“It is a curious custom of the foreigners to make shoes out of leather,” observed the priest. “It is, is it not?” said Caswell, but absently, for through the half-open wall panel he saw the party seated on the matting around the fire-pot which the fat temple boy had just deposited. The young man and the girl were sitting next one another. The aunt was examining a screen. Their backs were turned to him, so that Caswell could look without being seen. Suddenly, as he gazed at the little shoes, an idea came to him and he smiled. The fat boy was coming out on his way for the tea and cakes, and as he passed Caswell stopped him. The boy bowed ceremoniously. “Did you remove the shoes of the honorable young foreign lady?” he inquired. [Illustration: “Did you remove the shoes of the honorable young foreign lady?”] The boy bowed again and replied that he had indeed been so honored. “In the foot of the stocking of the young foreign lady,” inquired Caswell, “was there not a hole?” “Not the least hole,” replied the fat boy, wonderingly. “No hole? Are you sure?” said Caswell. “None,” said the boy. “Thank you, that is all,” said Caswell, gravely. He looked at the little shoes again. “Simple one that I am,” he murmured. “Is it true,” inquired the priest, “that foreign women wear stockings above their ankles and of colored fabrics?” Caswell made no reply for a moment. The girl was speaking. “But you never told me what you did to win your medal,” she said. “It is true,” said Caswell, in reply to the priest’s question. “But I should like to know,” said the girl. “I finally got up the courage to go out after the cocoanuts,” said the youth, “after I was good and hungry.” “But what else?” said the girl. “But that was all--on my word,” said the youth, and they fell to laughing again. “It is a curious custom,” observed the priest, referring to the stockings. “It is,” said Caswell, politely, “is it not? And now I must depart,” he added. He bowed his farewell. “_Sayonara!_” he said, “_Sayonara!_” “_Sayonara!_” said the priest, bowing. “You will come soon again?” Caswell straightened up. “I forgot to tell,” he said. “I shall not return soon. I am going to my own country.” “Indeed, is it so? Is it so?” said the priest, gently. He bowed again and wished him the good wishes suitable to such a parting. “_Sayonara!_” said Caswell. Then he walked toward the wicket gate that led out of the garden. “He got up the courage to go out after the cocoanuts,” he murmured, as he walked away. He quickened his steps, but once he turned and looked back, for he heard their low, rippling laughter again.