At last, just as an ominous mass of black clouds had spread itself over
the heavens, against which the brilliant colors of the signs and the
people's clothes stood out in bold relief, they started for home. But on
the outskirts of the city great drops of rain pelted them in the face,
the advance scouts of a tremendous downpour.

"Oh, Komatsu, we will ruin our clothes," cried Miss Campbell in alarm.
"You must take us somewhere until the rain is over."

They were passing the high walls of a garden, the gate of which stood
open. Without an instant's hesitation Komatsu turned in and the three
'rikshas raced up a broad walk toward a Japanese house at the end.
Several smiling hospitable persons whom they took to be servants ran out
with large umbrellas made of oiled paper and protected the five ladies,
who hurried unceremoniously into the house just as the heavens opened and
the rain came down in bucketfuls.

Three Japanese ladies, seated on the floor drinking tea, rose quickly and
made low formal bows. The five refugees from the storm returned the bows
with some bewilderment.

"I do hope you will pardon this intrusion," Miss Campbell found herself
saying. "The storm was so sudden and terrible, we fled to the nearest
house."

One of the little Japanese ladies bowed. She was evidently the mistress
of the house, but she spoke no English.

Miss Campbell pointed outside to the rain and made expressive signs
indicative of haste. It was really like being in a deaf and dumb asylum.