Robert Barr - A Chicago Princess

I had been standing there rather stupidly, instead of taking my departure, as I should have done, for I may as well confess that I was astounded at the sumptuous beauty of the girl before me, who had hitherto cast not even a look in my direction. Now she raised her lovely, indescribable eyes to mine, and I felt a thrill extend to my finger-tips. Many handsome women have I seen in my day, but none to compare with this superb daughter of the West.

“Really!” she exclaimed with a most charming intonation of surprise. Then she extended a white and slim hand to me, and continued, “I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Tremorne. Do you live in Nagasaki?”

“I have done so for the past year.”

“Then you know the town well?”

“I know it very well indeed.”

At this juncture another young woman came on deck, and Miss Hemster turned quickly toward her.

“Oh, Hilda!” she cried, “I shall not need you to-day. Thanks ever so much.”

“Not need her?” exclaimed her father. “Why, you can’t go into Nagasaki alone, my dear.”

“I have no intention of doing so,” she replied amiably, “if Mr. Tremorne will be good enough to escort me.”

“I shall be delighted,” I gasped, expecting an expostulation from her father; but the old gentleman merely said:

“All right, my dear; just as you please.”

“Rupert, my boy!” I said to my amazed self; “your ship has come in with a vengeance.”

A stairway was slung on the other side of the yacht from that on which I had ascended, and at its foot lay a large and comfortable boat belonging to the yacht, manned by four stout seamen. Down this stairway and into the boat I escorted Miss Hemster. She seated herself in the stern and took the tiller-ropes in her hands, now daintily gloved. I sat down opposite to her and was about to give a command to the men to give way when she forestalled me, and the oars struck the water simultaneously. As soon as we had rounded the bow of the yacht there was a sudden outcry from a half-naked Japanese boy who was sculling about in a sampan.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Miss Hemster with a little laugh. “Does he think we’re going to desert this boat and take that floating coffin of his?”

“I think it is my own man,” I said; “and he fears that his fare is leaving him without settling up. Have I your permission to stop these men till he comes alongside? He has been waiting patiently for me while I talked with Mr. Hemster.”

“Why, certainly,” said the girl, and in obedience to her order the crew held water, and as the boy came alongside I handed him more than double what I owed him, and he nearly upset his craft by bowing in amazed acknowledgment.

“You’re an Englishman, I suppose,” said Miss Hemster.

“In a sort of way I am, but really a citizen of the world. For many years past I have been less in England than in other countries.”

“For many years? Why, you talk as if you were an old man, and you don’t look a day more than thirty.”

“My looks do not libel me, Miss Hemster,” I replied with a laugh, “for I am not yet thirty.”

“I am twenty-one,” she said carelessly, “but every one says I don’t look more than seventeen.”

“I thought you were younger than seventeen,” said I, “when I first saw you a moment ago.”

“Did you really? I think it is very flattering of you to say so, and I hope you mean it.”

“I do, indeed, Miss Hemster.”

“Do you think I look younger than Hilda?” she asked archly, “most people do.”

“Hilda!” said I. “What Hilda?”

“Why, Hilda Stretton, my companion.”

“I have never seen her.”

“Oh, yes, you did; she was standing at the companion-way and was coming with me when I preferred to come with you.”

“I did not see her,” I said, shaking my head; “I saw no one but you.”

The young lady laughed merrily, – a melodious ripple of sound. I have heard women’s laughter compared to the tinkle of silver bells, but to that musical tintinnabulation was now added something so deliciously human and girlish that the whole effect was nothing short of enchanting. Conversation now ceased, for we were drawing close to the shore. I directed the crew where to land, and the young lady sprang up the steps without assistance from me, – before, indeed, I could proffer any. I was about to follow when one of the sailors touched me on the shoulder.

“The old man,” he said in a husky whisper, nodding his head toward the yacht, “told me to tell you that when you buy that crockery you’re not to let Miss Hemster know anything about it.”

“Aren’t you coming?” cried Miss Hemster to me from the top of the wharf.

I ascended the steps with celerity and begged her pardon for my delay.

“I am not sprightly seventeen, you see,” I said.

She laughed, and I put her in a ’rickshaw drawn by a stalwart Japanese, got into one myself, and we set off for the main shopping street. I was rather at a loss to know exactly what the sailor’s message meant, but I took it to be that for some reason Mr. Hemster did not wish his daughter to learn that he was indulging so freely in dinner sets. As it was already three o’clock in the afternoon, I realized that there would be some difficulty in getting the goods aboard by five o’clock, unless the young lady dismissed me when we arrived at the shops. This, however, did not appear to be her intention in the least; when our human steeds stopped, she gave me her hand lightly as she descended, and then said, with her captivating smile:

“I want you to take me at once to a china shop.”

“To a what?” I cried.

“To a shop where they sell dishes, – dinner sets and that sort of thing. You know what I mean, – a crockery store.”

I did, but I was so astonished by the request coming right on the heels of the message from her father, and taken in conjunction with his previous order, that I am afraid I stood looking very much like a fool, whereupon she laughed heartily, and I joined her. I saw she was quite a merry young lady, with a keen sense of the humour of things.

“Haven’t they any crockery stores in this town?” she asked.

“Oh, there are plenty of them,” I replied.

“Why, you look as if you had never heard of such a thing before. Take me, then, to whichever is the best. I want to buy a dinner set and a tea set the very first thing.”

I bowed, and, somewhat to my embarrassment, she took my arm, tripping along by my side as if she were a little girl of ten, overjoyed at her outing, to which feeling she gave immediate expression.

“Isn’t this jolly?” she cried.

“It is the most undeniably jolly shopping excursion I ever engaged in,” said I, fervently and truthfully.

“You see,” she went on, “the delight of this sort of thing is that we are in an utterly foreign country and can do just as we please. That is why I did not wish Hilda to come with us. She is rather prim and has notions of propriety which are all right at home, but what is the use of coming to foreign countries if you cannot enjoy them as you wish to?”

“I think that is a very sensible idea,” said I.

“Why, it seems as if you and I were members of a travelling theatrical company, and were taking part in ‘The Mikado,’ doesn’t it? What funny little people they are all around us! Nagasaki doesn’t seem real. It looks as if it were set on a stage, – don’t you think so?”

“Well, you know, I am rather accustomed to it. I have lived here for more than a year, as I told you.”

“Oh, so you said. I have not got used to it yet. Have you ever seen ‘The Mikado?’”

“Do you mean the Emperor or the play?”