and queerly chosen words, Onoye smiled sweetly. That is the only polite
thing for a well brought up Japanese girl to do even when her own
misfortunes are the subject of the conversation.

"What a shame," Billie exclaimed sympathetically. "I should think you
would learn something, some trade, I mean, Onoye. You are much too clever
to be a housemaid. But I suppose you will marry. I hear there are no old
maids in Japan."

Onoye shook her head and smiled sadly. Perhaps she did not understand
Billie's remark because she did not reply.

"Old maid, Onoye, is one who never marries," explained Nancy at the
dressing table arranging her hair.

"Ah, Komatsu old maid. He not marry."

"No, no, Komatsu is a man," said Billie trying not to laugh. "Old maid is
a woman who has no husband, like Miss Campbell."

"Old maid," repeated Onoye, and because of what happened that very
evening, it was evident that the retentive Japanese memory had not lost
the words.

In the afternoon there came a characteristic note from Mr. Campbell to
his cousin.

"Tell O'Haru to put on the big pot and the little," it ran, "and to kill
the fatted calf. I am going to cheer up my gloomy household by bringing
four men home to dinner. If it were not for these flimsy little card