The lagoon, the garden and a green courtyard filled the three sides of the room where walls might have been. Even the _shōji_ here had been removed, for there were no houses visible; a high green hedge of thick bamboo bounded court and garden, beyond were the pale blue hills. It was not a room, it was a nest, we lived as freely in the open air as the birds or the flowers; a brown roof hung like a sheltering leaf above our heads, a cool clean matting covered the ground beneath our feet, but the rustle of leaves and of rice-fields, the restless hum of insect life, the rippling rhythm of the wide lagoon, the whole stir of a growing world was ours. We did not peep at it through a window, we lay in it, we _were_ it; and it rippled and hummed and grew part of us, for Pan is not dead, in the Land of the Gods he is living still. * * * * * Then the comely landlady called us to our bath; “the honourable hot water was ready,” and the plain daughter assisted us out of our clothes into our _kimono_ with an attention which, to our sophisticated code, was embarrassing, and led us down a passage whose wooden wall opened into the bathroom. Here our landlady received us. She was just sliding down the wooden plank, which shut off the pipe filled with glowing charcoal from the rest of the bath-tub, and looking up she said the bath was “_yoroshī_.” The water was positively bubbling, at that delicious temperature of 110 degrees which the Japanese love; but we were not yet used to literal boiling, so we demanded cold water. And the two little girls with goggle eyes ran away to fetch it in high wooden pails with stiff wooden handles. They ran out by the wooden _shōji_ on the opposite side, which opened straight on to the gravel courtyard of the entrance, and their dark-blue _kimono_ were tucked up into their _obi_, showing the bright red _kimono_ underneath. And they were laughing. When we demanded still more cold water they laughed again. The _Ijin San_ had strange ideas of baths evidently. At last, in deference to their feelings, we desisted. The water was no longer bubbling, so we pronounced it “_yoroshī_,” and they all retired.