Page:Modern Japanese Stories.pdf/83

 mistake and he stood there laughing loudly to himself. He laughed all the way home.

Whenever he passed a grocery, a curio-shop, a confectioner’s or in fact any place that sold gourds, he stood for minutes on end, his eyes glued to the window appraising the precious fruit.

Seibei was twelve years old and still at primary school. After class, instead of playing with the other children, he usually wandered about the town looking for gourds. Then in the evening he would sit cross-legged in the corner of the living-room working on his newly-acquired fruit. When he had finished treating it, he poured in a little saké, inserted a cork stopper which he had fashioned himself, wrapped it in a towel, put this in a tin especially kept for the purpose and finally placed the whole thing in the charcoal footwarmer. Then he went to bed.

As soon as he woke the next morning, he would open the tin and examine the gourd. The skin would be thoroughly damp from the overnight treatment. Seibei would gaze adoringly at his treasure before tying a string round the middle and hanging it in the sun to dry. Then he set out for school.

Seibei lived in a harbour town. Although it was officially a city, one could walk from one end to the other in a matter of twenty minutes. Seibei was always wandering about the streets and had soon come to know every place that sold gourds and to recognize almost every gourd on the market.

He did not care much about the old, gnarled, peculiarly-formed gourds usually favoured by collectors. The type that appealed to Seibei was even and symmetrical.

“That youngster of yours only seems to like the ordinary-looking ones,” said a friend of his father’s who had come to call. He pointed at the boy, who was sitting in the corner busily polishing a plain, round gourd.

“Fancy a lad spending his time playing around like that with gourds!” said his father, giving Seibei a disgusted look.

“See here, Seibei my lad,” said the friend, “there’s no use