CHAPTER VII.
INTERCHANGE OF CIVILITIES.
All night long, without intermission, the heavy tropical rain descended in torrents; at sunrise it ceased, and a bright blue vault of sky stood in a spotless dome over the island of Boupari.
As soon as the sun was well risen, and the rain had ceased, one shy native girl after another came straggling up timidly to the white line that marked the taboo round Felix and Muriel's huts.

They came with more baskets of fruit and eggs.

Humbly saluting three times as they drew near, they laid down their gifts modestly just outside the line, with many loud ejaculations of praise and gratitude to the gods in their own language.
"What do they say ?" Muriel asked, in a dazed and frightened way, looking out of the hut door, and turning in wonder to Mali.
"They say, 'Thank you, Queenie, for rain and fruits,'" Mali answered, unconcerned, bustling about in the hut.

"Missy want to wash him face and hands this morning?
Lady always wash every day over yonder in Queensland." Muriel nodded assent.

It was all so strange to her.