June, 1911. Of course he
is right. So it is fortifying against invasion. Later on, when Jack came to, we talked it
over. That is, the heat and the discussion was all on my side. Well, that 's just what I am doing. I saw Jack off at the station, and went hack to the little house. Well,
everything was just the same. The only difference was Jack. . . . . . I shall have had my day." It was no use. The struggle was easy and swift. I asked her to come with me as maid. But I know you. So hurry up. Let us get it off our minds. STILL AT SEA. June, 1911. I 'd do it again. The child was found by Susan West who came from a neighboring town
to care for the sick and hungry. But
she hoped to do much more. but I am
hoping guardian angels are "really truly," even if invisible. Good night, Mate. PACIFIC OCEAN. But the name is bigger than the man. Of course he picked up a bit on electricity, mechanics,
etc. But I did not know Dolly. She rose like a
doughnut. So far as Sada is concerned, it is admiration
gone to waste. Later. All the very good people are in bed. Indeed, she liked to dance. I looked in her face for signs. Outside I hear the little Prince pacing up and down, yielding up
his soul to holy meditations. But unfinished packing, a bath and coffee are
awaiting me. YOKOHAMA, July, 1911. Now that I am here, I am trying to decide what to do with myself. The air was heavy with incense. I fumed. I stood still, waiting
for some glimmer of recognition. Oh, no! Before I left the steamer, I had a surprise in the way of Uncles. I had been pointed out as Sada's
friend. For I know what I want to
say and what they ought to say. But when they come at me with a
flank movement, as it were, I am lost. Of course Jack and I were much more sensible, but that whole
blessed time is wrapped in rosy mists with streaks of moonlight to
the tune of heavenly music, so it 's futile to try to recall just
what did happen. How I wished for you, Mate! It was
a fairy-story come true, dragons and all. Mate, this is a land of contrasts and contradictions. Instantly the spell of the East was over me. Real life was not. NIKKO, July, 1911. One is as inevitable as the other,
and both are served in quantities. Certainly I pay for it. I went to a
quaint little inn--that was mostly out!--built over a fussy brook;
and a pine tree grew right out of the side of the house. I went closer and read the English inscription, "Dorothy
Dale. Aged 2 years." July, 1911. Of course it is raining. Guess I should have stayed at home, as Jack told me, but
I am glad I did not. He is a smart lad. He
grasped my meaning immediately, and wrote it down in a little book. I dare
say. I have not dared to give her any suggestion of warning. If I am to help her, the shock of
disillusionment must come from some other direction. Oh, well! I waved
them good wishes and went on, amused and not a little troubled. Worried over Sada, hungry for Jack, lonesome for you. It is called "Baku, the
eater of evil dreams." Write me about the only man, the kiddies and your own blessed happy
self. I agree with Charity. STILL AT NIKKO, August, 1911. Oh,
these, men! As long as I am here though, he wants me to
have as good a time as possible. Jack has
been in Peking. Jack is in Mukden now, where he is about to lose his mind with joy
over the prospect of looking straight in the eye--if it has
one--this wicked old germ with a new label, and telling it what he
thinks. The interpretation is wholly
mine. But I dare not be serious over it. Of course the bare suggestion of a bath might prove more
fatal than the plague, for oftener than not the hunters are used
only as a method of travel by the merry microbe and are immune from
the effects. Of course Jack has all sorts of theories as to why
this is so. He works in heavy gloves. Yes, I
know I said Japan only. What a happy day it has been. Here is your letter, just come. There is not time for me to add another word to this letter. What
a dear you are, to love while you lecture me. What you say is all
true. SHOJI LAKE, August, 1911. Our path was high up, but right over the water. If a tree got in our way as we flew, so much the worse for
us. It is funny now, but it was not at the time! My Colorado Irishman is not only a darling, but a
hero. Below lay Shoji, its shimmering waters rimmed with velvety green. He is going to Mukden. Of course I told him all about Jack's work. I am
going to give him a letter to Jack. For the first time I went into that
beautiful, _beautiful_ place my Uncle calls "the Flower Blooming"
tea-house. It was more like a fairy palace. How the girls, who
live there, laughed at my guitar. I finished singing, there was clapping and loud
_banzais_. Uncle met me. For the first time he was cross and ordered me
back to the play place, where I was to stay until he came for me. He
may have money, but he is not over-burdened with manners. He can
