hich he was amazed to
find very good eating. Then an incident happened which to Bateman was
the most mortifying experience of the evening. There was a little
circlet of flowers in front of him, and for the sake of conversation he
hazarded a remark about it.

"It's a wreath that Eva made for you," said Jackson, "but I guess she
was too shy to give it you."

Bateman took it up in his hand and made a polite little speech of thanks
to the girl.

"You must put it on," she said, with a smile and a blush.

"I? I don't think I'll do that."

"It's the charming custom of the country," said Arnold Jackson.

There was one in front of him and he placed it on his hair. Edward did
the same.

"I guess I'm not dressed for the part," said Bateman, uneasily.

"Would you like a _pareo_?" said Eva quickly. "I'll get you one in a
minute."

"No, thank you. I'm quite comfortable as I am."

"Show him how to put it on, Eva," said Edward.

At that moment Bateman hated his greatest friend. Eva got up from the
table and with much laughter placed the wreath on his black hair.

"It suits you very well," said Mrs Jackson. "Don't it suit him, Arnold?"

"Of course it does."

Bateman sweated at every pore.

"Isn't it a pity it's dark?" said Eva. "We could photograph you all
three together."

Bateman thanked his stars it was. He felt that he must look prodigiously
foolish in his blue serge suit and high collar--very neat and
gentlemanly--with that ridiculous wreath of flowers on his head. He was
seething with indignation, and he had never in his life exercised more
self-control than now when he presented an affable exterior. He was
furious with that old man, sitting at the head of the table, half-naked,
with his saintly face and the flowers on his handsome white locks. The
whole position was monstrous.

Then dinner came to an end, and Eva and her mother remained to clear
away while the three men sat on the verandah. It was very warm and the
air was scented with the white flowers of the night. The full moon,
sailing across an unclouded sky, made a pathway on the broad sea that
led to the boundless realms of Forever. Arnold Jackson began to talk.
His voice was rich and musical. He talked now of the natives and of the
old legends of the country. He told strange stories of the past, stories
of hazardous expeditions into the unknown, of love and death, of hatred
and revenge. He told of the adventurers who had discovered those distant
isl