CHAPTER IX

A RAINY DAY

"Rain, rain, rain," said Mary Lee looking disconsolately out of the window a few mornings after the day of the Boy's Festival. "It certainly is discouraging. We have seen all the sights within easy distance of Tokyo and even of Yokohama. We have spent all our allowance on frivolous trinkets at the curio shops and markets, and I, for one, wish we could go somewhere else. I am tired of rainy days in Tokyo."

"Oh, I don't mind in the least," returned Nan cheerfully. "I am rather glad of a real true rainy day, for then you can be absolutely decided about your plans; when it is a question of whether it is going to rain or not it keeps one in a very fretful state of mind."

"But what is there to do but write letters? I have no desire to add to the number of my correspondents and I have already written to every one."

"Begin over again. You can't write too often to mother and the girls, nor to Jo."

"You are so annoyingly cheerful about giving advice that I believe you have some plan for yourself up your sleeve."

Nan laughed. "Well, to tell you the truth, I have." She turned with heightened color from the window.

"Well, out with it. What is your alluring project?"

"I hope, at least I expect, to go to Mrs. Craig's for some music."

"Oh, dear," sighed Mary Lee. "I might have known I would be counted out on this depressing day of all times. It only adds to the grievance to have Mrs. Craig no longer here at the hotel and to have Eleanor gone, too."

"Why not come along and flock with Nell? Mrs. Craig begs that we shall feel perfectly at home and says she counts on us to keep Nell in good spirits."

"But there is Aunt Helen. Shall it be said that we have both deserted her on a hopeless day like this?"

Nan looked sober. "I did promise," she said wistfully.

Mary Lee regarded her with a little smile. "I won't be hard on you, old girl," she said. "I know what I can do; I can call up Nell and get her to come over in a 'jinriki,' for at least part of the day, and unless you intend to make a day of it yourself we can arrange some other thing for the afternoon."

"Nice child," returned Nan commendingly. "That is just the ticket. Of course I shall have to find out first at what hour Mr. Harding can get away, but I think it will be the morning after eleven."

"Oh, Mr. Harding," returned Mary Lee in pretended surprise. "Did you expect to meet him at his aunt's?"

"Why, why," Nan began blunderingly, "I--we--did plan to have some music." Then seeing the mischievous look on Mary Lee's face, she cried, "I have half a mind to box your ears; you knew perfectly well what I meant."

Mary Lee laughed. "It is fun to get a rise out of you, Nan, once in a while; I don't often get a chance nowadays. All right, you find out about when you are going and I will make my arrangements accordingly."

She did not have to wait long, for while they were talking, came a message that Miss Corner was wanted at the 'phone and after a short absence from the room Nan returned to say that she was to be on hand by eleven o'clock, and that she would take a "jinriki" over, and she would find out what Aunt Helen wanted to do. So it was decided that Mary Lee should remain on hand. "To keep the lid on Aunt Helen," as she expressed it. "Then you go on and let Nell come back in your 'riksha if she will."

Nan started off in the pelting rain snugly tucked in and not minding it in the least. There were always sights to see and she was perfectly secure from wet, although her coolie was dashing through puddles and the rain was pouring from his straw cloak and down his legs in a manner which showed the extent of the downpour. He did not seem to mind it in the least, however, and in fact appeared to enjoy it. Mrs. Craig had taken possession of a comfortable house in the European quarter of the town and before this the runner stopped short, drawing up closely enough to the door to allow Nan to alight without getting wet, a paper umbrella held over her head shielding her to the very entrance.

A Japanese servant bowed low to the floor and ushered her inside, but before he could announce her, Eleanor came running in. "I knew you would be here," she said. "Neal has already announced your coming. He has been tuning his fiddle and giving us preliminary flourishes for the last ten minutes. I was left out when they were giving musical talents, you know, and Neal got it all. You may well remember my futile efforts at singing college songs in those halcyon days of yore."

"I do remember well, and so I infer that a concerted performance will not be so greatly enjoyed by your fair self that you will not be willing to forego it. Mary Lee is in a state of doldrums and wants you to come over."

"To share the doldrums?"

"To scare them away. She is wearied of the rain, and proposed that you should return in the rikky I have just left. As near as I could make the man understand he is to wait."

Eleanor went to the window. "He is still there, so he evidently understood. I don't want to desert you, but I know perfectly well when two musical cranks get together there is no hope for an outsider and so I shall leave you and Neal to your own devices, expecting still to find you when I get back. Aunt Nora has gone out but she left word that you must not fail to stay to lunch. She has gone now to get some octapus tentacles or some other Japanese horror as a delicacy for you."

