University of Virginia Library

8. Chapter VIII

Edith closed the doors, and now with her back to them, she stood almost rigidly facing Jamison Tyrrell and the Japanese girl she had befriended. The latter was clinging with both her hands, like a child, to the man's arm, and in the dimly lighted hall, her little pale face seemed both pitiful and appealing.

With an exclamation of relief, Jamison started toward Edith.

“Jove! I'm glad to see you, Edith,” he began. “Look at this poor little--”

Edith interrupted him gruffly.

“You don't have to explain anything to me, Jamison. I know already, and I want you to go inside to your mother, while I prepare Spring-morning.”

The young man hesitated, looking somewhat anxiously at the Japanese girl, whose two little hands closed in a firmer grip about his arm. When he made a motion to release his arm, Spring-morning clung the closer, and Jamison, touched more than he cared for Edith to know, and amused, made a wry face.

“You know,” went on Edith coolly, “it would hardly do for your mother to see you--like this.”

She stepped firmly up to them, and taking the girl by the arm, gently drew her away.

“I want to speak to you, Spring-morning,” she said kindly, as the girl started to follow Jamison. “Go!” she nodded to Jamison. “We will follow in just a minute.”

As the doors closed upon the white man, the little Japanese girl continued to stare at them with a certain dull pathos, her pretty lip quivering like that of a child. At that moment she felt she should not be separated even temporarily from that one who had come to her like a veritable savior there at the gates of the Yoshiwara. The long journey through the streets, always supported by his strong arm, listening eagerly to words she could only partly understand, but which she knew were kind, was something Spring-morning knew she could never forget. But now she had lost him--as it seemed to her, and not even the sweet white woman who had been her friend previously could take his place to Spring-morning. She began to sob, in a desolate, hopeless way.

“Listen to me, dear,” said Edith, putting an arm about the girl and turning her about so that she now faced her and not the doors.

“I lig' speag ag'in ad Eijin-san,” said the girl pathetically. “I forget tell thank you unto him. I lig' speag those thangs.”

“I will thank him for you,” said Edith coolly, “or better still, you may thank his mother yourself. Now, Spring-

morning, I want you to listen to me. Would you like to live in this house for a while?”

“Theese house!” repeated the Japanese girl, with an odd mixture of joy and wonder in her voice. After all, then, it was still possible that she might remain near this wonderful Eijin-san.

“Yes--this house.”

“House of Eijin-san?” quickly demanded Spring-morning, the tears drying like magic upon her face.

“The house of his mother,” said Edith coldly. “If you wish, if you do what I tell you, you may remain here and work for the mother of the Eijin-san, and you must try to please her and do whatever she wishes.”

Spring-morning clasped her hands excitedly and ecstatically together.

“I lig' do those!” she cried. “I lig' worg for honorable mother of Eijin-san! I be liddle slave unto her!” “Yes, that is how I want you to feel,” said Edith. “You are going to wait on--to serve her--not the Eijin-san! You will be sent away if you try to serve him. It is the Okusama- -his mother--you are to please--not him!”

“Not the Eijin-san?” repeated Spring-morning, shaking her head drearily, “--no--no please those Eijin-san?”

“You will please him,” said Edith, “by pleasing his mother. And remember, it is better not to speak to the Eijin- san, or even to look at him, save when absolutely necessary. If you wish to remain here you must remember these things, and if you wish to please the Okusama, you must forget that there is anyone else in the house at all save she. Now can you do that?”

Very forlorn and woeful was the expression now on the little Japanese girl's face. She seemed for a moment to turn the matter over in her mind; then with a little nod of assent she said:

“I do those t'ings you say. Me? I jos' wan' be near those Eijin-san! Thas—all!”

Edith frowned, and her shoulders went up in a slight shrug of impatience, but as though making the best of the matter, she now led the girl to the doors.

“Come, then. I am going to take you to your mistress.”

She stepped in first herself. At the same time, at a sign from his mother, Jamison Tyrrell passed out of the room through another door, leaving the three women alone together. It was apparent that he had told his mother of the presence of the Japanese girl in their house. Mrs. Tyrrell had arisen from her seat, and as Spring-morning came shyly out from behind Miss Latimer, her back unconsciously stiffened. She put on her glasses, but ere she could even look the little Japanese girl over, the latter ran impetuously toward her and slipped humbly to her knees. Now, bowing repeatedly at the feet of the American woman, Spring- morning sought to show at once her desire to serve the august one in all things.

“Is this the girl, Edith?”

Mrs. Tyrrell's voice was harsh. She addressed herself directly to Miss Latimer, and the latter, her face very grave, nodded.

“Yes, Mrs. Tyrrell.”

“She understands what she is here for?”

“I told her she is to work for you--to do anything you wish.”

“Ah!” Then, in a lower voice: “I can find plenty of work for her to do.” Then to Spring-morning, whose head was still meekly on the floor: “You may get up now, my good girl, and if you will follow me to my room, I will show you just what I wish you to do for me to-night.”

Edith went to Spring-morning, and tapped her upon the shoulder, half impatiently, half kindly.

“The Okusama says you may stand up. I thought you understood English.”

The girl scrambled to her feet hastily, and turned an eager, smiling face upon her mistress. The latter was yielding to the fond embrace of Miss Latimer, who, with both arms about the neck of the older woman, was whispering to her reassuringly. Then with a hearty kiss, she released her.

“Good-night,” she said, in her bright, brave voice, and then to Spring-morning: “You will not forget what I told you, will you, dear?” she queried gravely.

“No--I nod forgetting,” said the

Japanese girl, shaking her head solemnly. “I mekin my eye blind ad those Eijin-san.” And she showed a row of tiny teeth, dazzlingly white, in a smile that unconsciously won both of the women looking at her.