Little Sister Snow Part 4

"No, Yuki San, you don't ever want to be a coquette. You want to be your sweet little self, and make a good wife to that handsome soldier Saito, with all his gold braid and dingle-dangles. But what about breakfast? You see, my train leaves in an hour. If you don't give me something to fill my honorable insides, I'll have to eat you, sure enough."

In mock fear she quickly brought a low table from an inner room, and with deft hands placed the steaming soup and broiled fish before him.

The knife and fork were a concession to Merrit's inability to wield the chopsticks, and sitting on his heels was Merrit's concession to the inability of the house to provide a chair.

"h.e.l.lo!" he said, picking up a long-stemmed rose, "where did you find this beauty?"

"I guessed her with my nose," the girl answered. "You know what make her heart so red? Long time ago, most beautiful princess love with wrong man. Make Buddha ve'y angly, and he turn her body into white rose. But her heart just stay all time red 'cause of beautiful love that was there."

"My! he's a fierce old customer, that Buddha of yours," said Merrit.

Yuki San paused in the filling of the rice-bowl and looked at him gravely:

"Merrit San, do you know G.o.d?"

"Do I know G.o.d?" he repeated, with a half-embarra.s.sed laugh.

"Yes, Christians' G.o.d, what you must love and love, but no never can see till die-time come. You know, Merrit San?" Then, lowering her voice in earnest inquiry, she went on: "You believe that Christians'

G.o.d more better for j.a.panese girl than Buddha?"

For a moment Merrit felt the hot blood of confusion rise to his temples. The role of spiritual adviser was a new and somewhat embarra.s.sing one. Struggling for expression, he floundered hopelessly.

"I--I--I guess I don't know very much about it. But there's one sure tip, Yuki San, the Christians' G.o.d is all right. You can't lose out if you pin to him." He stammered like a foolish schoolboy, but struggled bravely on: "When things get pretty thick and you've struck bottom, that's the time you find out. I know. I've been there. More's the pity I don't remember it oftener!"

"And you think him more better for me?" asked Yuki San, still perplexed.

"You bet I do!" said Merrit with conviction. "Take my word for it and don't forget."

"I no forget," she said.

A sliding of the screen and a call from the court-yard announced the arrival of the jinrikisha men, who had come for the baggage.

Merrit thrust back his half-finished breakfast.

"By Jove! I'd most forgotten this is my last meal with you. Just to think all that tiresome old government contract is finished and I'll soon be on my way to the other side!"

"You want to see other side?" she asked. "Mama San not there no more."

Then seeing his face darken, she laid a quick hand of sympathy on his.

"I have the sorrowful for you," she said earnestly, then went on hastily: "That other side! Yes, I know that most beautiful 'Merica.

Most big ship in the world come rolling into Hatoba. Merrit San so long and big, stand way out front and see over much people. Then he cry out, 'Herro!' herro!' with glad and much joyful. He see that lovely girl like picture waiting there!"

Without pausing for a reply, she pushed open a door and called in j.a.panese to her father and mother, who never made their appearance till Merrit's breakfast was finished.

"Come, make ready to give our guest an honorable departure," she said.

In the small courtyard facing the street the girl found the men, with their jinrikishas and baggage-wagon, waiting to convey Merrit to the station. She carefully directed the tying on of the various trunks and bags, and placed the family just where they should stand that the greatest honor might be done the departing guest.

As Merrit came out of the little house and reached for his shoes, which stood waiting at the side, Yuki San started toward him, eager to serve him to the last. Merrit motioned her back.

"Don't come too near, Yuki San. If you happened to fall into one of those shoes, you'd be lost for ever and ever, and that big Mr. Saito would be inviting me to cut off my head."

Yuki San laughed and smoothed the cushions in the jinrikisha while she gave minute directions to the jinrikisha men.

Merrit made his adieu with high good humor, and so many big words that Yuki San was hard pressed to interpret. He invited the family and all their relatives to come to see him in America. When he reached Yuki San he held out his hand. Made shy by the unusual ceremony, she timidly laid a cold and unresponsive little palm in his. He looked down from his height with tender memories of all her gentle courtesies.

"Good-by, little snow-girl," he said. "I'll never forget j.a.pan, nor you."

She withdrew her hand and looked inquiringly up at him.

"Some long time you come back?"

Merrit climbed into the jinrikisha "No, Yuki San, you know I'll soon have a little home of my own to work and care for. I'll be a busy man for the next few years, so I guess I'll not come back."

As in a dream, Yuki San saw the men adjust their hats and tighten their sashes as they took their places in front of the small vehicle.

Mechanically she bowed her farewell with the rest of the family, but she did not join their "Sayonara."

She watched the swift moving of the jinrikisha wheels, then she saw Merrit turn at the gate and wave his hat as he joyously called:

"Good-by, Yuki San, G.o.d bless you!"

The girl stood still, her eyes on the empty gate. Like a lonely, hurt child her lip quivered, and she caught it between her teeth to steady it.

"Ah, Yuki," cried her mother, "some spirit has wished you harm. A drop of blood rests on your lips."

Yuki San drew her hand across her mouth, and lightly answered that maybe a robin had tried to steal a cherry. But to herself she murmured:

"My heart bleed for lonely. He _never_ come back."

CHAPTER V

The following day a host of acc.u.mulated duties and various preparations for the first ceremonious visit of the groom-elect kept Yuki San's hands and mind busy, and if sometimes a sob rose in her throat, or her eyes strayed wistfully from her task, she resolutely refused to let herself dwell upon the past.

The marriage, which had been dutifully accepted as a matter of course and looked forward to as a financial relief to the entire family, had never held any particular interest for her, but now even the preparations, which had hitherto excited her interest and enthusiasm, found her listless and indifferent.

She would be mistress over a great mansion and many servants, and her days were to be spent in arranging for the physical comfort of Saito and the entertainment of his friends.

The arrangement had seemed so simple, and so right, and she had been gratified that a desirable husband had been found. But now she could neither understand nor explain to herself her new and strange resistance. She only knew that for the first time in her life there was rebellion against the inevitable.

As she rested her tired body before beginning her toilet for the afternoon, she remembered an American teacher at school who had been _in love_ with the man she was soon to marry. She remembered how she had hidden behind the trees to see this young teacher run to the gate to meet the postman, and her own failure to see why these letters should bring such joy. She, with other girls, had spent a whole recess acting this scene amid peals of laughter. Now it all came back to her with new meaning, and it seemed neither strange nor amusing.

She leaned her head against the open _shoji_ and looked out into the garden, radiant and beautiful in the high noon of a perfect autumn day.

The working world paused in a brief sleep and the music of the garden was hushed, while the insects sought the shadow of green leaves. Peace was within and without, save in the girl's awakening heart.

"Ah, Sensei," she murmured through her trembling lips. "Then I make fun for your letter of love. Forgive my impolite. Now I the understanding have."