“Oh!” gasped the admiring Asako, “I must get one of those geisha girls to show me how to wear my kimonos properly; they do look smart.”

“I do not think,” answered Sadako.  “These are vulgar women, bad style; I will teach you the noble way.”

But all the geisha had a grave and dignified look, quite different from the sprightly butterflies of musical comedy from whom Geoffrey had accepted his knowledge of Japan.

They knelt down before the guests and poured a little of the sake into the shallow saucer held out for their ministrations.  Then they folded their hands in their laps and appeared to slumber.

A sucking sound ran round the room as the first cup was drained.  Then a complete silence fell, broken only by the shuffle of the girls’ feet on the matting as they went to fetch more bottles.

Mr. Fujinami Gentaro spoke to the guests assembled, bidding them commence their meal, and not to stand upon ceremony.

“It is like the one—­two—­three—­go! at a race,” thought Geoffrey.

All the guests were manipulating their chop-sticks.  Geoffrey raised his own pair.  The two slender rods of wood were unparted at one end to show that they had never been used.  It was therefore necessary to pull them in two.  As he did so a tiny splinter of wood like a match fell from between them.

Asako laughed.

“That is the toothpick,” cousin Sadako explained.  “We call such chop-sticks komochi-hashi, chopstick with baby, because the toothpick inside the chopstick like the baby inside the mother.  Very funny, I think.”

There were two kinds of soup—­excellent; there was cooked fish and raw fish in red and white slices, chastely served with ice; there were vegetables known and unknown, such as sweet potatoes, French beans, lotus stems and bamboo shoots.  These had to be eaten with the aid of the chop-sticks—­a difficult task when it came to cutting up the wing of a chicken or balancing a soft poached egg.

The guests did not eat with gusto.  They toyed with the food, sipping wine all the time, smoking cigarettes and picking their teeth.

Geoffrey, according to his own description, was just getting his eye in, when Mr. Fujinami Gentaro rose from his humble place at the far end of the room.  In a speech full of poetical quotations, which must have cost his tame students considerable trouble in the composition, he welcomed Asako Barrington, who, he said, had been restored to Japan like a family jewel which has been lost and is found.  He compared her visit to the sudden flowering of an ancient tree.  This did not seem very complimentary; however, it referred not to the lady’s age but to the elder branch of the family which she represented.  After many apologies for the tastelessness of the food and the stupidity of the entertainment, he proposed the health of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, which was drunk by the whole company standing.