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Show I lie Lord of 1 minder Gale By SIDNEY HERSCHEL SMALL (Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co.) ' BOB IN AMERICA SYNOPSIS. In a low drinking place In the Japanese town of MltarirL, Kayama, dissolute Bon of the wealthy Aochl, Lord of the Thunder Gate, boasts of a girl he is to purchase (with gold stolen from his father). Following a fight in the place, a drunken white man, speaking pertect Japanese, Jap-anese, is left unconscious. Kayama, Kaya-ma, dreading his father's anger, -sees a way of escape. He changes clothes with the unconscious white man (to whom he bears a remarkable resemblance), leaving a note of explanation. Leaving, Kayama is robbed and slain. The white man, as Kayama, Is taken, unconscious, to the house of Aochi. His name is Robert Wells. Wells awakes bewildered, but to familiar scenes, In Aochi's house. Aochl, almost sightless from age, does not perceive the deception. He had determined his unworthy son should be put to death, but Wells' deportment leads him to think a reformation is possible. Aochl dies that day. Wells finds Kayama's note, and understands. Priests remind him of a bargain he has made, to buy a girl. lie goes to the temple and purchases the girl, to all appearances white, though the priests assure him she has Chinese blood. She tells him he Is white "all white" and begs him to spare her. CHAPTER IV Continued. 5 But with all the explanations which Doctor Wells must make, and the disruption dis-ruption to the household affairs, the coming of MIsako was a boon to the frightened lady-mother of little Bobble. Bob-ble. MIsako brought (It was all they could do) a letter from the missionaries mission-aries In a Tillage near Mltaglrl ; six munths later she became Bobbie's tuck-me-ln-bed an' klss-me-'nlght, for the lady-mother died. His father, always a silent man, became be-came doubly stern ; devoted perfunctorily perfunc-torily to his duties, Insistent that the boy spend long hours over dry books. Bobble saw him seldom. As contact with his father decreased, de-creased, so did Misako usurp all of Bobbie's affection. Long tales she told him, as they sat evenings upon the mats. Most of all of the town from whence she had come, its grandeur and richness, the terrific god who lived In Mitagiri, the Thunder God, whose face was veiled, that ordinary men and women might live. To look upon the god, save for the highborn, was certain death, so awful was his visage. As the child grew, a sturdy, brown- suinnea youngster, luisaico s love De-came De-came rapt devotion. It was typical of Doctor Wells that lie had not flinched at having been sent to Takusaki, although al-though lie had seen Its location upon the map. and knew that he would be the only missionary for miles around. This had not daunted him, inspired rather. He did not consider It as martyrdom : it was his duty. Now this very thing reacted against him. More than mice lie had felt that If ... if only he had been able to secure medical attention, lie mightn't have lost Elsie. Now lie saw his son playing in the dust with the ragged urchins of the village. Takusaki itself, it-self, as a town, might well have been any of a thousand. lie did not consider con-sider It as a town. It was a place of heathen, who did not listen or, listening, listen-ing, did not learn. His wife, In her brief stay, had been delighted with It. This Wells did not understand. He remembered only her last tired hours, and had them with film often. That Bobble should acquire the mannerisms of his playmates was natural, nat-ural, but that his skin became a creamy-yellow in tan, that long days In the hot sun should cause his eyes to narrow tills gave his father secret dismay. The lad swam, played with the rest. His arms and legs browned the missionary saw nothing In the boy that resembled either his wife or himself. The lad was bright. Ills subtle reasonings and brilliant cross-cuts through problems in mathematics were. Doctor Wells felt, means to learn with superficial rapidity. Nor had the boy proper reverence ; he had early been disgraced for clapping his hands In Shinto prayer, learned at the temple, while Doctor Wells was performing per-forming a funeral ceremony over a departed church member. The excise was that "lie watli a .Tapanetlie, fa-ther-than. I thought he would like It . . ." Bobble saw In the village many things that were beautiful. Those, his father, with the stern taste of the West already developed, did not see, or Vtourri not look for. Especially were the temples uncsthetic and abominable; abomina-ble; he had no patience wilh the very few missionaries who saw tliem as objects ob-jects of art. It can be seen that Doctor