Mr. Bamboo and the Honorable Little God | Page 3

with swallow in his throat. After march come song 'bout cradle and star, but big cough catch T?ke Chan in middle, and when the strangle had left and tears of hot had wipe way, he heard childrens saying amen to prayer. His red lip have little shake, for he have great pride to say that prayer faster than any childs. He have hospitable of soul, too. But T?ke Chan son of great general of war, and he never cry, even though much disappoint' come to his mind. I was hunting speech to give him the comfort of heart when children give sound with mouth like storm breeze hurrying through leaves. I look. Where door of other room always lived was most beautiful Christmas-tree of any world, all light with flaming candles and gold and silver balls. On very tip-most top the lovely big surprise from foreign country. It wore dress of spangly stars and white. Big brown eyes and hair like rice-straw when sun shines through it. It held out welcome arms. Every move of tree give sway to body. I know trulier, but surely, it have look of real life. Teacher rolled tree to middle of room in bare spot, which made glad to have it. Children laughed and clapped hands happy of that day, and call' many funny sayings. I forget the anxious in my happy of that day, and turn with glad eye on T?ke Chan. Bamboo boy. Never I see such wonderful thing as the glory. First he see only it, and give low tight whisper, "The Offering." His eye fly to tip of top. He lean' way over like his body break with eager. Joyful speech come with long sigh, "Ah--the guest he is come!" For one minute room very still, and just same as fairy give him enchantment T?ke Chan rose from floor till he come right under tree. Other childrens make such merries. They have thought it play. But all sounds and peoples passes away from my vision. Nothing left but picture of one small blue soldier looking up through blazon flames of Christmas-tree to shining thing above. His cheeks so full of red with fighting cough, eyes so bright with wet of tears, he fold his hands for prayer, and soft like pigeon talking with mate he speak: "O most Honorable Little God! How splendid! You are real; come live with me. In my garden I am a soldier; I'll show you the dragon-flies and the river. Please will you come?" My heart have pause of beat. I think fever give T?ke Chan's mind delirious. Quick I uncement my feet from floor to go to him. "Tahke Chan," I say with lovely voice, "that is not a God nor even image. Listen: it's only a big foreign doll which postman bring this morning as great surprise from America. Teacher put it up high so all childs could see it. Look what kindergarten give you--most beautiful kite, like dragon-fly you love more better. Come rest in your chair. We sing."
Ah, that little play soldier! Door of his ear all shut to my every speak of love. He just stand with eyes uplift' and plead: "Please come play with me. I know your song 'bout cradle and star. And I can march. See." But his body rock from each side to other. Then I press my arms round and whisper with much tender: "I bring doll home with you." He look 'way up high on Christmas-tree, then he leave his conscious in kindergarten room.
Me and two soldier servants convey T?ke Chan and foreign doll to his home. I stay in honorable house with them. One day go by, and 'nother night come. Sick boy's mama have look of ivory lady as she rest her tired, and maid girl make tea. I watch by side of bed on floor. Big ache in heart clutch' me when I look round room and see blue soldier's suit hang' near. It have look of empty and lonely, dragon-fly kite in corner have broken wing. But when I bring gaze back T?ke Chan, loveliest sight of all visit me. That little child reach out and find hand of foreign doll. He hold very tight, and give it look of love. Such heaven light come on his face! I suspend my breath and listen to his low speech which come in broken pieces: "You are my Tomidachi. Do not go; I soon be well I come play in your garden. Dragon-flies--cradle--star--Ah, Little God--you grow so big!"
Something made me open shoji quick. Old priest make bell sing. Lovely star hangs its light over mountain. All things have great stillness. Not even leaf tremble in white moonlight. Strange feel hold me. Then I know T?ke Chan have gone to play in Christ-child's