felt extremely pleasant to her bare feet. The moon hung like a silver boat between the branches of a slender cypress-tree which grew in a corner of the garden. Under the tree stood Shunkichi, gazing up into the moon-lit sky.
“The grass is quite thick, isn’t it?” said Nobu-ko as she approached him nervously across the weedy garden. But he did not turn his gaze from the sky, and merely muttered, “It seems to be almost full moon!”
There was a short silence, and then he looked at Nobu-ko and asked, “Will you come with me to look at our hen-house?” She nodded her consent.
The hen-house was in a corner of the garden just opposite the cypress-tree, and the young people strolled leisurely over to it. It was lined on two sides with straw-matting, and all they could see inside were shadows and slanting moon-beams. The place smelled rather strongly of fowls.
Peeping into the shed, Shunkichi whispered, “They are all asleep.”
Nobu-ko thought of his remark during supper-time, and repeated quietly to herself, “Yes, man deprives the poor creatures of their eggs.” Then they went back into the room again, and found Teru-ko gazing absently at the electric lamp on which a tiny green-hued rice insect was creeping.
Next morning, soon after breafast, Shunkichi, dressed in his best lounge-suit, and ready to start for his work, came into the front-hall. He said that he was
