sing us your favourite song—the 'Moming-glory Song' if I remember aright."
Poor blind Miyuki! Quite ignorant of the presence of her lover, she loosed her instrument from her shoulder and played, singing the while in plaintive tones:
"The morning-glories are fresh and sheen
With sparkling drops of morning dew,
But well-a-day! the sunshine keen
Bids fair to blight their charming hue.
Oh, how I wish a kindly shower
Would fall, to save the lovely flower."
"Well done! Well done, Asagao!" cried Jirōzayémon with enthusiasm. "Your song has moved me to tears."
"Well done, indeed!" echoed Takita, in a mild tone, that contrasted strangely with his former harshness. "You were not born a beggar, girl. Your touch on the koto, your personal beauty, and the grace of your manner are sufficient proof of that. I think a sketch of your personal history would be an interesting tale for us. Please tell it to us minutely."
"Your question, sir, shows me the kindness of
