thrust Sunny electrically into the lives of her
friends again?