tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">^[3] There was always a plenty of poi^[4] in the calabash; ti roots, kukui-nuts, cocoa-nuts and breadfruit abounded for more delicate dishes. They themselves were well and strong, and oh! how proud they were of their boy and girl. Like a dream had been the years between. Sovereign had succeeded sovereign. Epidemics has decimated the people. The konohiki labor had lapsed. Strangers had leased the lands, fences now barred the way, and keys effectually locked the fastnesses from the ramblers and seekers for shells and ferns. Their own acres had been cajoled away from them, and only this little hut far up the valley, and a small plot of land, on which they with difficulty raised a little taro and a few sweet potatoes, remained. They were allowed to retain possession of this as compensation for guarding the leased lands of the valley against trespassers, but they received no money. The children had grown and gone. The daughter had married and lived a few years at Kona, Hawaii, then died. The son had braved the Arctic cold and had been a sailor for years on a whale ship. But many, many moons had passed since his last visit home; probably he, too, was dead. They themselves were growing old now; they had no chance to earn money; economy had crystallized for them into the problem of how long they could make things last. Kalani would be broken-hearted when his coat was too old to wear to church, for, rain or sun, he faithfully attended the service at the mouth of the valley every Sunday afternoon, walking several miles to do so. While Nalima sewed and mused, Kalani, wrestling with mountain nahelehele (wild growth) was thinking too. Perhaps the vigor in the arm that drove the o-o into the grass stirred the thought cells in his head; the mental result, however, was not retrospection, but determination to do some thing in the immediate future to help the present condition of affairs. "I must have a new coat. I cannot wear my old one to church any longer. I have no money, but perhaps some one will give me clothes if I ask for them. I have never begged, and Nalima wouldn't let me beg now if she knew about it; I musn't tell her. It is more than two years since I have been beyond the church, but there are haole (foreign) families living not far from there, and I'll go to them. I'll tell Nalima I'm going to try to sell some eggs, we've got six saved in the pail, and perhaps I can buy some salmon to bring home to her. It would taste good (ono loa) to her. I'll go tomorrow morning." And, full of his resolve, Kalani shouldered his o-o and returned to his hut.

[3]: A cloth made from bark.

[4]: The Hawaiian "staff of life." A paste made of pounded taro root mixed with water.

Chapter II.

"Ruth, please see who is knocking at the side door," said Mrs. Hamilton early one morning in the month of August. "It's a native man, Mamma," said Ruth a moment later, "he wants to see you, but says he can wait until you can come. I think he has never been here before; he is very old; and he has a small tin pail with him." When Mrs. Hamilton opened the door leading to the veranda, the rising sun was glorifying a strip of lawn, glancing among young orange trees, glowing along an hibiscus hedge, and giving an effect beyond description to a golden-shower tree in full bloom. On either side of the steps leading to the drive, banks of ferns stood crisp and cool. The grass was bright with fairy rainbows strung on drops of dew. "Oh, what a morning to be alive!" thought Mrs. Hamilton, "what, I wonder, will be the first thing given me to do this beautiful day?" From the lower step arose, at this instant, Kalani. With the grace and dignity natural to the Hawaiian, he bared his head, and, holding his tattered hat in his hand, gave the friendly salutation "Aloha" which Mrs. Hamilton returned in as friendly a tone. Noting in an instant the splendid proportions of his head, his fine brow, and the character which shone from every feature of his up-turned face, it was with the sincerest interest that she asked in Hawaiian, "What can I do for you, what would you like?" Kalani took a step sideways into the ferns, still looking up into her eyes, and, with various apologetic expressions flitting across his face, finally took hold of the lapel of his coat with his left hand and, drawing it slightly forward, said, "I didn't know but perhaps you had a cast-off coat that you would be willing to give me. This one is very old and has many holes. If I had a better one I should wear it to church and that would be maikai loa (very pleasant), but, if not, never mind, it will be all right" (like pu, he maikai no ia). Mrs. Hamilton's quick eye took in at a glance the entire suit in which this son of the soil stood. His garments showed their many patches, and she thought that the colors of the remnants still clinging together, would be difficult to reproduce upon any painter's palette. Stepping within the bedroom door she found Mr. Hamilton adjusting his necktie before the mirror. "George," she said, "do you suppose you have a second-hand coat I might give this man? He needs one badly enough. There is something singularly appealing about him, and, you can see in a moment, he is no beggar."

"Yes, I guess so," said Mr. Hamilton, first taking a glance through the door at Kalani and then proceeding to his wardrobe. Presently he returned and handed his wife an entire suit of grey woolen clothes. "My," said she, "he has asked only for a coat! I'll give them to him one by one. Come out and enjoy the good time with me." Returning to the veranda she held up the coat. "Do you suppose this will fit you?" she asked. "Oh yes, yes!" was the quick reply, "you must see for yourself," and his hands trembled as he carefully withdrew the delicate coat he wore from his shoulders. "See, see, it fits, it fits!" (Ku no, ku no!) and his hands stroked down the sleeves, and lovingly patted the pocket flaps.

His expressions of delight and appreciation were cut short by Mrs. Hamilton's holding up the trousers. "What do you think about these?" Kalani shot a lightning glance at Mr. Hamilton, who stood on the veranda enjoying the scene, and said "Oh, yes, we are just the same size." "He," pointing to Mr. Hamilton, "isn't any bigger than I am." Taking the trousers, the old man avowed most solemnly that they would be just right (ku pono loa). "Besides," said he with a look of conscious pride, "I've got an old wife who can fix them if they are not." So that point was settled. The vest was now held up. "Of course you don't want this," said Mrs. Hamilton, "it will make you too warm." "A vest, a vest!" he cried, "no it won't, oh, I shall be too proud for anything, (hookano maoli) to have a vest!"

All three were laughing by this time, Kalani as much as the others. "Dear me," said Mr. Hamilton, "this is getting interesting. I must see if I can't find him something else." In a moment he was back with a neat,