Dolls of Hope Read Online Free PDF Page B

welcoming the dolls.”
    Chiyo stared at Masako’s
kokeshi
on a corner of the teacher’s desk while trying to understand Miyamoto Hoshi. Of course the girl must respect her father’s views.
    “We are told that the American children donated pennies for the project,” Sensei continued. “Our emperor will express our country’s gratitude. You — all of you — are invited to help pay for dolls to be made by our finest doll makers and sent in return to the children of America.”
    Chiyo sat straighter on her cushion, thinking of the coins that Yamada Nori had given her. “I would like to donate a sen.”
    “
Arigatogozaimasu,
Miss Tamura. I will place a donation box on my desk.”
    Chiyo waited to hear Hoshi offer to donate a sen, or even several, but the girl remained silent. Maybe she felt insulted by the teacher’s failure to agree with her father.
    Sensei continued, “The
Torei Ningyo,
or, in English, Dolls of Return Gratitude, will be ninety centimeters in height — thirty-five inches — the size of a small child.”
    Again, a murmur moved about the classroom. Chiyo thought of Yumi’s three-year-old sister. She was about ninety centimeters tall. The dolls going to America would be the size of little Kimi. Yamada-san had described the American dolls as much smaller, small enough to carry about in her arms.
    “Japan will send fifty-eight beautiful
Torei Ningyo
to America,” Sensei added. “Who can tell me why that number was selected?”
    The girls looked at one another. No one raised a hand. Maybe they were afraid to give a wrong answer. At last, Kimiko, a girl next to Chiyo, said, “It cannot be for the number of prefectures in Japan. There are only forty-seven.”
    Another girl risked asking, “Will they be named for our cities?”
    “You are both correct,” Sensei answered, and a soft sigh of relief swept the class. “Most of the fifty-eight will represent our prefectures. Others will bear the names of territories and of our largest cities.”
    She glanced around the class. “Can you tell me what the fifty-eighth doll is to represent?” She glanced toward the back. “Miss Miyamoto?”
    “I am sorry, Sensei,” Hoshi answered. “I do not know.”
    Chiyo saw several girls glance at one another. Was Hoshi sulking and refusing to answer? Then a girl near Kimiko suggested, “The emperor and empress.”
    “You are close,” the teacher told her.
    Chiyo raised her hand as inspiration struck. “Will the last doll represent all of Japan?”
    “Hai,”
Sensei said. “The finest doll will be given by the emperor and empress and will be called Miss Dai Nippon, or, in English, ‘Miss Japan.’”
    Sensei marked a mathematics problem on the board, explaining the distance from San Francisco to Yokohama and telling them that the American dolls’ journey had taken ten days.
    “Use your slates to work out answers. How fast did the ships travel? How far did they travel in one day?”
    Chiyo tried to work out the problems, but her thoughts kept drifting from the ships to the dolls they had carried. What would they look like? Some might have blond curly hair and even blue eyes, far different from dolls made in Japan. She hoped she would have a chance to hold one of them.
    “Miss Tamura.” Sensei’s voice wrenched her back to the classroom. “Do you have the answer?”
    “No, Sensei,” she answered, regretting the seat in the front row. “I am still working on it.”
    Hoshi spoke into the pause, again sounding sad. “Be careful of opening your hearts to the dolls, my friends. My father, General Miyamoto, would give his life for our emperor, but he fears that someday we will regret welcoming these foreign dolls. They should be destroyed. The emperor will come to see that.”
    The other girls murmured in dismay, and for a moment, Chiyo felt sorry for Hoshi. What must it be like to have a father who wanted the emperor to wage war against dolls?
    When class was dismissed, the girls left the room in orderly