There was no formal placing at this dinner. Many of the Japanese spoke English, and David, to his great joy, found the youngest reporter seated at his left, with the star reporter just across the table. The tables were placed around the walls of the large room, with a space in the middle. “What’s all that floor space for?” asked the youngest reporter, who was occasionally known as Fred. “Do you suppose the Geishas are going to dance here? It gums my works if they are, because I simply gotter have that Tea House of a Thousand Flowers for local color. Gosh, isn’t this great?” “When you have been a correspondent as long as I have,” the star reporter cut in, “you won’t need local color. You will carry your own paints. I could write up that Tea House of a Thousand Flowers right now so you could actually smell it. But they won’t have the Geishas here.” “I heard they are going to give some heavy stuff between courses,” said David. “Historical, and all that. Hope they do. I want to see something good. Why can’t they give us a devil-dance, or something?” “Cling to your lingerie,” advised the star. “If I mistake not, you will see the real thing tonight. Something to make the Geishas look like a row of sparrows hunting crumbs on a park bench.” The first course came on, and David fell to, softly voicing the hope that he might be spared to go home once more. At the close, while the plates were changed, soft queer music was played on strange instruments, the like of which David had never seen. “Kind of throbbish, isn’t it?” he asked Fred. “Hang on!” admonished the star, substituting his own cigarette for one of Japanese make. At the close of the second course, the plates were changed quickly and the lights went down to a dusky glow. The music changed. All at once two figures occupied the center of the floor. They were men lithe and supple. They were masked hideously. Their costumes were indescribable. At once they plunged into an orgy of action through which ran a certain savage grace. They crept, leaped, swayed, whirled, their gorgeous jeweled costumes swinging and flashing. Then they were gone, the lights flashed up. “That is the beginning of a most old and antic dance,” remarked a Japanese on David’s right. “You know, antic—that which has come down from so old time. Regard—behold! More is yet coming.” “What is it all about?” asked David. “Old-time devils in Japan,” explained the man. “I thought so,” said David. “They sort of look that way.” “Yess, that way,” agreed the Japanese. “You watch!” The dance alternated with the dinner. Changes of masks, different costumes, and new dancers came and went in an exhibition more exotic than David’s wildest dreams. At last it was over. The two chief dancers fell, having carefully pretended to stab each other with long thin swords, and were assisted out by helpful hands. The dance and the dinner were ended. “I’m all bogged down,” said the youngest reporter. “I’ve a notion to go home and go to bed.”