Wherein it will be perceived that Garland had learned the whole art of Japanese politeness—gentle prevarication.
"How that is nize!" breathed the blueeyed one, fervently.
Garland turned suddenly upon her, then questioned her with his eyes. She understood.
"Those—thing—you—speak-ing," she barely breathed once more, in explanation.
"Oh!" said Garland. But it meant more than print can express. "Tell me, if you please, what your name is."
It was Miss Purple-Wistaria; but the Japanese of this was quite as impossible as the other.
"Do you mind me calling you Blue-Eyes?" asked Garland. " When it comes to Japanese proper names—I have already taken the liberty of mentally calling your sister Black-Eyes, and if you don't mind—"
"You call those blue-eye? " asked Miss Meadowsweet.
"Why, yes," said Garland. "What do you call them?"
"Purple-eye."
"Well, I like that better, anyhow. It shall be Purple-Eyes."
