“You’d think we were foreign princes instead of only common every-day naval officers,” Sydney said as he finished reading. Phil’s face was thoughtful. “I wonder if this welcome is really sincere,” he questioned. “The newspapers say that the relations between the two countries are terribly strained. In America we could not display this mask of friendship if there was dislike in our hearts. But the Orientals, if one may believe the writers on the subject, are different. An order from their Emperor would be sufficient to freeze a smile on everyone’s face;--a perpetual smile, made for the occasion.” The midshipmen and Winston were now fully dressed in their most official uniform, and were patiently waiting the summons to join their captain. Captain Rodgers, in command of the United States cruiser “Alaska,” had arrived with his ship in Japan at the time of the annual garden fête, given at the height of bloom of the chrysanthemum, the sacred flower of Japan. It had been rumored that this was not the reason of the “Alaska’s” visit; but certain it was that His Majesty had immediately sent them out invitations for the royal fête, provided a special train, rooms at the Imperial Hotel, put carriages always at their disposal, and caused to be prepared an elaborate program of entertainment,--all for his unexpected American naval visitors. All Tokyo was in gala dress. Everywhere the chrysanthemum was displayed, of all sizes and all colors. The holiday crowd was in good humor, and as the carriages of the naval men, in all their gold lace, drove rapidly along, they were greeted on all sides with welcoming “banzais” from hundreds of throats. “There’s nothing belligerent in this welcome,” Lieutenant Winston exclaimed, as he waved gallantly to the smiling faces below him. They were soon approaching the residence of the ambassador; farther up the street the bridge, across which lay the sacred grounds of the Emperor’s palace, came into view. The crowd here became more dense, and the carriages slowed to a snail’s pace. The familiar uniform of the American sailors was seen, dotted here and there among the crowd. Some were in rikishas, while others were on foot; but all were thoroughly enjoying the novel spectacle. The ambassador’s carriage met the naval officers in front of his own gate and led the way toward the stone bridge. Many policemen were lined up on each side of the thoroughfare, intent upon keeping the roadway clear for the numerous state carriages. The little jinrikishas darted here and there between the carriages, making the onlooker almost fearful for the life of their occupants. “If we were in New York, the traffic squad policeman would be on that fellow’s trail,” Sydney Monroe cried out as an automobile dashed by them. The three watched the speeding machine with bated breath. A loud cry from the crowd and then a hoarse murmur of protest, and the machine had come to a stop alongside the next carriage ahead.