"I think Nankipooh has come to call," whispered Billie, as the vehicle drew near.

The girls hid themselves behind a clump of shrubbery and peeped through the branches.

"He's bringing gifts," whispered Elinor.

The 'riksha had drawn up at the piazza and the two runners, after the personage in fancy dress had descended, lifted out a very aged and no doubt extremely costly dwarfed apple tree growing in a green vase, and a lacquered box.

One of the ever-watchful domestics opened the door and into the hall stalked the visitor, followed by his retainers.

"I think he must be a messenger from the Emperor, nothing less," said Billie. "He's so awfully grand."

"Perhaps he's the Mikado himself," said Mary.

The others laughed again and even Nancy forgot her troubles and joined in.

"I declare I feel as if I had settled down to live on a j.a.panese fan,"

continued Billie. "Everything is like a decoration. I can't imagine anything really serious ever happening, it's all so gay and pretty and the people are like dolls."

"Here comes one of your live dolls," observed Mary, pointing to Onoye, who was hastening toward them down the path, the skirts of her flowered kimono blowing about her ankles as she walked.

She made straight for the group of girls and falling on her knees before Nancy, touched her forehead to the ground.

"What is it, Onoye?" asked Nancy, blushing and paling and blushing again with some hidden emotion.

"Gracious lady, warn-ings," she began slowly, as if she had just learned the words from a book.

"What on earth?" Nancy asked.

"Gracious lady, warn-ings," repeated Onoye, in a monotonous voice.

"What do you mean, Onoye?" demanded Billie. "Don't kneel. Stand up and tell us all about it."

"No explaining words to make understanding. Make prayer to honorable Mees Nancee."

"But what about?" asked Nancy, puzzled and troubled at the same time.

"Dee-vorce," answered Onoye, and then touching her forehead to the ground, she rose quickly and glided away.

It was so absurd that they were obliged to laugh, and yet they felt that the j.a.panese girl was entirely serious in what she was trying to tell.

"Can't we call her back and ask her some more questions?" suggested Elinor.

"We might, but I doubt if she would say another word," answered Billie.

"They never will tell more than they have to, you know, and I daresay she thinks she's told all that is necessary."

"I think she's got hold of the wrong words," put in Mary. "Do you remember how she called Miss Campbell 'the honorable old maid'?"

"She has had something on her mind a long time," said Billie thoughtfully. "She's a queer little soul. You don't think she could be a bit daffy, do you?"

"I never saw any signs of it," said Nancy. "But I do wish she had explained why I was to be warned. Perhaps she's got that word wrong, too."

"The truth is, the j.a.panese use synonyms instead of the words themselves.

That's why their English is so queer," remarked Mary, better trained in English than any of the others and with a remarkably good vocabulary when she could be persuaded to talk. "Now a synonym of 'to warn' is 'to summon.' Maybe Onoye wanted to tell you that some one wished to see you."

Nancy was silent. She vaguely connected Onoye's visit with Mme. Fontaine and the note, because her thoughts constantly dwelt on those disquieting subjects.

The girls lingered for some time in the garden until they saw the j.a.panese gentleman in fancy dress riding away in his 'riksha, preceded by his two runners. Once more Onoye approached them down one of the shady garden walks. Once more she paused in front of Nancy and prostrating herself, announced:

"The honorable master in libraree to Mees Brown."

Nancy turned as white as a sheet.

"Why, Nancy, don't be frightened. I am sure it's nothing serious," said Billie, putting her arm around her friend's waist.

Except for that first greeting when Billie had returned after her search for Nancy, it was the first time the two girls had stood thus since the letter episode, and it was too much for poor, contrite Nancy, who burst into tears.

"She thinks it's bad news from home," said Mary, leaning a cheek sympathetically against Nancy's shoulder, while Elinor pressed her hand and exclaimed:

"Dearest, dearest Nancy, I'm sure it's nothing sad. Don't cry."

If anything could have made Nancy more wretched, it was the sympathy of her three friends.

"I don't deserve it, I don't deserve it!" she sobbed, and except for Billie, they had not the remotest idea what she meant.

And now in the midst of this highly emotional scene appeared Miss Helen Campbell accompanied by Messrs. Campbell, Buxton, Carlton and Grimm.

There was an arch and knowing smile on Miss Campbell's face as she tripped along the walk holding a lavender parasol over her head, and the four men were grinning broadly. Nancy dried her tears quickly. They never left any traces on her face nor red rims around her eyelids as with most people, and except that she was unusually pale, no one would have guessed that her lachrymal ducts had been overflowing only a moment before.

"Well, well, Miss Nancy, I am afraid we shall have to put smoked gla.s.ses over those pretty blue eyes of yours before they cause any more mischief in j.a.pan," exclaimed Mr. Campbell.

"Oh, you little witch," cried Miss Campbell, pinching Nancy's cheek, "what shall I do with you, making eyes at these Orientals who don't understand?"

"But what--" began Nancy.

"I know," cried Mary, the gleam of romance in her eyes, "I know now.

She's gone and got proposed to by a j.a.panese gentleman!"

"But who?" cried all the girls together, br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with curiosity.

"Why, Mr. Yoritomo Ito, of course," replied Miss Campbell. "He dressed up in his best j.a.panese fancy costume and brought presents and servants and came to ask formally for the hand of Mistress Anne Starbuck Brown."

"Why, the impudent thing," exclaimed Nancy. "Did he think--could he imagine for a moment--"

She broke off, too indignant to express herself. Then her eyes encountered Billie's and she dropped them in embarra.s.sment. They were both thinking of the same thing; the two notes left under a stone at the shrine and the rainy meeting in the garden. After all, perhaps Yoritomo might have thought she liked him--but the idea was intolerable and Nancy thrust it aside.

"How would you like to be mother-in-lawed by Mme. Ito, Nancy?" asked Elinor.

"And sleep with your head on a bench and eat with chop sticks?" continued Mary.

"You would probably have to do all those things if you married Mr.