s?"

"I don't know," Felix answered, taken aback himself. "I can't say exactly
in what you've transgressed. But you must, unconsciously, in some way
have offended their prejudices. I hope it's not much. At any rate they're
clearly afraid to touch us."

"Missy Queenie break taboo," Mali explained at once, with Polynesian
frankness. "That make people angry. So him want to kill you. Missy
Queenie touch bride with end of her dress. Korong may smile on
bride--that very good luck; but Korong taboo; no must touch him."

The crowd gathered around them, still very threatening in attitude, yet
clearly afraid to approach within arm's-length of the strangers. Muriel
was much frightened at their noise and at their frantic gestures. "Come
away," she cried, catching Felix by the arm once more. "Oh, what are they
going to do to us? Will they kill us for this? I'm so horribly afraid!
Oh, why did I ever do it!"

The poor little bride, meanwhile, left alone on the carpet, and unnoticed
by everybody, sank suddenly down on the mats where she stood, buried her
face in her hands, and began to sob as if her heart would break.
Evidently, something very untoward of some sort had happened to the dusky
lady on her wedding morning.

The final touch was too much for poor Muriel's overwrought nerves. She,
too, gave way in a tempest of sobs, and, subsiding on one of the native
stools hard by, burst into tears herself with half-hysterical violence.

Instantly, as she did so, the whole assembly seemed to change its mind
again as if by contagious magic. A loud shout of "She cries; the Queen of
the Clouds cries!" went up from all the assembled mob to heaven. "It is a
good omen," Toko, the Shadow, whispered in Polynesian to Felix, seeing
his puzzled look. "We shall have plenty of rain now; the clouds will
break; our crops will flourish." Almost before she understood it, Muriel
was surrounded by an eager and friendly crowd, still afraid to draw near,
but evidently anxious to see and to comfort and console her. Many of the
women eagerly held forward their native mats, which Mali took from them,
and, pressing them for a second against Muriel's eyes, handed them back
with just a suspicion of wet tears left glistening in the corner. The
happy recipients leaped and shouted with joy. "No more drought!" they
cried merrily, with loud shouts and gesticulations. "The Queen of the
Clouds is good: she will weep well from heaven upon my yam and taro
plots!"

Mur