out-stare an owl." Good-by, Mate. September, 1911. I am in a monastery, Mate, but only temporarily, thank you. Later. Well; anyway I am in a hurry. KIOTO, September, 1911. She was
changed--sad, and a little drooping. It was inevitable. He stayed right where he was. It is going to be a game with
the girl as the prize. He has cunning and authority to back
him, and I have only my love for Sada. It was an untruth and he knew that I knew it, but it
was courteous and I looked easy. At least, it would
have been delightful had I not been so anxious to see Sada alone. At least, not then. But Hara, she learned, had gone away. Ah, I knew I was right. Write him. Tell him." In the guise of host, he is charming. That is, if only he would not always talk with dropped eyelids,
giving the impression that he is half dreaming and is only partly
conscious of the world and its follies. But then, Jack says, my artistic temperament will never
keep me awake at night. Now I decided all at once to make a
collection. It was all
exquisitely, daintily, lawfully Japanese. I cabled Jack, "Hiroshima for winter." He answered, "Thank the Lord you are nailed down at last." October, 1911. I have to shake myself to realize
that it is not the long ago, but now. Same little room, in the same old mission school. Same wall paper,
so blue it turned green. I would not dare guess how
many girls there were to meet me. That ceremony over, they charged down upon
me in an avalanche of gaiety. Plain happy. It was she, you remember, who in all those other years was my
faithful secretary and general comforter. It comes off in a few weeks. But it is good
for the constitution and is satisfying to the soul. He gives me
statistics also. Wish he wouldn't. He tells me, too, of an English woman who has joined the insect
expedition. And he has to sit up nights studying, to keep up
with her. I dare say. I am playing for time. That is, if I cared for Suky. But it is anything
for conversation now. He gave me a radiant greeting. "How
are you, _Tanaka_?" quoth I. "All same like damn monkey,
_Sensei_," he replied. I love you for it. HIROSHIMA, October, 1911. When I opened my eyes, there they stood. Twenty-five
happy faces smiling into mine, and twenty babies to match. It was
the kiddies that saved the day. Then everybody giggled. The baby question was quickly settled. On each we put a baby, feet fireward. Then we talked. Each girl had a story to tell, either of herself or some one we had
known together. Over many we laughed. One girl, Miss Deserted Lobster Field, was missing. I asked about
her and this is her story. It
is difficult to re-marry these offcasts. But the wedding of weddings is the one which took place last
summer, by suggestion. She is married all right. There will be no further ceremony. I would not dare tell you all the stories they told me. Be happy always to yourself). My gratitude to this little country is great, Mate. It has given
me much. November, 1911. Thank you for your letter. My last glimpse of him was in
Nikko. Poor little chap. He was permitted to walk for a moment. The bantam knew no royalty, pursued also. We have just had a
wedding tea. My answer was, "Why Sensei! I am too tired, then, to think. I have put away all my vanity clothes. Now he is so sorry, all the pink has gone out of his
cheeks. In the
afternoon the boy is so in evidence, we almost fall over him if we
step. It may come to that. There is hope, however. Well, maybe _I_ should have studied science. It is too late now. HIROSHIMA. When he last wrote, he
was going to some remote district out from Mukden. Sada is here. For the first few days of her visit, she was like an escaped
prisoner. For the first time he definitely stated
his plans. She had no money, no place to go, and Uncle
was the only relative she had in the world. It was late evening. For the first time in our talks, she avoided Billy's name. I gently asked her to tell
me of him. He loved her. He
wanted her. Maybe he had
married. She could not write now. No, she _could not_ tell him. If she persists, there is
always force. So I am, and, I pray Heaven, in some way to his
undoing. The child has no other friend. I hope so. Preparation will take time. I put Sada to bed. There she lies now. I asked for a pan. No, if it was all the same I would rather
have a flat pan with a rim. Well, there was not
very much difference in the taste of the biscuit. Then he sent us all a
present. HIROSHIMA, December, 1911. England is with him. Neither do I care. I do
not like it a little bit. The idea. No, Jack has lost
his head over intellect. Of course you are laughing at me. So would Jack. And both would
say it is unworthy. That's just it. Work. Work and dig, till
there is not an ounce of strength left for worry. I am not in a very poetical mood. On my way home, in the river close to shore, is a crazy little