Wells had no sympathy with the very nir Which his son breathed, since that air was tilled with ancient folk-lore and myths, fille! with Orientalesque per-raincs per-raincs and habits. He felt that application to his tudlos would soon remove Robbie fur from this Insidious influence even better bet-ter Mian he himself mlcht do It. It l'a irelf aja Induced phase Misako became toothless. There was no more Bobbie-San. She could remember no such person. Instead, there lived In the house the heir to the house of the Thunder Gate. She bowed before him, calling the boy Kayama-San. Doctor Wells did not exist, save as a sort of upper servant. The house was Bobbie's. Bobbie was served first. Bobbie's wishes must be consulted before she would permit a servant to carry out oue of Doctor Wells' orders. Bobbie took It as a matter of course. Misako liked it. That was enough. Wasn't she I1I3 little mother? moth-er? To please her, he would memorize long Shinto prayers. Became adopt-in adopt-in the Rules of Courtesy. Because it delighted her to see him imperious, he could adopt a commanding manner before her and the other servants. Misako had one principal worry. The boy was old enough to be married, to whom? In vain she painted a picture for the boy. There would be a beautiful girl, versed in every duty and appreciative of her exalted position. A girl with long, fine fingers, with eyes that would shine like black jewels under brows curved as the wings of the nightblrds; her black hair would be woven with the blossom of the plum ; she would have kimonos of pale silk with shifting shift-ing colors changing with the light. Here, and here alone, Bobble would laugh, although he took pains to conceal con-ceal his amusement from MIsako. The position of Doctor Wells, In his own household, became Intolerable. He could discharge Misako, yet dreaded dread-ed facing his Maker and admitting that he had acted so with one of such great and simple faith. It was in a bitter moment that he fumbled through his scant correspondence. correspond-ence. He found a letter already creamy with age. It had been written shortly after the death of Bobbie's mother: "Send the boy to me, If you will. If you want the little fellow educated in America I will see that It Is done. Elsie El-sie would have liked it. He will not be permitted to follow In his father's footsteps. I tell you that franklj'. To my way of thinking, there is more re- ligion in bringing water to a desert, or housing the poor properly,- than in preaching to a horde of savages. Tou won't do this at once, Richard. You were always obstinate. But this is an open offer. It Isn't a favor to you, remember. It is for Elsie, and the boy." Doctor Wells, from hla window, the letter upon the desk before him. watched a mendicant, copper bowl banging against skinny shanks, weary, sore of feet, extend his bowl at the doorway to Misako, begging a handful of rice, the scrapings of the bean-curd pot,- a few shreds of fish. Whimpering, Whimper-ing, the mendicant thanked Misako for her gift. Doctor Wells heard her answer that thanks be poured down npon her great and revered lord, Kayama-San. Nonsense. Nonsense. What would the boy come to? Better swallow his pride. Suppose Bobble were left alone. What would happen? With sudden Intent In-tent he clapped his bands. "Send me my son," he ordered. "We see little of each other, Robert." Rob-ert." he said when the boy entered. "Sit down, son. How," his voice faltered fal-tered a moment, "how old are you?" "I was born In th year of the Forty-third Blossoming of the Sacred Plum, in the Season of " Doctor Wells, shivering slightly, cut him short. "English, Robert ! English Eng-lish " "Eighteen, father." "So soon. So soon . . . or . . . so long . . ." he paused, vacant-eyed. At eighteen. Ills own boyhood: the gix'at square house In a commodious yard, well shaded by left-over forest trees, elm and walnut and beech, with here and there a line of leafy sycamores syca-mores where the creek had been tilled in. Coolness nnd quiet; ordered days. A well-marked program, not too staidly staid-ly delineated. Cookies in ihe kitchen. Strange that he should remember that! The starchy gingham of his mother. Her pride In him. a minister setting forth to strange hinds. . . . "Would you like to go to America? To a college for learning?" "If you command, father." "I do not command, son. It is a request. Vol! should go. Yes . . . yes ... 