Nothing that these Japanese workmen made for me at the rate of
sevenpence or eightpence a day can be approached in London for love or
money. I had some gold screens made for me in Japan. They were very
beautiful, and were made of gold on silk varnished over and lacquered,
with apple-green and vermilion silk borders made from the linings of old
dancing dresses. These screens were so brilliant that they were like
gold mirrors in which a lady might see her reflection just as accurately
as in any Parisian cheval glass. In the passage to England one of the
screens became slightly damaged. I was greatly distressed, and took it
to a celebrated firm of house-decorators to have it repaired. They
undertook the task very confidently; but directly they attempted to
match the gold they found that it was impossible to approach to anything
like the brilliancy of its surface, although every conceivable method
was attempted. They tried putting on gold and then burnishing and
varnishing it over to imitate the surface of the lacquer. The result was
that, to the present day, that screen stands in my hall with the same
dull, sullied patch in the middle of it, a silent testimony to the
inferiority of the British house-decorator as compared with his Japanese
contemporary.

Little Inchie and I, as I have said, soon became great friends. He
followed me about wherever I went, and I often lingered in his store,
watching him sell curios to English people and British merchants from
Kobe. It was often a revelation to observe the subtlety of the man and
the masterly way in which he handled these inquiring visitors. He seemed
to divine their inner-most thoughts, and to know at a glance exactly
what they wanted, and the prices that they would be likely to pay. After
a time I learnt the price of nearly every curio in his store. There was
never a fixed value for anything: Inchie was always led by his customer.
Perhaps an American and his wife would come in, the man saying nothing,
the wife remarking on everything. It was, they said, all "beautiful." I
noticed that little Inchie was not at all enthusiastic, merely answering
their questions, but not attempting to sell. He would not waste an ounce
of energy on them, and after a time they would sweep out of the place,
the lady gushing to the last moment and saying how beautiful and
exquisite everything was. Directly they had gone I would ask Inchie why
he had not worked harder to try and sell them something.