he, within himself. Bob had once or twice thought that it was this name of his that made him so bashful. It was so much like a joke. He had been born on a nearly desert island,—Yezo,—and his father, in the illness of his mother, had attended to his christening. The evidence, to Bob, though circumstantial, was complete. She called him Robert; but Bob, whenever it came to a question of his name, gave it in full, and in defiance.
His mother took admirable care of him in the crush of guests who presently came, and Bob was delighted to find more and more use for his hands, and that his gloves were becoming more and more soiled.
His mother was as pleased as he, except as to the condition of his gloves.
"Robert," she said, "only a very little confidence in yourself, and a little self-forgetfulness, and you can do anything."
But she had to leave him then, and his spirits fell. Kohana-San, released from her duties by Mrs. Rawlins, came up behind him.
"You not bashful. You deceiving me all times," she accused reproachfully. "Me? I see you doing so—so—so!" She illustrated: "'Tha' 's nize evening, Mrs. Willing.
