hite associations, and sauntered up and down
the shady path at the side of his dwelling, thinking of Doris, and if
he would ever see her again. Then he entered the house.

* * * * *

Seated on the matted floor with her face turned from him was a young
native girl--Luita, his wife. She was making a hat from the bleached
strands of the pandanus leaf, and as she worked she sang softly to
herself in the semi-Tahitian tongue of her people.

Brantley, lazily stretching himself out on a rough mat-covered couch,
turned towards her, and watched the slender, supple fingers--covered,
in Polynesian fashion, with heavy gold rings--as they deftly drew out
the snow-white strands of the pandanus. The long, glossy, black waves
of hair that fell over her bare back and bosom like a mantle of night
hid her face from his view, and the man let his glance rest in
contented admiration upon the graceful curves of the youthful figure;
then he sighed softly, and again his eyes turned to the wide, sailless
expanse of the Pacific, that lay shimmering and sparkling before him
under a cloudless sky of blue, and he thought again of Doris.

* * * * *

Steadily the little hands worked in and out among the snowy strands,
and now and then, as she came to the TARI, or refrain, of the old
Paumotuan love-song, her soft liquid tones would blend with the
quavering treble of children that played outside.

"Terunavahori, teeth of pearl,
Knit the sandals for Talaloo's feet,
Sandals of AFA thick and strong,
Bind them well with thy long black hair."

Suddenly the song ceased, and with a quick movement of her shoulders
she threw back the cloud of hair that fell around her arms and bosom,
looked up at Brantley and laughed, and, striking the mat on which she
sat with her open palm, said--

"HAERE MAI, PARANILI."

He rose from the couch and stooped beside her, with his hands resting
on his knees, and bending his brow in mock criticism, regarded her
handiwork intently.

Springing to her feet, hat in hand, and placing her two hands on his
now erect shoulders, she looked into his face--darker far than her
own--and said with a smile--

"Behold, Paranili, thy PULOU is finished, save for a band of black
PU'AVA which thou shalt give me from the store."

"Mine?" said Brantley, in pretended ignorance. "Why labour so for me?
Are there not hats in plenty on Vahitahi?"

"True, O thankless one! but the women of the village say that thou
lookest upon m