200 MYSTIC ISLES 



or tint of the Polynesian except in the slight harshness 

 of the contours of her face, and that her legs were more 

 like yellow satin than white. Her foot would have 

 given Du Maurier inspiration for a brown Trilby. It 

 was long, high-arched, perfect; the toes, never having 

 known shoes, natural and capable of grasp, and the 

 ankle delicate, yet strong. Her father she believed to 

 have been a French official who had stayed only a brief 

 period in Bora-Bora, her mother's island, and whose 

 very name was forgotten by her. She had not seen her 

 mother since her first year, having, as is the custom here, 

 been adopted by others. 



Poia had a head like a cocoanut, her eyes shiny, black 

 buttons, her body roly-poly, and her pinkish-yellow 

 feet and hands adorable. Evoa was dressing her for 

 the market in a red muslin slip, a knitted shawl of white 

 edged with blue, and, shades of Fahrenheit! a cap with 

 pink ribbons, and socks of orange. Evoa herself would 

 wear a simple tunic, which was most of the time 

 pulled down over the shoulder to give Poia ingress to 

 her white breast. Poia was like a flower, and I had 

 never heard her cry, this good nature being accounted 

 for perhaps by an absence of pins, as she was 

 usually naked. She had two teeth barely peeping from 

 below. 



Evoa spoke only Tahitian, which is the same tongue 

 as that spoken in Bora-Bora, and she was totally with- 

 out education. Afa had found her, and brought her to 

 his cabin in the garden. He did not claim to be the 

 father of Poia, but was delighted, as are all Polynesians, 

 to find a mate and, with her, certainty of a little one. 

 They have not our selfishness of paternity, but find in 



