TAKASHIMA'S HOME-COMING.
Takashima had left the Americans at the dock. He had offered the
Ballards every courtesy, even inviting them to go with him to his home.
This, however, they refused, and as it had been so long since he had
been in Japan he was almost as much a stranger to his surroundings as
they were; so he left them to the care of Sinclair's secretary, feeling
confident that he would show them every attention,--telling them that he
would call on them the next day. He realized that they felt a trifle
strange, and wanted, in his generous, gentle way, to make them feel at
home in Japan. Two old Japanese gentlemen who stood on the dock, peering
eagerly among the passengers as they passed down the gangway, now paused
before him. Both were visibly affected, and the one who called his name
so gently and proudly trembled while he did so.
"Orito, my son."
"My father," the young man answered, speaking, impulsively, in pure
Japanese. With one old man holding each of his arms he moved away. Cleo
looked after them, her beautiful eyes full of tears.
"It is his father," she had said. "They have not seen each other for
eight years." Her voice faltered a trifle. "The other one must be _her_
father."