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“Oh!” she said.

“That’s only for the singing,” said Gonji; “if we become convert to his religion he will pay more.”

He turned to his companions for verification. They had moved on their way and he made to join them.

“No, no, don’t go! Wait a little while, please!”

“Well?”

“What is ‘convert?’”

“Why,” the Japanese boy of sixteen racked his brain for an explanation of the word, “why, that’s to—ah—that’s just abandoning the gods for a new one.”

“Oh!” His sleeve dropped from her grasp and she drew back, her face somewhat blanched.

“Abandon the gods!” she repeated. “But if we do that, then the gods will be angry with us.”

“That is true,” nodded Gonji reflectively. “It’s bad business,” he added.

“Perhaps,” she essayed almost timidly, “that new God is also kind and good.”

Gonji shook his head skeptically.

“The priest at the temple says that he is really an evil spirit.”

The girl shuddered. She turned away from Gonji and he resumed his way down the hill.

Azalea walked listlessly back to the mission house. When she had reached it, she paused irresolute. A sudden idea had come to her. Why should she not pretend to be converted? When the barbarian priest had paid her she would go to the shrine of Kwannon and confess her lie. She would give half of the money to the gods, who would forgive her; she was hungry and ill-treated and she wished to leave the home of her step-mother, who was cruel to her. If money could be earned by a little lie, why should she not earn it? She would! She would!