ought of the time for hours--and
found that it was a little after noon. It was time that he bestirred
himself and found lodgings.

"Is there a hotel?" he asked cheerfully. He had noticed that the
islanders understood legitimate French, though they could not speak
it.

"There is one," said the woman. She pushed away her plate and became
suddenly dourly communicative. "But I doubt if the _proprietaire_
would find room for m'sieu'."

"Has he so many guests, then?"

"But no. M'sieu' has forgotten the priest."

"The priest? What has he to do with it?"

"My son tells me that m'sieu' offended him, and the _proprietaire_ is
a good Catholic. He will close his house to you."

She shaved a splinter to a point with a table knife and picked her
teeth with it, both elbows on the table and her eyes on Simpson.
"There is nowhere else to stay," she said. "Unless--here."

"I should prefer that," said Simpson--quickly, for reluctance and
distrust were rising in him again. "But have you a room?"

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at a door behind her.

"There," she said. Simpson waited for her to move, saw that she had no
intention of doing so, and opened the door himself.

The room was fairly large, with two windows screened but unglazed; a
canvas cot stood in one corner, a packing-box table and a decrepit
chair in another. Like the kitchen it was surprisingly clean. He
returned to his hostess, who showed no anxiety about his intentions.

"How much by the week?" he asked.

"Eight _gourdes_."

"And you will feed me for how much?"

"Fifteen _gourdes_."

"I will take it." He forced himself to decision again; had he
hesitated he knew he would have gone elsewhere. The price also--less
than four dollars gold--attracted him, and he could doubtless buy some
furniture in the town. Moreover, experienced missionaries who had
talked before the board had always emphasized the value of living
among the natives.

"_B'en_," said the negress. She rose and emptied the remains from her
plate into a tin pail, sponging the plate with a piece of bread.

"I have a trunk on the steamer," said Simpson. "The boy--can he----"

"He will go with you," the negress interrupted.

The cripple slid from his chair, scraped his plate and Simpson's, put
on his battered straw hat, and shambled into the yard. Simpson
followed.

He turned at the gate and looked back. The child had toddled to the
door and was standing there, holding on to the door-