Weighed down with his parcel he once more turned toward the sushi-restaurant, and on his way, just at the opposite comer of the cross road, he saw a sushi-stall, and in front of it hung a curtain bearing the same name as that of the big restaurant. He walked to it.
Mr. A., a young M.P., once heard his friend Mr. B. who was another M. P. talking boastfully of his epicurean tastes in this manner, “Unless you can come to appreciate sushi as served in a sushi-stall, fresh from the maker’s hands, and which you eat with your fingers, you can never truly appreciate the flavour of Japanese cooking.” Mr. A therefore made up his mind someday to try sushi, eating it standing up at some sushi-stall. He was told about a noted stall where a very delicious kind of sushi was procurable.
One day, soon after sunset, Mr. A., walking leisurely from the direction of the Ginza, passed Kyobashi, and made his way towards this noted stall. When he arrived there, he found two or three other customers standing. At first he hesitated, but after a moment he made up his mind to enter. As he was rather shy of mixing himself up with the other vulgar customers, he remained standing for a little while behind them.
Just then he noticed a small boy of thirteen or fourteen years of age pushing his way sideways into the stall. The boy edged Mr. A. aside, walked into the little space before him, and looked at the slanding counter on which some delicious sushi was invitingly displayed.
