nues of his garden and
into the foreground of his picture! and how big the brick in his hand!
and ah, how angry he seemed!

Wio-wani came right down to the edge of the picture-frame and held up
the brick. "What did you do that for?" he asked.

"I... didn't!" Tiki-pu's old master was beginning to reply; and the lie
was still rolling on his tongue when the weight of the brick-bat, hurled
by the stout arm of Wio-wani, felled him. After that he never spoke
again. That brick-bat, which he himself had reared, became his own
tombstone.

Just inside the picture-frame stood Tiki-pu, kissing the wonderful hands
of Wio-wani, which had taught him all their skill. "Good-bye, Tiki-pu!"
said Wio-wani, embracing him tenderly. "Now I am sending my second self
into the world. When you are tired and want rest come back to me: old
Wio-wani will take you in."

Tiki-pu was sobbing, and the tears were running down his cheeks as he
stepped out of Wio-wani's wonderfully painted garden and stood once
more upon earth. Turning, he saw the old man walking away along the
path toward the little door under the palace-wall. At the door Wio-wani
turned back and waved his hand for the last time. Tiki-pu still stood
watching him. Then the door opened and shut, and Wio-wani was gone.
Softly as a flower the picture seemed to have folded its leaves over
him.

Tiki-pu leaned a wet face against the picture and kissed the door in the
palace-wall which Wio-wani had painted so beautifully. "O Wio-wani, dear
master," he cried, "are you there?"

He waited, and called again, but no voice answered him.

THE WAY OF THE WIND

Where the world breaks up into islands among the blue waves of an
eastern sea, in a little house by the seashore, lived Katipah, the only
child of poor parents. When they died she was left quite alone and could
not find a heart in the world to care for her. She was so poor that no
man thought of marrying her, and so delicate and small that as a drudge
she was worth nothing to anybody.

Once a month she would go and stand at the shrine gate, and say to the
people as they went in to pray, "Will nobody love me?" And the people
would turn their heads away quickly and make haste to get past, and in
their hearts would wonder to themselves: "Foolish little Katipah!
Does she think that we can spare time to love any one so poor and
unprofitable as she?"

On the other days Katipah would go down to the beach, where everybody
went who ha