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Updated: June 1, 2025
But Yuki Chan was banished from these joys of preparation because of naughtiness, and as she lay in the warm sunshine she thought of her recent wickedness. She smiled as she remembered how she had hid her father's pipe that he might work the faster, and broken the straps of her mother's wooden shoes, so that she could not go outdoors.
Nothing there had been touched, for the old mother claimed that to set a room in order too soon after a guest's departure was to sweep out all luck with him. The girl entered and stood, a ghostly image, in the soft and tender light of the great autumn moon as it lay against the paper doors and filled the tiny room. Through the half-light Yuki San saw many touches of the late inmate's personality.
Where's your mama, or your papa, or your nurse, to give you a spanking and keep you off the street?" As he talked Yuki Chan grew fascinated watching his mouth, and forgot, for a moment, her direful intention. The cat, again taking advantage of her relaxed hold, began to tug for freedom, and a lively struggle ensued.
After much effort, he succeeded in forcing his swollen feet into his boots. In the midst Yuki, the Jap cook, appeared before the low entrance of the tent and sank down on his knees to set a trayful of food beside the occupant. He hissed a pleasant, "Good morning, Mistah Lafe!" and was gone before Ashton could reply.
Yuki Chan knew them all by heart, and she lingered before those she liked and quickly passed those she did not care for. She could not be rude to an emperor, even though he had been dead hundreds of years. She was really not very afraid of the greatness of the old doll men and women who sat on the shelf, still it was well to be careful about handling them.
Yuki San was called before her father and told, in ceremonious language, that a marriage had been arranged for her with Saito San, a wealthy officer in the Emperor's household. She laid her head upon the mats and gave thanks to the gods. Now her father and mother would live in luxury for the rest of their lives!
The father, grown old and feeble, gave up the battle for existence, and being a devout Buddhist, turned his thoughts upon Nirvana, which he strove diligently to enter by perpetual meditation and prayer. The mother, used to guidance and unable to think or plan for herself, turned helplessly to Yuki San.
When I write these letters Merrit San is far away at sea on the way of his home. He will have joyful time. I wish I can see her, that girl with the laugh in her eyes. Wonder how she thinks of Japan. Perhaps she would think how small and lonely country and people. One girl in that Japanese country very sad with lonely. But Merrit San say: "Yuki San, you good girl, you be good wife."
They knew as well as he that they were returning to the waterhole. As the campers again sat down to their supper Isobel paused with the coffeepot upraised. "Genevieve," she inquired, "did you put cream on the list?" "Why, no, my dear. It did not occur to me." "Nor may it to Yuki. He will be sure to send eggs and butter, but unless he thinks to save tonight's cream I'll run and tell Kid."
There were the Sano-uji of Shimotsuke, Mutsu, and Dewa; and there were the Kondo, the Muto, the Koyama, and the Yuki, all in different parts of the Kwanto. In fact, the empire outside the capital was practically divided between the Minamoto, the Taira, and the Fujiwara families, so that anything like a feud could scarcely fail to have wide ramifications.
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