A sliding of the screen and a call from the court-yard announced the arrival of the jinrikisha men, who had come for the baggage. Merrit thrust back his half-finished breakfast. "By Jove! I'd most forgotten this is my last meal with you. Just to think all that tiresome old government contract is finished and I'll soon be on my way to the other side!" "You want to see other side?" she asked. "Mama San not there no more." Then seeing his face darken, she laid a quick hand of sympathy on his. "I have the sorrowful for you," she said earnestly, then went on hastily: "That other side! Yes, I know that most beautiful 'Merica. Most big ship in the world come rolling into Hatoba. Merrit San so long and big, stand way out front and see over much people. Then he cry out, 'Herro!' herro!' with glad and much joyful. He see that lovely girl like picture waiting there!" Without pausing for a reply, she pushed open a door and called in Japanese to her father and mother, who never made their appearance till Merrit's breakfast was finished. "Come, make ready to give our guest an honorable departure," she said. In the small courtyard facing the street the girl found the men, with their jinrikishas and baggage-wagon, waiting to convey Merrit to the station. She carefully directed the tying on of the various trunks and bags, and placed the family just where they should stand that the greatest honor might be done the departing guest. As Merrit came out of the little house and reached for his shoes, which stood waiting at the side, Yuki San started toward him, eager to serve him to the last. Merrit motioned her back. "Don't come too near, Yuki San. If you happened to fall into one of those shoes, you'd be lost for ever and ever, and that big Mr. Saito would be inviting me to cut off my head." Yuki San laughed and smoothed the cushions in the jinrikisha while she gave minute directions to the jinrikisha men. Merrit made his adieu with high good humor, and so many big words that Yuki San was hard pressed to interpret. He invited the family and all their relatives to come to see him in America. When he reached Yuki San he held out his hand. Made shy by the unusual ceremony, she timidly laid a cold and unresponsive little palm in his. He looked down from his height with tender memories of all her gentle courtesies. "Good-by, little snow-girl," he said. "I'll never forget Japan, nor you." She withdrew her hand and looked inquiringly up at him. "Some long time you come back?" Merrit climbed into the jinrikisha "No, Yuki San, you know I'll soon have a little home of my own to work and care for. I'll be a busy man for the next few years, so I guess I'll not come back." As in a dream, Yuki San saw the men adjust their hats and tighten their sashes as they took their places in front of the small vehicle. Mechanically she bowed her farewell with the rest of the family, but she did not join their "Sayonara."