The next two days passed happily, if a little giddily, and Jane and I
commanded every resource to entertain our guest. Zura saw and responded
like a watch-spring suddenly released. She found in two simple old women
perfect subjects on which to vent her long-suppressed spirits. She
entered into the activities of the household with such amazing zest, it
seemed as if we were playing kitchen furniture. While it surprised me
how one young girl could so disturb regular working hours and get things
generally a-flutter, I could easily see that all she needed was a chance
to be herself. That was the point that Kishimoto had to understand and
would not.
"Please let me be Santa Claus this time, and give out the cod liver oil
and the milk and the bibs to the babies," Zura begged one day when these
articles were to be distributed; "and mayn't I keep the kiddies for just
a little while to play with?"
An hour later, attracted by much noise, I walked out into the garden
and saw Zura with a clean, but much-patched baby on her back, one in
each arm, and a half-dozen trailing behind. The game was "Here we go
'round the mulberry bush," sung in English and played in Japanese.
"Oh, Miss Jenkins," cried the merry leader, "come quick. We need a bush
and you will make such a nice fat one."
Before I knew what was happening I was drawn into the mad frolic,
reckless of all the work piled up on my desk in the study. I thought
maybe I was growing feeble-minded, but the way to it was delightful, if
foolish.
* * * * *
Strangely enough, during this time Page Hanaford did not appear. We
explained to Zura that he was present the day she made her brief call.
"Oh! do you mean the day I flew into the 'Misty Star' and right out
again? Yes, I remember his outlines. Where did you find him? Looked more
like a sure-enough man than anything I've seen in Japan."
Jane monopolized the talk at breakfast that morning, describing to Zura
the good looks of Page Hanaford and the charm of his romantic story.
Zura seemed more amused by Jane's manner and the funny twist in her
tongue than impressed by her description.
Miss Gray finally turned to me and urged once again, "Do let's have him
to-night. I'll get the dinner."
Zura clapped her hands and said eagerly, "Oh, let's do! I haven't been
to a party in a century. If Miss Gray will be the 'chefess,' I'll be
assistant potato peeler. I can make the best salad. It's called 'Salade
de la Marquise de Chateaubriand'; but it won't hurt you. It is only
peanuts and cabbage. Daddy and I used to feast on it once a week."
There was no resisting her enthusiasm, and I sent a note to Page
Hanaford asking him to come that evening for dinner.
After all there was nothing I could label a reason why he and Zura
should not meet.
Domesticity was the last thing anybody would suspect a characteristic of
either Jane or Zura. Not knowing what the result would be, I gave the
cook a holiday and turned the incongruous pair loose to do as they
pleased in kitchen and dining-room.
All the afternoon I was busy with my writing, but from time to time
there penetrated through the closed doors of my study sounds of
swift-moving feet and gay laughter. The old house seemed infected with
youth. Contact with it was sweet. Some of my dreams were coming true. I
found myself repeating a long-forgotten poem as I took up another stupid
report. I even hummed a tune, something I had not done in twenty years.
Just before the dinner hour Jane and Zura came into the living-room.
Evidently their work in a common cause put them on the friendliest
terms. They were arm in arm, and I knew by the set of Jane's collar and
the rose in her hair that young and skilful hands had been at work.
Zura's white dress was dainty enough, but it seemed to melt into nothing
about the neck and sleeves. It must have been brought from America, as I
had seen none like it. Nobody could deny, however, that with her face,
all aglow beneath her lustrous hair, she was a goodly sight for young
and old.
"Isn't she the very sweetest thing?" asked Jane as they approached,
adding wistfully, "But I truly wish her dear nose didn't tilt up!"
Zura with stern, forbidding brows, but laughing eyes, rebuked the
wisher. "See here, Miss Jinny Gray, that is the only nose I have, if it
is sudden. I've worked hard to coax it in the straight and narrow path.
I've even slept on my face for a week at a time." Then with swift,
dramatic gestures as the gong sounded at the entrance-door, she
whispered, "Hush! The man of mystery doth appear!"
Page Hanaford came in. All our tempting tonics and special dishes had
failed to curve the angles in the boy's face and body. He still looked
ill. The brooding sadness that frequently overshadowed his lighter moods
troubled me.