1 do command. Yon must go." Bobbie bowed his head. "The son refusing to obey his father shall be punished with one hundred blows of the bamboo." he said sadly. "When Is It you will that I depart?" "Why . . . don't you want to go? Are you only going because I order you ?" "Yes, father." "Why not?" "Only missionaries go 10 eu:t.'ge." The boy smiled sagely. "I would not care to be a missionary." "Rather be a mock-lord, ruler of a host a host consisting of a doddering servant, senile." Wells said harshly, adding somberly, almost apologetically: apologetical-ly: "Your uncle would see to It that you were not a missionary," and explained ex-plained what colleges were for. Listening Misako, without the door, her ears sharp for nil the many van ished seasons, heard Doctor Wells put his question again, and sent up a wall of protest and anguish at Bobbie's delighted de-lighted answer. CHAPTER V James Sanderson was pleased with the lad's build and clear eyes. The big house on Nob hill was pleased with him likewise. While he was unimpressed unim-pressed with the grandeur, taking It as a matter of course, yet he had a smile for every one without being familiar. fa-miliar. It was not to be doubted that lie had a manner, as if he were the master's son. let alone the ctlld of the master's sister and a peuny-scrunchin' peuny-scrunchin' missionary. - When James Sanderson had arrived at that place which permitted him to build a house of his own, It was of a piece with Its neighbors, a wonderful example of ornamentation. The portico por-tico was corinthlan-columned. Thert were pinnacles and many-angled roofs, all wood painted gray. Wherever a space permitted, the whole was Iced with carved wood, acanthi and fat Rubens-like babies all sprawling together. to-gether. It was with a twinge, after the fire and earthquake had swept away his house with all of the others, that Sanderson San-derson admitted that a change would be necessary. This he agreed to, as far as the exterior of the house was concerned. There was now nothing but severe lines, nnd even his plea for a Doric column was overwhelmed by the architect. Ho was, however, positive about two things. He would have none of your low ceilings. He wanted large rooms, where there was space for man to breathe. The other matter was a vJew-room. Formerly, a cupola had served this purpose. The nearest that Sanderson could come was to Insist that upon the roof be built a pill-box (as the architect ar-chitect called It) which set at the opposite oppo-site end from the roof's water tank. It had many windows and was reached by a spiral staircase which had a landing land-ing before the door, and then continued contin-ued to a trapdoor In the roof. From the windows of this tower room was a sheer drop of sixty feet. Wisely, Sanderson had this room prepared for Bob. It was apart from the house. "No sense keepln' the lad in a boarding school. A fellow wants a little privacy. A place to bring his friends where we grownups won't disturb dis-turb them, nor hear them.". The room pleased Bob immensely. Sanderson had fitted It up, as he said, to give the lonely boy a homelike place. Actually, he had adorned the room as he would have liked his own room when he was a lad. Floor space, nothing to speak of; walls covered with the sort of hunting hunt-ing prints that Sanderson had always admired ; four chairs, all bought second-hand, so as to he "homelike, and not stiff ;" a rack of books, filled with some of his uncle's own. A broad double bed, curtained from the room (Sanderson had slept upon grain-sacks grain-sacks when he first came around the Horn) ; a table with a humidor, lest Bob take to cigarettes (which he early did). His first days in the streets startled him. It was strange to walk through the crowds of hurrying people and see no face that he knew. Once or twice lie had greeted a Japanese, only to ba rewarded witli a blank stare, or a supercilious su-percilious giggle. After that he was silent. Yet he could not help but feel each time lie saw a brown face disappear disap-pear In the crowd, an unexpected poignant loneliness ... It seemed to him that a fragment of his familiar world had vanished, leaving him alone. He was entirely unaware of encouraging encour-aging looks thrown at him. Bob was, as a woman witli two tiny bundles remarked re-marked to her companion, not nt all hard to look at. There was something commanding about him. Not infrequently infre-quently a girl, or a free-and-easy young matron, found time to smile at iiim. Sanderson Hired the man-company. It gave him a fooling that no guest, no matter how intimate, could instill. The boy's rapt attention when he spoke he took not as duty, but as Interest. It was a combination of both. The slightest encouragement was sufficient to start him reminiscing of his college days. ITe felt that Boh should be forewarned, fore-warned, hut did not realize that he was arming him ns well. Bob is learnlrg to be an American. Amer-ican. What will be the effect on him? (TO BE CONTINUED.) |