University of Virginia Library

XI.

“Jack is so sure of Uncle Phil's consenting. So am I, of course. At the same time, I do want to please him. I used to be able to domineer over and twist him round my little finger, but of late, since he came to Japan, I've noticed a tendency on his part—well, at times—to act with great independence and authority, and sometimes—even, to avoid me. He tells me to do this or that in a way I positively can't disobey. Oh, dear, Uncle Phil's changed some, that's sure. He doesn't chat with me like he used; he doesn't pet me up. Oh, I wish I was a little girl again, so I could creep back into his heart again. Nowadays I feel almost like a stranger to him. He is good to me, of course, but he keeps me somehow at a distance from him—and we used to be such chums before I left America. He is always looking at me, too, and I never know whether he is approving or disapproving of me. I hope he likes Jack. He has made fun of us sometimes, though. I'll just have to try my hand at jollying him up before I tell him. I'll get him in a good humor, and then—why, I never dreamed I[18] would need any courage to tell Uncle Phil anything. And yet, somehow—his eyes are so horribly keen, so critical at times, and then again so full of fun. And then he looks so ridiculously young, especially in his hunting and bicycle clothes. I am awfully proud of him. I declare I wish I was really his niece or his daughter. Dear me, I couldn't be that—I'm much too old. Uncle Phil's, let me see, thirty-three years old. That's pretty old. Ah! there he is coming up the road. I'm going to tell him this very minute—if—if—I can.”

Now, I'm sure that none of you ever gave the old jinrikisha credit for being a mind reader. But I am that, nevertheless. That's how I knew just what Mistress Koto was troubling her pretty head over.

Well, he, Phil Evans, came swinging down the road, while she was in the midst of this mental soliloquy. She, artful little minx, ran down the road to meet him, and took his arm in the most coaxing and loving way imaginable. In fact, I had never seen her so broadly loving and familiar with him before, barring, of course, when she was a little child in Japan and followed him round like his shadow.

“Oh, Uncle Phil,” she began, but he had quietly let his own arm fall so that her little hand had to drop from it also.

There was a peculiar expression on his face—hers was hurt, and she looked as though she were going to cry.

“Come and sit over here,” he said quietly, drawing a bench under a large tree. “Now, what is it? You want something, eh? Is that what all your palaver means? He was talking lightly.

His bantering words silenced the girl for a moment, and she sat on the bench, her eyes cast down, her hands nervously twisting her little handkerchief into knots.

He was standing up, one foot on the bench, and he was looking at her keenly, in the critical way that always made the girl nervous and afraid of him.

“Well, little girl,” his voice was tender, gentle and encouraging now.

“Ja—Jack—Mr. Carruthers—wants to marry me.”

It was out now, and she was blushing furiously, though her eyes were a trifle defiant, as though she expected him to ridicule, perhaps, laugh at her.

“Ah, indeed?” He took a cigar from his pocket, deliberately cut the end off, and lit it.

The hand that held it trembled ever so slightly, in spite of his apparent nonchalance.

“Yes—and—I thought I'd better ask you about it,” she added shyly, still blushing.

“You did!”

His answers were so enigmatical, it provoked the girl.

“Yes, I did, and why don't you say something?” Again, the defiant flash to the eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” This, very coolly.

“Why—why, I don't know, I'm sure.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Ye- es—no—yes—that is—I don't know, I'm sure.”

“H'm!”

“I—I think I am.”

“And you want my consent?” A touch of sarcasm might have been noticed here. It was strange, but since he had returned to Japan, these two seemed to be always disagreeing with each other, and a nameless, and I thought cruel, antipathy often seemed between them. It was the man's fault.

The girl's color had died out.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “I—I thought I owed it to you to have your consent before I answered him. I won't marry any one you disapprove of—or you don't want me to.”

She was very meek now, apparently. It made the man smile.

“Well, then, I disapprove of the Honorable Jack Carruthers.”

“What!” She had sprung breathlessly to her feet, all the blood rosy red in her face, her eyes flashing. “You—” It was certain now that she had not expected him to do otherwise than consent. She was indignant at his daring to speak slightingly of her Jack.

“What have you against him?”

