ing is finished;
the man washes his hands in the water of a nut, splitting it open and
squeezing the water in a little spray on to his hands. Mrs. Agelan
knows a simpler way; she fills her mouth with water and squirts it on
her hands. The cocoa-nut gratings are kneaded with a little water,
while the girls sweep the earth off the cooking-place and uncover
the stones; an appetizing smell spreads, and the master of the house
watches the preparations with a sharp eye and a silent tongue. One
feels that the least carelessness will provoke an outburst, and,
indeed, a solemn silence has fallen on the company, only the wife
smiles quietly.

"Lap-lap banana good!" Agelan roars in my ear, and I nod assent. Now
the hot stones are removed with bamboo tongs, and the great flat
object, wrapped in banana leaves, is taken out. Mrs. Agelan throws back
the leaves and uncovers the beautifully cooked golden lap-lap. Her
lord looks at it critically, and returns to his corner silent, but
evidently satisfied. His wife cannot quite hide a smile of pride.

The stranger now squeezes the cocoa-nut gratings over a wooden bowl,
and a creamy juice runs through his fingers. The bowl is brought to
Agelan, who looks at it as if reading an oracle; then he selects a
hot stone from his own fire, and sends the bowl back to be embedded
in the gratings. He approaches with his stone in a wooden fork,
and squats down near the bowl lost in thought, as if anxious not to
miss the right moment; then he drops the stone into the milk, which
hisses, bubbles and steams. A fine smell of burnt fat is noticeable;
and while the liquid thickens, Agelan behaves as if he could perform
miracles and was in league with supernatural powers. After a while
his wife hands him the bowl, and he holds it over the pudding,
undecided how and where to pour the milk; one would think the fate
and welfare of creation depended on his action. Being a man of energy,
he makes up his mind, and pours one stream right across the pudding,
then empties his bowl and retires with a sigh to his seat. About ten
more bowlfuls are needed, but these are poured by Mrs. Agelan without
further ceremony. The solemn hush is over. With a long bush-knife,
Mama cuts the pudding into strips and squares and distributes it,
and the meal proceeds amid general satisfaction. I am given a large
slab; fortunately it tastes very good and is easily digestible,
for politeness ordains that one must eat enormous quantities.