"Now let us look at Umé's plum tree," said the grandmother. All the family rose from the floor and followed the good father into the garden. Yuki San toddled along on her wooden clogs, and behind the baby marched tailless Tama, keeping a sharp eye on the baby's hands. Tama did not like the feeling of those little hands. They stopped under the plum tree and the father pointed to the branches. Umé looked, and the sight of the tree sent the blood into her face and then out of it. The buds all over the branches were shyly shaking out their white petals. Umé heard her father say, "We must now write fitting poems and fasten them to the heavenly-blossoming branches." She saw all the family go back into the house for the brushes, ink and slips of paper, but she remained under the tree. She was too unhappy to make poems, and she felt sure that no thought of hers could be pleasing to the gods at this time. "Benten Sama heard my prayer," she whispered; "and while I was disobedient, the plum tree has blossomed." In a few moments her mother returned to the garden. "Condescend to hear my unworthy poem," she said, and read it aloud from a slip of paper. "The illustrious sun called to the brown buds and the blossoms obeyed." Umé hung her head. She only, it seemed, had been disobedient; even the buds had obeyed the call of the sun. Just then Tara ran from the house. "My miserable poem is about the lovely sunset," he said, and read, "The joyful blossoms blush under the rosy glances of the sunset sky." The father took the poems and fastened them to a branch of the tree. As he did so he looked down at his little daughter. "What unhappy thought clouds your face, Umé-ko?" he asked gently. Umé began to cry. It was a long time since she had done such a thing. Little Japanese children are always taught not to permit their faces to show either grief or anger; but Umé's tears fell in spite of all her efforts to keep them back. At the sight of her tears a silence fell upon the whole family. Even little Yuki looked at her in surprise as she told the story of her disobedience. It was the grandmother who spoke first. "Our spirits are poisoned that you have been so forgetful of our teaching," she said; "but I have learned many things in my long life. It is our honorable privilege to forgive your disobedience, if you are truly sorry for it, because this is your birthday." Little Umé counted that forgiveness as the best of all her birthday gifts. CHAPTER III TEI BUYS A DOLL "A whole year of months is a very long time, is it not, Umé?" "Yes, Tei." "Would you like to stay shut up in a dark room as long as that, the way the dolls do?" "No indeed, Tei, and I would not stay shut up. I would find some way out and would run away." "Just as we did on your birthday," said Tei.