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"No! no!" persisted Omassa with gentle obstinacy, "he tell me always true, he very poor, good man he got only one name, my Frank Sen." "There," cried Mrs. Holmes, triumphantly, "you see he has two names after all, you have just called him by them both Frank Sen." At which the invalid sent forth a tinkling laugh of amusement, crying: "Oh, that not one man's name, oh, no! That Sen that like your Mr.
And then she smoothed a tiny wrinkle out of the white quilt, shut out the sunlight, and, smiling kindly back at her, left Omassa, who obediently fell asleep partly because her life was one of obedience, and partly because there was nothing else to do. And then began the acquaintance between Mrs. Helen Holmes, nurse, and Omassa, Japanese acrobat.
"But," persisted Omassa, "you know him, or how could you speak his name?" "I learned the name from you, child, when you talked in the fever. I am very sorry I have caused you a disappointment. I am to blame for my curiosity forgive me."
Mrs.; you nurse-lady, you Holmes Sen. Ito big Japan fight man, he Ito Sen, you unnerstand me, nurse-lady?" "Yes, child, I understand. Sen is a title, a term of respect, and you like to show your friend Frank all the honour you can, so you call him Frank Sen." And Omassa with unconscious slanginess gravely answered: "You right on to it at first try. He gamble all time.
At last the ambulance, then the all-concealing curtain, the reviving music, a song, a pretty dance, and presto, all was forgotten! When Omassa opened her eyes, her brain took up work just where it had left off; therefore she was astonished to find the sun shining, for had she not seen the sun go out quite black in the sky? Yet here it was so bright, and she was was, where?
'Twas long before his name was mentioned again; but one day something had been said of friends, when Omassa with intense pride had exclaimed: "I have got my own self one friend he my friend Frank." "What's his other name?" asked the nurse. "Oh, he very poor, he got only one name." "But, dear, he must have another name, he is Frank somebody or something."
Holmes; yet when, that kind woman stooped to kiss her once, Omassa shrank from the caress with such repugnance as deeply to wound her, until the little Japanese had explained to her the national abhorrence of kissing, assuring her over and over again that even "the Japan ma'ma not kiss little wee baby she love." Mrs.
"Omassa, who is Frank?" and then fairly jumped at the change in the ivory-tinted, expressionless face. Her long, narrow eyes glowed, a pink stain came on either cheek, she raised herself a little on her best arm, eagerly she cried, "You know him oh, you know Frank?" Regretfully Mrs. Holmes answered, "No, dear, I don't know him."
Little Omassa had leaped too soon, the small brown hands with power to save were not extended. She grasped the empty air, gave a despairing cry, and as she whirled downward, had barely time to realize that the sun had gone black out in the sky, and that the world with its shrieking millions was thundering to its end, when the awful crash came.
"But," resumed Omassa, with perfect conviction, "Frank Sen meaned goodness for me when he called me 'wave' I know that. What you think that big American man do for help me little Japan baby with no sense? Well, I will tell you.
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