idences of
youth. Was it possible I considered myself a child? Or was I younger
than I looked? Next my skin was marvelled at, and they took my hands
in theirs and shouted with good-natured laughter at the difference
in colour between us, for despite two and a half years of tropic tan,
my skin, compared with theirs, was very light.

Before I realized what they were doing, they had unbuttoned the cuff
of my shirt-waist and pushed the sleeve a little way up my arm,
evidently anxious to see if I were white all over, while at the
same moment a small girl of twelve, married or of marriageable age,
as one could tell from her stained teeth, knelt down on the ground
at my feet and was apparently examining my shoes.

Suddenly she gave a startled cry, and before I could prevent her,
lifted my skirt and petticoat to the ankle, revealing a small expanse
of black lisle thread stocking. For a moment there was an intense
silence, followed by a low murmur of astonishment, which soon grew
into a veritable roar of displeasure, and the women no longer beamed
approvingly, but gathered together on one side, regarding me with
great disfavour.

I was dumfounded at this sudden change of manner, and could not
account for it in any way, until I saw some of the blackest among them
pointing to their own bare legs with apparent pride, and then turning
scornfully and motioning in my direction. Did they object to my wearing
stockings? Or was it possible they had mistaken the stockings for skin?

Acting on this very improbable suggestion, I demonstrated that the
black outside covering could easily be peeled off, whereupon there was
great amazement, and once again the women crowded around in deifying
adulation. They had thought their American idol had worse than clay
feet, that the feet were black, blacker even than their own dusky
skins, and their relief was obvious at finding the dark flesh but a
close fitting covering.

So it was I was again restored to favour, and the women with swift,
shy gestures fingered my dress and hat, my army belt, and the red silk
handkerchief at the throat of my sailor collar, saying, "Mariloa,
mariloa" over and over, which in their tongue means "pretty" or
"good," depending on how it is used.

They laughed at my shoes, spreading out their flexible toes that
I might see how much more comfortable feet were unshod, and then
pointed to their hands, indicating that it were quite as sensible
to wear shoes there as on the