If Mr. Campbell had a fault it was that when he decided to do a thing he wanted to do it at once.  Having been a man of camps and considerable lonely wanderings about the world, he had been able to gratify this tendency to decide and act quickly.  But it was not so simple with a party of women, and when he announced that they were to start next morning early there was some silent consternation among them.

However, such was the force of Mr. Campbell’s personality when he announced a decision that not even that fearless and redoubtable woman, Helen Campbell, had the courage to raise any objections.  It was true she had engaged a masseuse at eleven o’clock; the laundry had not been finished; certain persons had planned to shampoo heads, and Mme. Fontaine had asked permission to call in the afternoon.

“All of which things must be postponed and overlooked,” thought Miss Campbell.

Mr. Campbell had hired a villa for their short stay.  Komatsu was to go along as cook and to carry excess luggage.  And they were to take a train at the unearthly hour of eight o’clock a.m., which meant rising at an even more unearthly hour; all of which to a great engineer was a mere trifle.

But who could be in a bad humor on such a glorious morning?  Moreover, several funny things happened which set them all laughing as they started off.  Komatsu appeared, strung with cooking utensils like a tin man.

“Not muchly good in a renting-house.  Komatsu take honorable saucepan,” he explained.

In his arms, beside the luncheon hamper, he bore also a beautiful bunch of lilies.

As they climbed into their ’rikshas they were aware of the sound of clipping, and glancing toward the summer-house, beheld twelve old women cutting the grass with large shears.  Most of them were widows, as could readily be seen by their short hair.  Their worn old faces were wreathed in smiles, when they presently touched their foreheads to the grass in profound obeisances.

“The dear old things,” cried Miss Campbell.  “O’Haru, do see that they have a good lunch.”

No need to give such a command to O’Haru.  Refreshments are always given to persons who come in for a day’s work in a private place in Japan.

The next amusing incident was the appearance of the old gardener, Saiki, who came running around the house grasping a bunch of roses.

Giving Mr. Campbell the largest and most beautiful, he divided the others among the ladies.

“Honorable flower for looking on train,” he said, with his inimitable smile.

And so, at last they started.  All the servants lined up to bid them a respectful farewell.  Billie, turning around, saw them gathered in a group on the piazza, fading into spots of bright color in the distance, with the old grass-cutters’ robes making a splash of sky blue on the lawn.

“Oh, Nancy,” she exclaimed, “there never were such people as the Japanese, so simple and adorable.”