that a country boy like myself could only stare with eyes opened wide in amazement. He was not a simple, endlessly passive type like myself. "You. What a surprise. You've been forgiven by your father, have you? Not yet?" I was unable to confess that I had run away. In my usual way I evaded the issue, though I was certain that Horiki soon, if not immediately, would grasp what had happened. "Things will take care of themselves, in one way or another."
"Look here! It's no laughing matter. Let me give you a word of advice—stop your foolishness here and now. I've got business today anyway. I'm awfully busy these days." "Business? What kind of business?" "Hey! What are you doing there? Don't tear the thread off the cushion!" While we were talking I had unconsciously been fiddling with and twisting around my finger one of the tassel-like threads which protruded from the corners of the cushion on which I sat—binding threads, I think they are called. Horiki bad assumed a jealous possessiveness about everything in his house down to the last cushion thread, and he glared at me, seemingly quite unembarrassed by this attitude. When I think of it, Horiki's acquaintanceship with me had cost him nothing. Horiki's aged mother brought in a tray with two dishes of jelly. "What have we here?" Horiki asked his mother tenderly, in the tones of the truly dutiful son, continuing in language so polite it sounded quite unnatural. "Oh, I'm sorry. Have you made jelly? That's terrific. You shouldn't have bothered. I was just going out on some business. But it would be wicked not to eat your wonderful jelly after you've
