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172
A DAUGHTER OF THE SAMURAI

said that the earth is flat and you are on the other side of the plate, not far away, but out of sight.”

Then we both smiled, but Mother’s lips were trembling. She put her arm around me gently, and—I’ve loved Mother ever since!

Another “memory stone” in my life was the day that I entertained the club. Mother belonged to a literary society the members of which studied about different countries and wrote essays. The meetings were held at the homes of the members, and early on the morning of the very day that it was Mother’s turn to entertain she received a message calling her to the city for a “between trains” visit with a dear friend who was passing through the city on her way to a distant land. Mother would be back before the meeting was over, but I was dismayed to be left with the responsibility of arranging the rooms and receiving the guests.

“There is nothing for you to be worried about,” said Matsuo who was just starting to his business. “I heard Mother tell William to bring more chairs from upstairs and you have only to see that he places them like in a church. Clara knows how.”

“But Mother meant to have flowers, and she said something about a little table for the president and—Oh, the piano has to be pushed back! Mother said so. I do wish she were here!” I cried, in real anxiety and distress.

“Don’t make a mountain out of a mole-hill! Clara is equal to anything”; and Matsuo ran across the lawn in response to the waving hand of a neighbour who was waiting in his buggy at the iron gates.

I knew he was right, for Clara had cleaned the rooms the day before, and everything really necessary had been done; but, nevertheless, I felt lost and helpless.

In the midst of my hour of woe I saw walking up the path around the lawn an old lady of the neighbourhood