When he caught sight of Zura, his alertness of manner was pleasing and
the kind of joy-look in his eyes did me good. I guessed he was downright
glad to see something youthful hovering around the "Misty Star." I was
glad too, but the situation did not seem to call for hurrahs and
fireworks. Two young American people meeting, shaking hands, and
courteously greeting each other was an unusual sight to me, but after
all a natural one. Page said he had been obliged to forego the pleasure
of seeing us, as he had been very busy organizing his new classes. He
was glad to come again.
We went at once to dinner. I wondered from where the new "chefess" and
her assistant "potato peeler" had procured the materials necessary to so
pretentious a meal. Though surprised, I soon learned that Jane Gray was
mistress of the art of making something beautiful out of nothing.
We sat down to the softly-lighted table. The china was old and somewhat
chipped, but on its white background a design in tender blue just
matched the fresh larkspur used for table decorations. With the bringing
in of each dish prepared by the new cooks the little party grew gayer
and friendlier. The quaint old dining-room had never witnessed
festivities like these. In the long ago it served as the audience
chamber of a Daimyo's 'Besso' or play place. It was here that the feudal
lord had held council of war and state. The walls had never before
echoed the laughter of joyous youth. Now even the grotesque figures on
the carved beams seemed to awaken from a long sleep and give back smile
for smile.
Pine Tree and Maple Leaf, gay in holiday dress, usually so precise and
formal, fluttered about like distracted butterflies as they served the
dinner, often stopping to hide their faces in the long sleeves when Zura
honored them with side remarks for, of course, she was the source of all
the merriment, the life of the party. She also reduced Jane to a state
of helpless laughter. I felt the years dropping away from me, and the
face of the boy whom I had learned to love was less strained and
brighter than I had ever seen it. He said little at first, but his eyes
smiled, and he listened eagerly to all Zura's chatter and seemed to be
hearing once again of joys dreamed of and a world lost to him.
I knew myself growing happier every minute. The after-dinner coffee was
not necessary to make, somewhere near my heart, little thrills jump up
and down, like corn in a hot popper. I was getting what my soul
craved--companionship, contact with life, and a glimpse into the doings
of youth's magic years.
We soon returned to the living-room. Page prepared to smoke, and we
settled down to a friendly, intimate time.
The talk turned to school. Jane had been telling of a Japanese woman,
who, handicapped by the loss of an arm, and no longer being useful in
field work, trudged every morning eight miles to school where she could
learn sewing so as to help husband and babies.
"Well!" remarked Zura doubtingly. "I can't sew with two hands, and my
tongue thrown in. I do not see how she manipulates anything so contrary
as a needle, single-fisted."
"Oh! my dear," said Jane, "you can believe with one hand just as hard
as you can with two. It's hoping with all your might, while one is
doing, that makes our dreams come true. I'm afraid you never really
loved school."
"Oh, yes, I did in spots," she said. "Especially if there were a fight
on--I mean--a contest. I could bear with cheerful resignation all the
V.P's., the B.B's., and chilly zeros they tagged on to my deportment,
but I would have worked myself into a family skeleton, before I would
permit another girl to outclass me in a test exam! I could forgive the
intellectual her sunset hair, but her Grecian nose--never!"
The methods employed by the two contestants as related by Zura had
called forth my unqualified sympathy for the teacher when once again the
gong on my front-door rang out and a voice was heard asking for Miss
Wingate.
Zura jumped up from her seat and greeted the visitor with frank delight.
"Oh!" she said, "it's Pinkey Chalmers! Who'd believe it! Hello, Pinkey!
My! but it is good to see somebody from home."
There was ushered into the room a well nourished looking chap, who
greeted Zura by her first name familiarly. I did not need to be told
that he was the young man with whom she had been seen on the highway.
He was introduced to me as Mr. Tom Chalmers; I was told he had earned
his nickname, "Pinkey," by contracting the pink-shirt habit.
The youth was carelessly courteous and very sure of himself. My
impression was that he had seen too much of the world and not enough of
his mother. He declined my invitation to dine, saying he had had late
tea before he left the ship which was coaling in a nearby port.
