Then the little lady smiled again and bowed again, and the others bowed.

"Good heavens, Billie, what am I to do? Must I continue to smile and bob
and bow forever? Do come to my rescue!"

But the hospitable hostess now hurried from the room and presently
reappeared followed by her maids, each of whom carried a little lacquered
table. It was indicated that the American guests would confer a favor if
they would seat themselves.

"I've never sat on the floor in my life," complained Miss Campbell in a
low voice. "It will kill me. I am certain it will displace a ligament."

"You'll just have to, Cousin. Try sitting on your feet. That's the way
they do."

"I think tailor-fashion would be easier," answered the poor lady. "Don't
help me. They might take it for rudeness. Everything is bad manners in
this country."

Crossing her feet, she slid slowly to the floor. The visitors were
promptly served with delicious tea, rice cakes, candied fruits and other
confections molded and colored like the flowers in season.

Certainly that was one of the most silent and ceremonious tea parties
ever given. It was all dumb show, but the manners of the three Japanese
ladies were exquisite. While this excruciatingly polite scene transpired,
there raged such a storm of wind and rain that at each moment they feared
the fragile bamboo and rice paper abode would be blown from its slight
foundations.