d they went down the stairs side by side. Miss
Thompson's door was open, and they saw her in a bedraggled
dressing-gown, cooking something in a chafing-dish.

"Good morning," she called. "Is Mr Davidson better this morning?"

They passed her in silence, with their noses in the air, as if she did
not exist. They flushed, however, when she burst into a shout of
derisive laughter. Mrs Davidson turned on her suddenly.

"Don't you dare to speak to me," she screamed. "If you insult me I shall
have you turned out of here."

"Say, did I ask Mr Davidson to visit with me?"

"Don't answer her," whispered Mrs Macphail hurriedly.

They walked on till they were out of earshot.

"She's brazen, brazen," burst from Mrs Davidson.

Her anger almost suffocated her.

And on their way home they met her strolling towards the quay. She had
all her finery on. Her great white hat with its vulgar, showy flowers
was an affront. She called out cheerily to them as she went by, and a
couple of American sailors who were standing there grinned as the ladies
set their faces to an icy stare. They got in just before the rain began
to fall again.

"I guess she'll get her fine clothes spoilt," said Mrs Davidson with a
bitter sneer.

Davidson did not come in till they were half way through dinner. He was
wet through, but he would not change. He sat, morose and silent,
refusing to eat more than a mouthful, and he stared at the slanting
rain. When Mrs Davidson told him of their two encounters with Miss
Thompson he did not answer. His deepening frown alone showed that he had
heard.

"Don't you think we ought to make Mr Horn turn her out of here?" asked
Mrs Davidson. "We can't allow her to insult us."

"There doesn't seem to be any other place for her to go," said Macphail.

"She can live with one of the natives."

"In weather like this a native hut must be a rather uncomfortable place
to live in."

"I lived in one for years," said the missionary.

When the little native girl brought in the fried bananas which formed
the sweet they had every day, Davidson turned to her.

"Ask Miss Thompson when it would be convenient for me to see her," he
said.

The girl nodded shyly and went out.

"What do you want to see her for, Alfred?" asked his wife.

"It's my duty to see her. I won't act till I've given her every chance."

"You don't know what she is. She'll insult you."

"Let her insult me. Let her spit on me. She has an immortal soul, and I