AN ISLAND ROMANCE. 15 



fluous nature, and were engaged in the somewhat trying 

 occupation of collecting spiders, we felt considerably out 

 of it. 



However, I daresay we misjudged poor Adolphus ; 

 possibly Caffiana was at the bottom of the whole business. 

 We rather think so, because whenever Adolphus came 

 imder the range of vision of this susceptible lady, Caf&ana 

 tossed her head high, gave a superbly disdainful glance 

 at the patent-leather shoes, and subsided into throaty 

 giggles and highly nervous laughter. And these signs I 

 took to be symptomatic of the dawn of a romance. On 

 any other day than Sunday, Adolphus was far more 

 approachable. Sometimes we would come across him 

 and the other " boys " in the cocoanut plantations, when, 

 tired perhaps with tramping the woods in search of birds, 

 we would fling ourselves down and watch them husking 

 the nuts. 



How many times since have we pictured such truly 

 tropical scenes and longed to see them again ! The green 

 gloom beneath the feathery canopy of palm fronds is 

 pierced with a hundred stabbing shafts of glinting sun- 

 hght ; a small space, where a tree or two had fallen 

 beneath the stroke of a storm, is ablaze with, sunshine and 

 genial warmth, in contrast with the deep shade elsewhere^ 

 where guinea-grass of the deepest green grows knee-high ; 

 the little gang of workers keep up a continuous jabber^ 

 interspersed with bursts of high falsetto laughter. One 

 hears a constant rip and tearing as the smooth, green 

 coverings of the nuts are deftly prized open, and the thick 

 inner lining of rich brown fibre is exposed ; the piles of 

 nuts grow larger and larger as we sit lazily by and watch. 

 They are sorted into heaps, according to their size, by 

 being passed through iron rings which project from stakes 

 stuck upright in the ground. Another heap is formed of 

 the empty husks, while a little way off is still another one 

 composed of the rotting relics of a previous gathering » 

 In this heap an English fox-terrier is hard at work, franti- 

 cally scraping and burrowing for an imaginary rat. 



