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It was one covering only one which cried out. The rest were silent. He took the covering into his own room, and for the remainder of the night lay down beneath it. And the voices continued until the hour of dawn: 'Ani-San samukaro? 'Omae samukaro? So that he could not sleep. But at break of day he rose up and went out to find the owner of the furuteya at which the futon had been purchased.
But the guest, having slept but a very little while, was aroused by the sound of voices in his room voices of children, always asking each other the same questions: 'Ani-San samukaro? 'Omae samukaro? The presence of children in his room might annoy the guest, but could not surprise him, for in these Japanese hotels there are no doors, but only papered sliding screens between room and room.
Wondering, he lay down again, leaving the light still burning; and immediately the voices spoke again, complainingly, close to his pillow: 'Ani-San samukaro? 'Omae samukaro? Then, for the first time, he felt a chill creep over him, which was not the chill of the night. Again and again he heard, and each time he became more afraid. For he knew that the voices were in the futon!
And a day came when they had nothing to eat; and the rent was not paid. The terrible Dai-kan had arrived, the season of greatest cold; and the snow had drifted too high that day for them to wander far from the little house. So they could only lie down under their one futon, and shiver together, and compassionate each other in their own childish way 'Ani-San, samukaro? 'Omae samukaro?
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