or cotton with the abaca hemp."

"I am sure our friend would like to learn about sugar," remarked Fil,
who had a sweet tooth for candy.

Fil's father took up this part of the story, and said:

"Sugar of course comes from a sweet cane, which is grown on high
land. The cane is cut down. A pony or a water buffalo is harnessed to
a roller. We feed the ripened cane into the rollers. As the animal
drives this roller around, the sugar cane is pressed through. The
sweet juice is caught and put into kettles. This juice is heated
several times, and stirred, and purified by bone charcoal. The white
crystals separate from the dark molasses sirup. We sometimes feed
the molasses to cattle and pigs, to make them fat for market."

Fil's eyes looked very longingly as he listened to this tale of good
things; so I passed him a penny or two.

"Is not sugar made also from very sweet, dark beets?" I inquired.

"Not in these islands," replied the Padre. "We find that the sugar
cane gives a sweeter and a more nutritious product. The beet sugar
is made in Europe and in the western states of America."

"What do you do with the pressed sugar cane?" I inquired.

"We spread it out in the sun and dry it in large yards. It still
contains much sugar. We use it for fuel, to light the fires under
the kettles."

"What a waste!" I exclaimed. "You should use oil or gas for fuel, and
should press every drop of sugar out of that valuable cane. Waste not;
want not, is as good a maxim for a nation as for a boy."

"If you are always that serious, like a lecturer, the children may
not like you so well," remarked the gentle Padre.

"Not at all," replied Fil and Moro and Filippa and Favra, who perhaps
remembered the pennies I had given to them. Then I hummed as we went
home to have lunch, or "tiffin," as they call it:

"All lectures and no candy or fun
Make Moro and Fil dull boys."

CHAPTER VII

THE COCONUT TREE

Moro was always up to tricks. I noticed that he was whispering
something to Filippa who was laughing.

"Tell it out," demanded Filippa's mother.

"The bad boy said the coconut, which we are trying to break, is a
hairy monkey's head dried."

"Let me see it," I demanded.

Surely enough, there was plainly marked a monkey's eyes and mouth
and hair and nose.

"We'll soon settle this," said Fil, who dashed the coconut on a stone,
broke the hard shell, wasted half the sweet milk,--exposing the white,
fragrant meat.