"I knew his poor mother, and for her sake I'll not see this done," cried John Dump. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it.
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