tea-house. While I eat, she
tells me stories of the river life. At other times, two cents is the limit. It is all so simple
and childlike, so free from pretension, hurry and rush. If it sticks you will
be lucky. Jack is in Siberia and Uncle has Sada. I have not heard from her
since she left. January, 1912. NANKOW, CHINA. February, 1912. I am on my way to
the terminus of the railroad, from where the message was sent. Maybe they are better so. But then, they
have never known Jack. KALGAN. There is no hotel. To this he had been moved. Her last message for the day had been, "The crisis will soon be
passed." But I was not to worry. Their quiet voices
soothed me. Prom exhaustion I slept. When I woke, my watch said
one o'clock. My decision was quick. I would go, and alone. For life or for death, I was going to Jack. It was a handless leper. I saw the
stumps as they flew at me. Sick with horror, I fled and found an
open place. The light still beckoned. The way was heavy with high, drifted
sand. It
was a telegraph pole. I opened
it. And so the crisis was safely passed. I take it all back, Mate. I am too polite to say it, but I have had a taste of the place you
spell with four letters. Also of Heaven. And take it from me,
beloved, he never will. He sends love to you. PEKING, February, 1912. But write you
I must. I have not an idea what he will do when he gets to Japan,
or how I will help him; but he is my one hope. One of the geisha girls in the tea-house slipped in one night and
told Sada. She went at once to Uncle and asked him if it was true. Upon Sada telling him she would
die before she would marry the man, he laughed at her. I do not expect to reform the country,
neither am I arguing. I cannot write any more. I am too agitated to be entertaining. Uncle will be sure to. I dare him to solve the puzzle of my fancy writing. Cable just received. PEKING, CHINA, February, 1912. Verily, these are strenuous days
for this perplexed woman. She is crying for the mercy
she never showed, begging for time she never granted. If only the
responsible ones could suffer. But it is the poor, the innocent
and the old who pay the price for the greed of the others. The night we came there
was a run on the banks caused by the report that Peking was to be
looted and burned. One of the prisoners was his father. Jack was asleep. We had no such
order. The effect was magical. Rest and sleep are impossible. The Revolutionists
have the railroads, the bandits the rivers. Good night. PEKING, Next day. At least, the dripping wet will
secure me a quiet hour or so. She was
radiant. I was glad to see them, and more than
glad to see Dolly's unfeigned happiness. But, bless you, he was neither troubled nor out of place. Her
answering laugh, sweet and friendly, was reassuring. Across the way,
a Manchu Prince. But the Irishman was not happy. Course after course had been
served. He was a teetotaler. 1, who served the
wine, approached, he whispered, "Water." Fetch me
water." It was vain pleading. Next day. Honey, there is a thrill a minute. It matters not where you go, but hustle; and I
don't want any back talk while you are doing it." He not
only scorned her, but he deserted her. The night came. When
they cannot, the Lord help the least one of us. Our bodyguard is
the room-boy. Allee samee
bimeby, Missy, I make you tea." Then a
soft tap comes at my door and a very gentle voice says, "Missy, I
make you tea." He comes in, brews the leaves, then drops on his haunches
and looks into the fire. Good night, beloved Mate. By the way, I start for Japan tomorrow. KIOTO HOTEL, KIOTO, March, 1912. Sing psalms and give thanks. Be calm and I will tell you about it. That is, Billy did the questioning; I did the
talking to the mystic chanting of the priests. I passed an impatient, tedious afternoon. This was his suggestion. I asked for Sada. I showed him my print. At once he was the
eager, interested artist and he went into a long history of the
picture. It was my last chance. I had been in the house an hour, and had
accomplished nothing. Uncle had. I asked
if I might see it then. When he appeared with
his print, I began to talk. He smoothed out his precious picture. I fell upon it. Uncle needed
absorption, concentration and occupation. I said, "Sayonara," and smiled my sweetest. I went to the gate. It faced two streets. Both were empty. HIROSHIMA, Five Days Later, 1912. It made me creepy and cold, yet I
was amused. We were tuning up
for the business in hand. Easy. Easier. Muchly. Did not have any. My husband was in China. I was. No explanation. I was just here. No, color-prints interested me more. No, only the Legislature. At this both men looked puzzled. I did
not know. After a grilling of an hour or so they left
me, looking worried and perplexed. March 15. It is a gladsome tale
they tell. PEKING, APRIL, 1912. What crowded, happy weeks these last have been.