"I started early," he went on, "but maybe you think I didn't have a
great old time finding this place. You said in your note, Zura, it was
the 'Misty Star' at the top of the hill. Before I reached here I thought
it must be the last stopping-place in the Milky Way. Climbing up those
steps was something awful."
Mr. Chalmers mopped his rosy brow, but later conversation proved his
sensitiveness to feminine beauty quite overbalanced his physical
exhaustion, as on the way many pretty girls peeped out from behind paper
doors.
Page kept in the background, plainly arranging a mode of escape. He soon
excused himself on the plea of work, saying as he left, "I'll drop in
some time to-morrow for the book. You'll find it by then."
With the look of a disappointed child on her face, Jane called to her
little attendants, went to her room and resumed her knitting.
The unbidden guest was gaiety itself, and there was no denying the
genuine pleasure of the girl. As the night was warm and glorious, I
suggested that Zura and her guest sit on the balcony.
I picked up a book and sat by my reading lamp, but my eyes saw no
printed words. My mind was busy with other thoughts. I was a woman
without experience and had never lived in the world of these two. But
intuition is stronger than custom and longer than fashion. The standards
I held for the boys and girls of my country were high and noble. Frankly
I did not like the man's attention to Zura, the intimate companionship
suggested by his actions, nor his unreserved manner. The girl had told
us of their chance meeting on the steamer coming from Seattle. Any
mention of his name on her part was so open, she spoke of him as just a
good playfellow to help her to pass away the time, I could not believe
her feelings involved. But, fearful tragedies can be fostered by
loneliness and in Mr. Chalmers's easy familiarity with the lonely girl,
there was something wanting; I could only name it chivalry. Yet, as
their voices came to me, glad, happy, vibrant with the joys of youth and
its interests, I thought perhaps I did not understand the ways of the
young and their customs, because I had never known their delights. On
and on the boy and girl talked, unheeding my presence and the fact that
I could hear.
From out the open window I caught a glimpse of the radiant blue between
the distant hills and the light of the great evening star as it flashed
its eternal message to the sparkling waters below.
Zura saw it and called softly to her companion, "Hush, Pinkey! Look!
Isn't that a bit of heaven?"
And he of the earth replied, "I am looking at you. That is all the
heaven I want just now."
"You silly!" was the unvexed reproof.
After a pause they began to talk of queer and, to me, far-off
things--something about the "average" of "Giants" and "Cubs," of
"quarter-backs," "full-backs" and a kind of "great rush," though what it
was after I never knew. I supposed he was telling her of some wild tribe
festival when he spoke of dances bearing the names of animals and
fowls. It was all as incomprehensible to me as Hindustanee.
At last he said to her, "Well, girlie, I'm about due to leave now. I am
sorry, but I must be moving." Then more softly, "Remember to-morrow
night. You take a wrap and I'll see to the lunch. Boat will be ready at
eight. By Jove! with a night like this what a lark it will be!"
The meaning of this was as clear as my crystal paper weight, and between
the door where Mr. Chalmers bade Zura good-night and the lodge where I
aroused the sleeping Ishi to his duty of custodian my thoughts went
around like a fly-wheel on full duty.
The reflected flame of the old bronze lantern, swayed by the night-wind,
fell on the great gate and transformed the carved dragons and attendant
demons into living, moving things.
The departing guest saw it and remarked with a mock fear, "That
dragonette seems alive; hope he and his angels will not follow me. Some
carving that!"
"Are you interested in curious things, Mr. Chalmers?"
"I should say. Everything from jiujitsu to eels and chopsticks catches
me."
"Have you ever seen a garden in this country which boasts some three or
four centuries of birthdays?"
"No; but I should like to gaze on the spectacle."
Here was my opportunity to get in serious conference with the young man,
and as it seemed one of the few sights Mr. Chalmers had missed, I was
charmed to make my offer.
"My garden is very famous," I said, "and just now it is in its full
beauty. I wonder if you would come to-morrow morning and permit me to
show it to you?"
"Sure. Thanks," was the answer as he swung down the street and into the
sleeping town below.