poverty at the time of the Restoration, had to work as a servant. So she
was an old woman by this time. This old woman,--by what affinity, as
the Buddhists say, I don't know,--loved me a great deal. Strange,
indeed! She was almost blindly fond of me,--me, whom mother, became
thoroughly disgusted with three days before her death; whom father
considered a most aggravating proposition all the year round, and whom
the neighbors cordially hated as the local bully among the youngsters. I
had long reconciled myself to the fact that my nature was far from being
attractive to others, and so didn't mind if I were treated as a piece of
wood; so I thought it uncommon that Kiyo should pet me like that.
Sometimes in the kitchen, when there was nobody around, she would praise
me saying that I was straightforward and of a good disposition. What she
meant by that exactly, was not clear to me, however. If I were of so
good a nature as she said, I imagined those other than Kiyo should
accord me a better treatment. So whenever Kiyo said to me anything of
the kind, I used to answer that I did not like passing compliments. Then
she would remark; "That's the very reason I say you are of a good
disposition," and would gaze at me with absorbing tenderness. She seemed
to recreate me by her own imagination, and was proud of the fact. I felt
even chilled through my marrow at her constant attention to me.

After my mother was dead, Kiyo loved me still more. In my simple
reasoning, I wondered why she had taken such a fancy to me. Sometimes I
thought it quite futile on her part, that she had better quit that sort
of thing, which was bad for her. But she loved me just the same. Once
in, a while she would buy, out of her own pocket, some cakes or
sweetmeats for me. When the night was cold, she would secretly buy some
noodle powder, and bring all unawares hot noodle gruel to my bed; or
sometimes she would even buy a bowl of steaming noodles from the
peddler. Not only with edibles, but she was generous alike with socks,