Little Sister Snow Part 3

Through all the years that she had struggled for an education at the mission-school, English had been invariably a.s.sociated with a tall, awkward, foreign boy, whose mouth made funny curves and whose eyes laughed when he made strange sounds. How big and splendid and handsome he had grown! How different his clothes from any she had ever seen before! How white his long hands, whose strong, firm touch she remembered so well! She looked and looked again, drinking in the tones of his deep voice, till the throbbing of her heart sent a flood of crimson to her cheeks.

But gradually her shyness wore away, and when Merrit asked her how in the world he was to conduct his business with so few j.a.panese words at his command, she ventured to answer: "I know; I give you the teach of Nippon, you give me the wise of dat funny 'Merican tongue."

"That's a go!" said d.i.c.k, as he held out his hand to close the bargain.

But the girl drew back, troubled.

"No, no, you no _go_! You stay. I give you all my intellect of Nippon speech. Please!" and she looked up pleadingly.

Merrit laughed outright.

"That's all right, Yuki San; I am going to stay, and we will begin school in the morning."

By this time the mother and father had learned of the guest's arrival and hurried in to bid him welcome. The unpacking of his steamer-trunk and the disposal of his possessions in his small apartment was a matter of interest to the whole family. Each article was politely examined and exclaimed over, and when Merrit drew out a package of photographs and showed them his home and family and friends, the excitement became intense.

That night Yuki San lay once more on her soft _futon_ and watched the shadow of the night-lamp play upon the screens. Nothing was changed in the homely room since she had lain there in her babyhood: the same little lamp, the same little Buddha on the shelf looking at her with inscrutable eyes.

Yuki San stirred restlessly. "Dat most nice girl in picture," she said to herself. "Him make marry with dat girl, he say." Then she added inconsequently, with a sigh, "I much hope Saito San go to war for long, long time."

CHAPTER IV

For two halcyon months Yuki San lived in a dream. The ample compensation Merrit insisted upon making for the hospitality extended to him more than met the modest needs of the little household, and once again, as in the earlier days, they went on jolly excursions, visited ancient temples, and picnicked under the shadow of the _torii_. The father and mother always trotted close behind, and Yuki San, vastly pleased with her ability, gaily translated the speeches from one to another. She talked incessantly, laughing over her own mistakes, and growing prettier and more winsome every day.

Merrit was glad to fill his leisure time in such pleasant companionship. Yuki San was the same little bundle of charm he remembered of old, with her innocence untouched, and a heart whose depths had never yet been stirred.

He teased her, and taught her, and played with her, as he would have played with a merry child. Naturally gentle and affectionate, he unconsciously swept Yuki San to the borderland of that golden world where to awaken alone is agony.

One morning, when the heavy mists of the valley lay in ma.s.ses of pink against the deeper purple of the mountain, and his Highness, the sun, his face flushed from his long climb, was sending his first glances over the sunny peaks of Fuji-yama, Yuki San arose, after a sleepless night, and faced the morning with sorrowful eyes.

"You ve'y lazy, Mister Sun, this morning," she said, shaking a finger at him in reproof; "where you the have been? Why you not come the more early and make light for my busy?"

She tied the long sleeves of her bright kimono out of her way, and twisting a bit of cloth about her head, fell to dusting the _shoji_ and setting the small room in order.

"I must the hurry," she said, as she kept up her brisk dusting. "I make the food so quick as that Robin San steal berry for his babies.

To-day him one big, big day, but him no glad day. Merrit San go away."

She paused in her work, and a look of pain darkened her eyes, but she shook her head reproachfully.

"Ah, Yuki San, you make sorry voice and your heart is thinking tears.

You naughty girl! Quick you make the fire to rise in _hibachi_ and give that Merrit San his _gohan_--same thing what that funny 'Merica call breakfast."

After the steam had begun to rise from the vessels on several _hibachi_, Yuki San, flushed by her exertions, rested upon her heels before the door that led into the garden. As she fanned her flushed face with her sleeve, she glanced again and again toward the narrow stairway that led to the chamber above, and at the slightest sound she listened in smiling expectancy.

From outside the wall came the gentle slip-slap of the water against the _sampan_, and the cheerful banter of the owners as they made ready for the work of the day.

