her story of how, when she
was a young girl at a mission school, she unintentionally joined in
a Christian prayer, and nearly took the skin off her tongue
afterwards scrubbing it with strong soap and water to wash away the
stain. There wasn't even a smile as she quietly spoke of the many
times later when with that same prayer she had tried to make less
hard the after-horrors of war.

The possibilities of Japanese women are amazing even to one who
thinks he knows them. They look as if made for decoration only,
and with a flirt of their sleeves they bring out a surprise that
turns your ideas a double somersault. Here they were, laughing and
chatting like a bunch of fresh schoolgirls for whom life was one
long holiday. Yet ten out of the number had recently packed away
their gorgeous clothes, and laid on a high shelf all royal ranks
and rights, for a nurse's dress and kit. Apparently delicate and
shy they can be, if emergency demands, as grim as war or as tender
as heaven.

It was a blithesome day and if it had n't been for that "all gone"
sort of a feeling, that possesses me when evening draws near and
Jack is far away, content might have marked me as her own. As it
was I put off playing a single at dinner as long as possible by
calling on a month-old bride whom I had known as a girl. With glee
I accepted the offer of an automobile to take me for the visit, and
repented later. Two small chauffeurs and a diminutive footman
raced me through the narrow, crowded streets, scattering the
populace to any shelter it could find. The only reason we didn't
take the fronts out of the shops is that Japanese shops are
frontless. I looked back to see the countless victims of our
speed. I saw only a crowd coming from cover, smiling with
curiosity and interest. We hit the top of the hill with a
flourish, and when I asked what was the hurry my attendants looked
hurt and reproachfully asked if that wasn't the way Americans liked
to ride.

Mate, this is a land of contrasts and contradictions. At the
garden all had been life and color. At this home, where the
wrinkled old servitor opened the heavily carved gates for me, it
was as if I had stepped into a bit of ancient Japan, jealously
guarded from any encroachment of new conditions or change of custom.

Like a curious package, contents unknown, I was passed from one
automatic servant to another till I finally reached the
_Torishihimari_ or mistress of ceremonies. By clo