“Well, of all the luck,” Phil exclaimed heartily, the annoyance of a moment since dying in his face as he seized the outstretched hand of his former classmate at the Naval Academy at Annapolis. “Taki, you young heathen,” he cried, hugging the young Japanese boyishly. Mutakito Takishima was laughing joyously, and in turn wringing Phil’s hand and slapping him over the shoulder. “I am so glad to see you, Perry,” Takishima cried again, renewing his demonstrations of affection. This meeting of two old friends and their evident joy at seeing each other again caused the curious ones to stop, and the little Japanese saw that very soon the walk would become crowded. “Will you come with me, Perry?” he asked, and Phil, accepting readily, marched away arm in arm with his classmate. They made their way to one of the many tents spread on the velvety grass of the garden. Phil gazed in admiration at the wonderful construction of these frail out-of-door houses. The material was of many delicate tints, and all bedecked with flags. The floors were covered with costly rugs, while polished tables and upholstered chairs were strewn about in profusion, the tables well covered with refreshments. As they entered several dainty little Japanese girls came running up with their quaint shuffling gait, and bowed low, uttering polite words of welcome in their own language. Takishima clicked his heels together and bowed almost to the ground before these sparkling-eyed little ladies, dressed in exquisitely embroidered silk and satin kimonos. “Miss Kamikura and my sister, Hama-san,” Takishima said, smiling with keen enjoyment at Phil’s evident pleasure. Phil bowed and shook hands in American fashion with the two bright-faced Japanese girls. He recognized the name of one to be the same as an illustrious admiral. “My chief’s daughter,” Takishima added, in a low tone to Phil, while the young ladies with their own hands brought refreshments from the heaping tables. “They are ladies of the household, assisting our Empress at the garden fête.” Phil gazed with renewed interest at these doll-like beauties, wishing to speak, yet believing that surely neither could understood English. “How old are they?” he thought--“surely not beyond sixteen years.” Takishima had been talking to the young ladies in his own soft language, while Phil studied their enthusiastic faces. He knew that he was the subject of the conversation, and felt very conscious until Hama-san changed this feeling to one of delighted surprise. “Then you are one of my brother’s schoolmates,” Takishima’s sister, Hama-san, exclaimed, again bowing gracefully to Phil. The midshipman was startled to hear one of these delicate dolls speak his own difficult language, and the surprise in his face caused all three of his companions to laugh gayly. “You speak English!” he gasped, and then joined in the laugh on himself. “How stupid of me,” he added hastily. “O Hama-san was at Vassar while Taki was at Annapolis.