When Kito went home that night he laughed and sang and floundered into the water once or twice.
"'Kio no yume, Osaka no yume,'"[1] he repeated.
He waited. But he was. very sure—so sure that he built a house dainty enough for the little person he meant to cage in it. And that was dainty indeed. (Pray believe that from her toes to her head she was exquisite, immaculate.) There were mats of such softness as Kito had never seen till now. And the shoji were of such exquisite paper that it might be taken for filmy silk. The kamidana (for Owannon was very devout) was crowded with gods to suit such a personality, from jolly Binzuru to grim Ojin Tenno. And the garden! What a fairy nook it was! A lake that onemight tumble into and not wet more than one's boots. On it a boat moored at a leafy tea-house for two—no more—no more possibly. A tiny waterfall turned a wheel that cast a jet of spray upon the newly planted palms—two, and no more. Indeed, everything was two, and only two.
- ↑ "A dream of Kioto, a dream of Osaka"—a dream of happiness and riches.
