and hinted faint compliments of his daughter. It was
enough. Nakayama was keen of scent, and he also "was willing." Clapping
his hands, the maid-servant appeared and falling down and bowing her
head to the floor, listened: "Make some tea, and tell Miss Kiku to serve
it."

Had you been in the back rooms of that house, you would have seen Kiku
blush as the maid told her who was in the front room and what her father
had said. Her heart beat furiously, and the carnation of health upon her
cheeks was lost in the hot blushes that mantled her face and beautiful
neck when her mother, reproving her, said, "Why, dear child, don't be
excited: perhaps he has come only on some every-day business, after all.
Be composed, and get ready to take in the tea."

Nevertheless, Kiku took out her metal mirror while the maid made the
tea, smoothed a pretended stray hair, powdered her neck slightly, drew
her robe more tightly around her waist, adjusted her girdle, which did
not need any adjusting, and then, taking up the tray, containing a tiny
tea-pot, a half dozen upturned cups, and as many brass sockets for them,
hastened into the front room, bowed with her face on her hands to the
floor, and then handed cups of tea to her parent and his guest. This
done, she returned to her mother. Whether Taro looked at Kiku's cheeks
or into her glittering black eyes we leave even a foreign reader to
judge.

Let it not be thought, however, that a single word relating to marriage
in the concrete passed between the two men: no such breach of etiquette
was committed. The visit over, the two friends parted as friends, and
nothing more, either in fact or in visible prospect.

But, to be brief, not long afterward, Taro, having selected a trusty
friend, sent him as a go-between to ask of Nakayama the hand of his
daughter in marriage. The proposal was accepted, and when the go-between
came the second time to Kiku's home it was in company with two servants
bearing bundles. These, being opened, were found to contain a splendidly
embroidered girdle, such as Japanese ladies wear, about twelve feet long
and a foot wide when doubled; a robe of the finest white silk from the
famous looms of Kanazawa; five or six pieces of silk not made up;
several kegs of _sake_ or rice-beer; dried fish, soy, etc. These
were for the bride-elect. For her father was a sword with a richly
mounted hilt and lacquered scabbard, hung with silken cords. The blade
alone of the sword was worth