"Who wouldn't butt heads with a fellow like that? Granted we all fib on occasion. When we've done wrong by someone, or when necessary to maintain appearances -- Who hasn't been deceitful at times? But that fellow's another thing altogether. He fibs for the sake of fibbing. He's not even after anyting -- He's utterly brazen and seems to know no shame."
"Right you are. The worst of it is it's all for his own amusement."
"I go over there in all sincerity to inquire about Mizushima, and it all descends into chaos. I'm met with obstinance and offense -- Even so, I wasn't unobliged. I never impose without recompense, so I sent the driver back with a dozen bottles of beer. Can you imagine what happened? The master refused them outright, telling the driver to take them away. The driver persisted, saying it was the least we could do. -- 'I take a little jam each day, but I never touch this bitter stuff,' he says, and disappears inside. Spiteful man! And such a lame excuse! Have you ever heard of such insolence?"
"How awful!" By now the caller is in fullest sympathy.
"That's why we've asked you here today." Mr. Kaneda is heard after a moment's pause. "We can rile this goon from the shadows, but that's hardly ideal ..." Mr. Kaneda pats his own bald head again, just as does while feasting on tuna sashimi. Of course since I'm under the veranda, I don't actually see him pat his head. The sound, however, has become sufficiently familiar. A Buddhist nun discerns in an instant the ring of the temple block. Likewise, I immediately tie this patting sound, even from under the veranda, to the bald head that produced it. "We'd like to impose on you if we may ..."