Circling the garden, the fern-like maples made a note of vivid crimson amid the feathery green of the bamboo. Every feature of the place was closely a.s.sociated with her short happy life. She had learned to walk on the soft sandy paths, she had spelled out her first characters on the old stone-lantern. She had whispered her secrets to the broken-nosed image of Kwannon, who sat in the shadow of the pines, and there under the plum-tree she had caught the naughty kitten that first brought her and Merrit San together.

As she sat, with folded hands, and watched the sunshine on the dewy leaves and flowers, her intense, restless, vivacious body relaxed in sudden languor and her soft mouth drooped in wistfulness.

A splash in the pool below attracted her, and looking down she saw the gleaming bodies of the goldfish as they leaped into the air. Instantly she was all life and volubility.

"Yuki San one big bad girl; she no remember li'l fish. They always like hungry baby San in early morning. I make fast to fill big hole inside--ve'y li'l outside."

Slipping her half-stockinged feet out of her straw house-shoes, she stepped into her wooden _geta,_ and pa.s.sing a shelf, filled her hands with round rice-cakes.

The edge of the water turned to gold as the fish crowded close. Yuki San scattered the crumbs and stood watching the wriggling ma.s.s for a moment, then said:

"You ve'y greedy li'l fish. I never no can fill your bodies. Now I get flower for Merrit San's breakfast."

She made her way over the flat mossy stones, pa.s.sed the miniature Fuji where dwelt the spirit of the wondrous "Lady who made the flowers to bloom." She paused before the gorgeous chrysanthemums and looked long at the morning-glories, with their tender tints of dawn. But at last she spied on a rose-bush, set apart from the rest, a single white rose with a heart of red.

With a little cry of satisfaction, she thrust her hands among the thorns to pluck it. The rebound of the bush sent fluttering to her feet a brilliant purple b.u.t.terfly. Tender to all living things, Yuki San dropped quickly to her knees and folded the half-chilled creature between the palms of her warm hands.

"Ah, Cho Cho San," she said, "the day of yesterday you so big and strong. The morning of to-day you have the weakness of cold body. That Jack Floss him ve'y naughty boy!"

She put her moist red lips to her folded palms and the warmth of her breath stirred to action the gauzy creature she held captive.

"You no must kick, Cho Cho San! Have the patience. I make you warm, I give you one more day of happy."

Yuki San's wooden shoes sent a sharp click into the quiet morning air as she quickly crossed the arched bridge and followed the path to the stone image beyond the pool. With a touch as soft as the wings she held, the girl lightly balanced the now thoroughly warmed b.u.t.terfly on the broad forehead of the G.o.ddess of Mercy.

In sharp contrast to the spirit of the scene came the clear, rollicking strains of an American air, whistled by some one coming down the steps.

For a moment Yuki San stood motionless, pressing her lips softly to the rose she held. Then, with a swift pitter-patter, she ran back to the house.

"The top of the morning to the honorable Miss Snow," said Merrit, who quite filled the doorway.

Not willing to be surpa.s.sed in salutation, Yuki San laid a hand on each knee, and bending her back at right angles, replied with mock gravity:

"Ohayo Gozaimasu-Kyo wa yoi O tenki."

Merrit knew she had him at a disadvantage in her own language, but, always delighted to see the play of her dimples and the soft pink creep into her cheeks when he teased, he stood by her now, big and stern, and growling.

"See here, Yuki San, otherwise Miss Snow, you just come off your high stilts of that impossible lingo, and speak nice English suitable for a little boy like me to understand."

"Li'l boy like you!" she rippled, "li'l boy like you! Merrit San him so long when he make j.a.panese bow he come down from top like big bamboo-tree--so!" Putting her hands high above her head, she bent till the tips of her fingers touched the floor. Still bent, she twisted her head till her eyes, bright with laughter, looked straight into Merrit's.

He lifted his eyebrows quizzically. "See here, Yuki San, you are fast developing the symptoms of a coquette."

She quickly straightened her back, and with a smile of bewilderment, exclaimed:

"Me croquette? No, no; croquette, him li'l chicken-ball what you eat.

I no can be eat!"

Merrit shouted with delight, then grew grave.