Any name could be
fitted into this convenient and ingenious song.

Otoyo flung open the door and stood smiling before them. Her manner was
the very quintessence of hospitality. She wore a beautiful embroidered
kimono and her hair was fixed Japanese fashion. Even her shoes were
Japanese, and she carried a little fan which she agitated charmingly to
express her excited emotions.

All her English forsook her in the excitement of greeting her guests and
she could only repeat over and over again:

"Otoyo delightly--Otoyo delightly."

"Well, I never," ejaculated Nance, entering her old familiar room, now
transformed into a gay Japanese bazaar.

"Is this the parent of all the umbrella family?" demanded Judy, pointing
to an enormous parasol swung in some mysterious manner from the centre
of the ceiling and resembling a large fish swimming among a numerous
small-fry of lanterns. The divans were spread with Japanese covers, and
over the white dimity curtains were hung cotton crepe ones of pale blue
with a pink cherry-blossom design. In one corner stood a vase, from
which poured the incense of smoking joss-sticks. Funny little handleless
cups were ranged on the table and lacquered trays of candied fruits,
rice cakes and other indescribable Japanese "meat-sweets," as Otoyo had
called them. The little hostess flew about the room exactly as the
_Three Little Maids_ did in "The Mikado," waving her fan and bowing
profoundly to her guests. Presently, sitting cross-legged on the floor,
she sang a song in her own language, accompanying herself on a curious
stringed instrument, a kind of Japanese banjo. She was, in fact, the
funniest, queerest, most captivating little creature ever seen. She
loaded her guests with souvenirs, little lacquered boxes, fans and
diminutive toys.

"I feel as if I were a belle at a grand cotillion with all these lovely
favors," exclaimed Jessie Lynch.

"Of course, you would always be laden with favors," said Judy; "that is,
if you could get all your beaux to come to the same cotillion. You are
like the sailor who had a lass in every port. I strongly suspect you of
having an admirer in every prominent city in the country."

Jessie laughed and dimpled.

"No," she said; "I stopped at the Rocky Mountains."

Otoyo, who had been listening closely to this dialogue, suddenly
bethought herself of a new sensation she had provided for her friends,
which she was about to forget.

"Oh," she cried, "I nearlee for