e
mistress of that lovely garden, she would banish the stone foxes and
risk their displeasure.

The two girls returned to the house. Its shutters were up, and it,
too, had that same appearance of a Noah's Ark but of a more complete
and expensive variety. One little opening was left in the wooden
armature for the girls to enter by.

"Please come again many, many times," was cousin Sadako's last
farewell. "The house of the Fujinami is your home. _Sayonara_!"

* * * * *

Geoffrey was waiting for his wife in the hall of the hotel. He was
anxious at her late return. His embrace seemed to swallow her up to
the amusement of the _boy sans_ who had been discussing the lateness
of _okusan_, and the possibility of her having an admirer.

"Thank goodness," said Geoffrey, "what have you been doing? I was just
going to organise a search party."

"I have been with Mrs. Fujinami and Sadako," Asako panted, "they
would not let me go; and oh!"--She was going to tell him all about her
mother's picture; but she suddenly checked herself, and said instead,
"They've got such a lovely garden."

She described the home of the cousins in glowing colours, the
hospitality of the family, the cleverness of cousin Sadako, and
the lessons which they were going to exchange. Yes, she replied to
Geoffrey's questions, she had seen the memorial tablets of her father
and mother, and their wedding photograph. But a strange paralysis
sealed her lips, and her soul became inarticulate. She found herself
absolutely incapable of telling that big foreign husband of hers,
truly as she loved him, the veritable state of her emotions when
brought face to face with her dead parents.

Geoffrey had never spoken to her of her mother. He had never seemed
to have the least interest in her identity. These "Jap women," as he
called them, were never very real to him. She dreaded the possibility
of revealing to him her secret, and then of receiving no response to
her emotion. Also she had an instinctive reluctance to emphasise in
Geoffrey's mind her kinship with these alien people.

After dinner, when she had gone up to her room, Geoffrey was left
alone with his cigar and his reflection.

"Funny that she did not speak more about her father and mother. But I
suppose they don't mean much to her, after all. And, by Jove, it's a
good thing for me! I wouldn't like to have a wife who was all the time
running home to her people, and comparing