Part 27 (1/2)

”We gain nothing by refusing, so she may as well,” said Elizabeth.

She waved her hands toward the second native, and Fangati, who had been watching her wistfully, bounded off with a gay laugh.

The girls awaited her return with mixed feelings. They were glad to see Fangati again, but they did not much desire the acquaintance of a strange native. They did not yet know whether it was a man or woman.

This doubt, however, was resolved in a few minutes. Scanning the approaching couple anxiously, they saw that Fangati's companion was a grey, shrunken old man, apparently feeble, for he moved slowly and leant on the girl for support.

”I believe it's the man we saw at the native hut,” said Mary.

”Not much to be afraid of, after all,” said Tommy. ”He looks hardly strong enough to kill a fly.”

”How shall we speak to him?” said Elizabeth.

”It will be rather a pantomime,” rejoined Tommy. ”Be very grave and dignified, Bess. Impress him with your importance, Queen Bess, monarch of all she surveys.”

”Don't be ridiculous, Tommy,” said Elizabeth, feeling it was no time for jesting. The old man certainly looked harmless enough, but she was by no means easy in mind.

After what seemed a long time, Fangati led the man up to the girls.

”Bess, Mailee, Me Tommee,” she said, pointing to each in turn.

The old man made a salutation, and the girls looked at him with interest. His face and every visible part of his body was hideously tattooed, his thin bare legs looking as if they were covered with indigo-blue stockings. A stick was thrust cross-wise through his mop of grizzled hair. Certainly he was not a prepossessing object.

The girls were wondering what they ought to do, when they were surprised to hear the man address them.

”I speak Inglis,” he said; ”I Maku. Good-day all-same velly much.”

Tommy turned aside so that her smile should not irritate or offend.

Elizabeth, with admirable composure, said--

”How do you do, Mr. Maku! Fangati is your granddaughter, I suppose?”

It was at once clear that Maku's English was not very abundant. The word grand-daughter puzzled him. He looked at Fangati dully; then his eyes suddenly brightened.

”Fangati, he my son chile,” he said. ”He velly good chile. He get plenty piecee me eat. To-mollow he go; I velly solly, eh! eh! I cly.”

Elizabeth in her turn was puzzled, and it was Mary who first saw the old man's meaning.

”He says that Fangati got him plenty to eat, but disappeared one day, and he was very sorry, and cried.”

”No wonder, poor old man!” cried Tommy. ”He looks half-starved.

There's no one else living in their hut, then?”

”Have you wife, children, friends?” asked Elizabeth.

The old man shook his head.

”Wife he dead long-timey. Chil'en big long way.” He waved his arm to indicate distance. ”Plen: ah! mikinaly he plen; he all-same gone away; eh! eh! all-same dead.”

From this Mary made out that he had a missionary friend who had gone away and might now be dead.