"Is this the parent of all the umbrella family?" demanded Judy, pointing to an enormous parasol swung in some mysterious manner from the centre of the ceiling and resembling a large fish swimming among a numerous small-fry of lanterns. The divans were spread with Japanese covers, and over the white dimity curtains were hung cotton crepe ones of pale blue with a pink cherry-blossom design. In one corner stood a vase, from which poured the incense of smoking joss-sticks. Funny little handleless cups were ranged on the table and lacquered trays of candied fruits, rice cakes and other indescribable Japanese "meat-sweets," as Otoyo had called them. The little hostess flew about the room exactly as the _Three Little Maids_ did in "The Mikado," waving her fan and bowing profoundly to her guests. Presently, sitting cross-legged on the floor, she sang a song in her own language, accompanying herself on a curious stringed instrument, a kind of Japanese banjo. She was, in fact, the funniest, queerest, most captivating little creature ever seen. She loaded her guests with souvenirs, little lacquered boxes, fans and diminutive toys. "I feel as if I were a belle at a grand cotillion with all these lovely favors," exclaimed Jessie Lynch. "Of course, you would always be laden with favors," said Judy; "that is, if you could get all your beaux to come to the same cotillion. You are like the sailor who had a lass in every port. I strongly suspect you of having an admirer in every prominent city in the country." Jessie laughed and dimpled. "No," she said; "I stopped at the Rocky Mountains." Otoyo, who had been listening closely to this dialogue, suddenly bethought herself of a new sensation she had provided for her friends, which she was about to forget. "Oh," she cried, "I nearlee forgetting. American girl love fortune telling? So do Japanese. You like to have your fortune told?" she asked, cocking her head on one side like a little bird and blinking at Jessie. "Would she?" cried a dozen ironical voices. "I hope it's nothing disagreeable and there's no bad luck in it," said Jessie, drawing a slip of paper from a flat, shiny box. "But it's all in Japanese," she added, with much disappointment. "Otoyo will translate it. Won't you, you cunning little sugar-lump?" asked Molly. "Everybodee choose and then I will make into English," said the small, busy hostess, flying from one to another on her marshmallow soles. "Me first of all," cried the eager Jessie. "I had first draw." Otoyo took the slip and, holding it under a lantern, translated in a high, funny voice: "He happy who feesh for one and catch heem, than feesh for many and catch none." The wild whoop of joy that went up at this unexpectedly appropriate statement made the lanterns quiver and the teacups rattle. Some of the others were not so appropriate, but they were all very amusing. Mabel Hinton, who had been nicknamed "old maid" the year before, drew one which announced: