shop, she watched her husband absorbed in the work of sharpening the razor. Kin-ko was sitting on one of the barber’s shairs, with one leg aslant, and was shaving the other leg up and down with his own razor.
Suddenly the glass door opened, and there appeared a young man of low stature, about twenty-one or two years of age. He wore a new Japanese lined garment of half silk, and had his Heko-sash knotted in front of his body. A pair of new-fashioned komageta-clogs were on his feet.
“I want to be shaved as quickly as possible, and I don’t care if you do it roughly.” He then came and stood directly in front of one of the mirrors, and biting his lower lip, put out his chin, and stroked it repeatedly with his fingers. He spoke smartly, but his tone was decidedly rustic. His knotted fingers and his rough brown face showed that he was employed in some hard labor by day.
“Send for Kane-ko at once!” cried the barber’s wife.
“No, that is not at all necessary, I can shave him myself,” said the barber.
“But today your hands are shaky, my dear.”
“All the same, I shall do it,” insisted Yoshisaburo flatly interrupting his wife.
“You are beside yourself!” she cried angrily.
“Bring me my working clothes!”
“Your everyday clothes will do, won’t they? They are quite good enough to give anyone a shave in,” said O-Ume-san, who did not like her sick husband to take
