sleeping-porch. A gentle breeze fanned
her face through the lattice work and low slanting sunbeams sifting
in between the shutters fell in rounded blotches upon the opposite
straw matting wall. For a time she lay musing and again fell asleep.

When she next awakened, the room was dimly lighted by a little
glowing electric bulb and Madame Oshima was sitting near her. Her
hostess greeted her cordially and offered her water and some fresh
fruit.

Madame Oshima was fully posted upon the riots and confirmed Ethel's
fears as to the fate of her father.

[Illustration: "But have I lost my figure?" inquired the lithe
Madame Oshima.]

"You will be safe here for the present," her hostess assured her.
"Professor Oshima has been called to Tokio; when he returns we will
see what can be done concerning your embarking for America."

Madame Oshima was of French descent but had fully adopted Japanese
customs and ways of thinking.

As soon as Ethel was up and about, her hostess suggested that she
exchange her American-made clothing for the Japanese costume of the
time. But Ethel was inclined to rebel.

"Why," she protested, "if I discarded my corsets I would lose my
figure."

"But have I lost my figure?" inquired the lithe Madame Oshima,
striking an attitude.

To this Ethel did not reply, but continued, "And I would look like a
man," for among the Japanese people tight-belted waists and flopping
skirts had long since been replaced by the kimo, a single-piece
garment worn by both sexes and which fitted the entire body with
comfortable snugness.

"And is a man so ill-looking?" asked her companion, smiling.

"Why, no, of course not, only he's different. Why, I couldn't wear a
kimo--people would see--my limbs," stammered the properly-bred
American girl.

"Why, no, they couldn't," replied Madame Oshima. "Not if you keep
your kimo on."

"But they would see my figure."

"Well, I thought you just said that was what you were afraid they
wouldn't see."

"But I don't mean that way--they--they could see the shape of my--my
legs," said Ethel, blushing crimson.

"Are you ashamed that your body has such vulgar parts?" returned the
older woman.

"No, of course not," said Ethel, choking back her embarrassment.
"But it's wicked for a girl to let men know such things."

"Oh, they all know it," replied Madame Oshima, "they learn it in
school."

At this the highly strung Ethel burst into sobs.

"There, there now," said her compa