“Oh, nothing in particular,” he answered laconically, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then—” her feeling choked her, “I believe you hate me,” she continued slowly, “and want to spite me for some reason- -I believe you—”

“Oh no, don't say that.”

“But it must be true, or—or—you would not be so cruel”— the angry tears filled her eyes now, and she was trembling.

Phil Evans threw the unsmoked cigar away, and took a step nearer to her. All the indifference, the critical scrutiny of the girl was gone now.

“Shall I tell you why I will not give my consent, not merely to your having this Jack, but to any one, in fact?”

“Yes, tell me,” and then something in his face frightened her, and she contradicted herself, shrinking back from him. “No, no, don't tell me.”

“Yes, I will. It's because I want you for myself. Because I love you—do you understand?”

He was white as death, and his face was close to hers.

“Oh, no, no, no, you don't mean that! Oh, Uncle Phil, no, no—think of it—it—oh, oh,—you love me! Don't look at me like that. I—no, no—don't touch me. Let me think—oh, Uncle Phil, let me go, ah!”

She broke loose from him, and ran like a beautiful, frightened fawn, into Komatsu's castle, and up to her own little room, for she was spending the day with them. There she threw herself down on the little couch, but she could not think—could not compose her wild thoughts. She tried to call up some anger against the man, but the anger was thrilled with a delight she had never known before. And Jack? he held no place in her thoughts. It was only—Uncle Phil, Phil, Phil, dear, dear, dear Phil. Just Phil—and she kissed the little hands that he had kissed, and went back and forth to the mirror to see the face he had kissed. Natsu knocked on the door, and called to her.

“Tha's a ledder for you, Koto.”

“A letter? What is that? Oh, yes. Come in. Yes, give it to me. Who is it from? Why, it's his writing. Let me see.”

She opened the envelope and read slowly, the first time not fully comprehending, and then again to make sure that she was not dreaming. Then she dropped the letter and sat down. It was quite short.

“Forgive me, little girl,” it ran. “I forgot myself but for a moment. It is all over now. Yes, marry Jack. He is a fine young fellow, and you have my consent.”

She picked the letter up, and read it over again, and smiled as she read and kissed and cried over it a little while. Her sister had left her alone. She put her hat on her head and ran down the stairs.

“Natsu, I—I'm going to the hotel. I have some business to attend to.”

“Ah, yaes. Bud tha's too lade goin' to thad hotel.”

“Oh, no, I feel so good and—and nervous. It will do me good—the walk.”

“You certainly can't walk it,” put in Komatsu Taro, “and I may not accompany you, as I have an important meeting to attend this evening. Moreover, all the vehicles are in use.”

“Let me ride in this beautiful old one—our grandfather's,” said Koto, daringly, speaking half at random.

To her astonishment Komatsu agreed to this, saying that I was practically as strong as a new vehicle, even if a trifle heavy. And this was how I came to witness their second meeting.

They sent word to him that she was waiting outside in the jinrikisha to see him, that she had not the time to come in. And he came down to the gate of the hotel garden where we were waiting.

It was twilight, and the air was sweet and balmy.

“You have come all this way so late?” he asked her.

“Yes, come, get into it, too. There are two runners, and I have something to tell you.” He obeyed her passively. As soon as the runners started, she commenced again.

“What did you write that letter for?”

“I did not wish to be the one nightmare amidst your happiness,” he said in a low voice.

She had lost all her shyness of the afternoon.

“And why—why would you be a nightmare?”

“You confessed to your love—for—”

“No, did I? If I did so, I mistook my own heart. I haven't confessed to my love for any one yet. I will now. Uncle Philip—no, Phil, will—will you take me in your arms again, and kiss me as you did this afternoon?”

* * *

His sister Beryl and her husband wrote them long letters urging against the folly of their marrying, because of the girl's extreme youth. Even Komatsu Taro urged them to wait a while, but Natsu was wildly delighted at it all, and her little romantic soul was full.

“I am going back to school for one year,” Koto told her, “I am eighteen now. He—he wants me to go, and, oh, Natsu, he will come to see me lots, and live near me, and, it's to please his sister, you know, but I don't believe we'll really be able to wait out the year, will we?” she turned to Phil, blushing so beautifully.

“No,” he said, catching his breath.