Nan would not promise to stay, but as the sounds of a violin came from an inner room, she followed Eleanor to where her friend declared her brother was waiting impatiently.

The young man came forward, his violin tucked under his arm and the bow in his hand. "So glad you could come," he said. "I have brought some music, but I shall expect a solo first to pay me for waiting ten minutes."

"I have heard Nan Corner play too many times for it to be a rarity to me," declared Eleanor, "so I shall go and get ready for my ride. Perhaps you'd better explain to the man, Neal. He is waiting outside, and may refuse to take back a different person from the one he brought." She hurried off while her brother went out to make the matter clear to the coolie.

When he returned Nan was sitting at the piano softly and caressingly trying a little nocturne. It seemed good to touch the keys again and for a few moments she was lost to all but the music she had in mind, but after a while she stopped and began to sound only a few chords. A soft clapping made her turn to see Mr. Harding standing behind her.

"I heard you play that once before," he said.

"You heard me? Where?"

"At Bettersley in your freshman year."

"But how did it come about? I am sure I never saw you."

"No, for you had hardly made my sister's acquaintance then. I had run up to see her and she took me to one of your club-houses. You were at the piano playing."

"And you never told me in all this time."

"No, for you see I did not meet you on that occasion and at first I did not associate you with the dark-haired girl who was playing Chopin at Bettersley four years ago."

Nan arose. "Now since I have finished the solo you demanded, let us look over your music."

"Oh, but you didn't play that expressly for me."

"For whom then?"

"For yourself, didn't you? I exact the fulfilment of my claim. Please play something else."

Nan hesitated, but she was not one of those who required persistent urging so she sat down again and played a dainty little shadow dance. "That seems to express Japan better than anything else I know," she said when she had finished.

"I think you have responded to its call," said her companion. "Thank you, Miss Nan. Now then what shall we do?"

They looked over the music together, finally settling down to a sonata and giving themselves up entirely to its requirements. An hour passed, then another hour and still they played on while the rain beat outside and those within the house came and went all unheeded. At last a voice interrupted a discussion they were having over a certain passage.

"Well," said Mrs. Craig, "aren't you two pretty nearly ready to drop? But no, I needn't ask. I have lived with musicians before and I know how indefatigable they can be. I have just had a 'phone message from Eleanor who says she will stay to lunch with Mary Lee unless you are coming back, which of course you will not think of doing. Tiffin is ready."

"Dear me, is it so late?" said Nan springing up. "We have had such a good time. I had no idea how long we had been at it. Thank you, Mrs. Craig; if Eleanor is going to stay with Mary Lee I will accept your very kind invitation. You do not know how good it seems to get hold of a piano again."

"I had to have mine brought out, for we can't tell how long we may be here, and I like to drum a little myself."

"Aunt Nora plays well," Mr. Harding declared.

"But not near so well as you do, Nan. You are a real artist. I have been listening to you with the greatest interest; it was such a delightful entertainment for a rainy day."

"It certainly was for me," returned Nan simply, as she followed her hostess to the dining-room where the colonel presently joined them, and where they made merry over their meal.

It was a temptation to remain and to continue the music, but Mr. Harding said regretfully that he must return to his office while Nan declared that she was imposing on Mary Lee by staying away all day, so she called up Eleanor to know if Mary Lee wanted to return with her. The reply was that Mary Lee did not intend to go out, and that Nan had better return as soon as she could, as Eleanor was about leaving. It was Mary Lee herself who did the talking. There was something a little agitated and mysterious in the way she spoke and she urged Nan's return so decidedly as to cause some apprehension on Nan's part.

However, she said nothing of this to Mrs. Craig but started off as soon as she could, feeling a little worried at what might have happened in her absence. She hoped Miss Helen was not ill, or that there had been no bad news from home. She hurried to her room as soon as possible after arriving at the hotel. Mary Lee met her at the door. She looked excited but not worried. "What is the matter?" asked Nan anxiously.

"Matter? What should be the matter?"

"I thought maybe something might have happened while I was away. There is no bad news, is there?"

"Why should you think that?"

"I don't know, only that you made such a point of my coming soon. Aunt Helen is not ill, is she?"

"No indeed, but as soon as you take off your things you'd better go in and see her."

