Someone nudged his elbow. The lieutenant in the next seat held a card under the edge of the table. On it his new friend had tried his hand at drawing. A huge, very Japanesque figure with wide shoulders and something, supposedly the uniform of the Moonbeam, loosely encasing his form, stood smiling widely. Covering his breast was a medal. At either side a group of pigmies all ejaculated “_Banzai!_” David recognized himself under the queer Japanese features, and shook with laughter, to the great delight of the artist, who was so pleased with his own cleverness that David made him a present of his gold pencil as a souvenir. At four o’clock they were all driven to the garden party given on the grounds of the Emperor’s palace. David was in Mr. Hammond’s car. “Well, David, how we do glisten!” said the commander as they took their seats. “Don’t talk to me after our escorts come aboard, as I am afraid it isn’t polite. I was proud of you, my boy.” “Gosh,” said David, “I thought I’d go right plumb through the floor! I never made a speech in my life. All dressed up like a band wagon, too. Do I dare take this breastplate off?” “Heavens, no! We’ve got to wear ’em on every occasion as long as we are here. Why, David, it’s a tremendous honor.” “Yes, sir; I suppose so.” “Quiet does it now. Here come the others. Unfurl your brightest smile,” and Mr. Hammond turned to the officers approaching the car. The host at the garden party was the Emperor’s personal representative, the Minister of Ceremony. He was a gentle, unassuming old man with a kindly face and the perfect manners made by centuries of ceremonious usage. He was assisted by many members of the court, of whom Hata was the most important. The gardens were lovely beyond words to the appreciative eyes of the visitors. They seemed like fairyland. Each shrub, each tree, each tiny plant grew in orderly, exquisite beauty. David found Dulcie gazing out at a carved and filigreed pavilion which seemed to have drifted down softly upon the lake, where it rested in a fringe of bright green water plants. “I couldn’t bear very much of this,” she said soberly. “It is too beautiful. It won’t let me be myself at all. I like to be good, but I couldn’t keep on being as good as I am this minute. I couldn’t stand it. You know, David, the beautiful places at home shout at you, like an organ or a big chorus. This whispers and murmurs. You have to stop and listen to it, and when you do that, it gets you.” “Come over here and break the spell,” laughed David. “They are serving American ice cream in the gaudy silk tents beyond that hedge.” The dinner that night was given by the city of Tokio. Mr. Hammond promised to send David back to the hotel for Dulcie when it was over, so that she might see the dancing in the Tea House of a Thousand Flowers.