"Child," Jiji promised laughingly, "you shall have a monkey little enough to go climbing about our pine-tree."
When New Year's came, Okimi was busy as could be. There was the "Christmas-tree" to make, a bare branch hung from the ceiling. It took a long time to tie the fluttering strips of red and gilded paper on all the twigs, and fasten the tiny white storks in their places. Then there were new dough-cakes to be made for Buddh, and his bowl to be filled with special, perfumed oil. And she must hunt for the very sweetest spray of ylang-ylang, and go to buy an orange. He fared very well that day, the good little Buddh who sat cross-legged in the corner and smiled back at Okimi.
When all that was finished, and Misao San had done her hair and she had dressed in her gayest and laid out the new kimono, done at last, for Jiji, it was dusk and she had not long to wait, there in the happy, expectant silence.
"Here is thy monkey," Jiji said. His voice was strained, but Okimi did not notice it. She was busy with the frightened, clinging, furry thing.
"I cannot thank thee," she said. "Here is an insignificant gift I have made for thee. Put it on."
Jiji fingered the soft folds of the kimono nervously. "Not now," he said. "I have to go now."
"What, on our night?" cried Okimi. "It is well," she added bravely. "Thou wilt return after a little--be still, little brown one, I will not hurt thee--and we will eat then. Mama San gave me a beautiful chicken for us. She is very good to me."
Jiji grew still more nervous. "Okimi ca," he said at last, "I--well, the Regiment sails to-morrow."
"Sails?" Okimi repeated dully, sliding to the floor.
"To America," Jiji explained. "The Regiment is ordered home, and I must go with it. I am a soldier."
"Oh," said Okimi. Her face, as she huddled there on the floor, was hidden under the gay pink lining of her sleeve. "America? Is it--is it far to America?"
"Oh," said Okimi. The monkey tugged at her sleeve, and she raised her head a little. "It does not matter," she said sturdily. "Very soon now I shall have bought myself from Mama San. I shall be free, and I will come to thee. I will go anywhere for thee, so it does not matter--much. Put on thy kimono."
Jiji's nails were cutting into his palms and he did not know it. "Thou canst not come, Okimi. In America I--I--" there are some things it's hard to say, even to a broken plaything. "I am married in America."