Nan wondered a little at this and hastened to take the hint. She knocked at her aunt's door, received the customary answer, "Come in," and entered the room to see a familiar figure sitting there. She could scarcely believe her eyes, but in another second she had rushed across the floor crying, "Oh, mother, mother, you dear, dear mother!" and in another instant was clasped in her mother's arms.

"How did you get here? When did you come? How did you leave the twinnies?" the questions came thick and fast.

But before they were answered, a little suppressed giggle sounded from some mysterious corner and Nan sprang to her feet. "That sounded exactly like Jack," she exclaimed. "I do believe she is here," and then from behind a screen, out rushed Jack to be hugged and kissed and exclaimed over.

Hardly was this excitement over and the questioning begun again, before the screen was pushed aside and out walked Jean, as demure as you please, and then there was more exclaiming and wondering and querying.

"You don't happen to have any one else back there, do you?" inquired Nan, going over to examine the space behind the screen. "I feel as if this were something like a sleight-of-hand performance when they let doves out of little boxes and rabbits from pockets. Do sit down and tell me all about it."

"Well, it is just this way," said her mother. "There were some cases of scarlet fever in the dormitory where the girls were, and as Jean was not well I was afraid she might fall a victim in case of an epidemic, and so I took the two girls away, for I wanted to run no risk. It was so near the end of the term that I think they can make up the lost time next year, and as I thought it over it seemed to me they might profit as much by a trip to Japan as by keeping on with their college work, so we talked it over and I concluded to start right off to join you. I must confess that a very large longing to see my other two had something to do with the decision. Japan seemed such a very long way off and it seemed to me it would work greatly to my content to know that we were all together. We reached Yokohama early this morning and did not waste much time in getting here."

"And have you been here long?"

"No, we came just before luncheon. We wanted to give you a surprise, so we prevailed upon Eleanor to stay and thus put you off the track."

"But I did suspect something," Nan told her, "for Mary Lee could not keep the excitement out of her voice. Oh, me, but it is good to see you. You came through California, of course. Did you stop to see the Robertses?"

"They came up to San Francisco to see us off," her mother told her.

"Carter, too?"

"Yes, Carter, too. They gave us a great send-off."

"Did you stop at Honolulu?"

"Only so long as the steamer was there. We saw a little of it, but we were too anxious to get on to tarry there over a sailing."

Nan sat on the floor hugging her knees and looking from one to another with a beaming smile. "Isn't it larks?" she said rocking back and forth, then making a grab for Jack she rolled her over and began hugging her anew. "You dear old sinner, it is good to behold you again," she declared, and Jack, nothing loth, snuggled up to her and chattered away. Thus the rainy day passed in a more exciting manner than many a sunshiny one had done.

It was not till they were preparing for bed that Mary Lee thought to ask Nan about her morning's pleasure. "Did you have a good time, and did Mr. Harding come?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, and it was all so delightful that I didn't know how the time was going," Nan replied.

"Does he play well?"

"Very sympathetically."

"As well as your one time friend, Mr. Wells?"

"He has not such execution but I think he plays with more feeling," Nan answered after a pause. "He is more modest about his playing, too."

"So, take it all in all, it appeals to you more strongly."

Nan smiled reminiscently. How long ago that early summer madness appeared in the light of later experiences. "What a callow creature I was," she said.

"And I suppose in five years you will be saying the same about this present little affair."

Nan did not reply to this but instead asked, "Did Jack say anything about Carter?"

"Not one word. I am afraid she is a heartless youngster."

"Poor old Cart," returned Nan. "However, Mary Lee, Jack may be all right at heart; she generally is, though she is so thoughtless. I shall talk to her and see if she has any confidences to give. She is mighty young yet and we can scarcely expect her to be anything but a flyaway. She looks well."

"And so does Jean. I think mother was wise to bring them away from possible danger."

"Dear old mother, she always does just the right thing."

"Of course," returned Mary Lee as if that were a question no one could doubt. "I suppose now that Jack has arrived we may look for lively times, Nan," a prophecy which was not without fulfilment as was later seen.

"Well, you were wishing for excitement this morning," returned Nan, "but we certainly did not expect it to be furnished by Jack. Isn't it just the climax of our pleasure here, Mary Lee, to have mother and the girls? We shall have to stay in Tokyo for a while anyway to let them see the sights."

"And I suppose," said Mary Lee slyly, "you are not sorry for the excuse."

Nan pretended not to understand this thrust, and went on discussing plans while Mary Lee had her own thoughts about Nan's satisfaction in the prolonged stay in Tokyo.