On my way to join the festival party at the appointed time I passed
through the streets of the city, brilliant with decorations of flags and
lanterns. Gay crowds sauntered beneath graceful arches of pine and lacey
bamboo. For the time worry and work were laid aside with every-day
dress, and like smiling, happy children on a picnic, the vast throngs
moved toward the temple where the great "Matsuri" was in progress. A man
deaf and blind would have known it was a holiday by the feel in the air.
He would also have felt as I did the change in the atmosphere as he
neared Kishimoto's house.
The maid, who answered my summons, said the family would soon be ready
to start; the hairdresser had finished; the ceremonial obis were being
tied for the madams; the Dana San had about completed his devotions
before the household shrine. Would I bring my most august body into the
living-room and hang my honorable self upon the floor?