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, striped negligee shirt, which he himself offered the old man. The expression on the shining face of the native as he received this fresh gift, was something to remember. It was brother looking into brother's face, with a something too deep for words. It was an expression that one would like to meet again, in the world beyond.
"Let's give him a hat," said George Jr., who had joined the group on the veranda, "there are a lot on the hat-tree to spare." The tattered hat under Kalani's arm had not spoken in vain. As the boy was searching for one, his father cried to him, "Bring the silk hat from the top peg." "No, no," said Mrs. Hamilton, "don't let us spoil a good thing by allowing the old man to think we are making fun of him." "Fun of him!" said Mr. Hamilton, "I tell you I know what will please his soul, and it's a silk hat, now see if it's not." George first handed his mother a brown derby, only slightly the worse for wear, and then a silk hat still possessed of a good shine but not the most modern in shape. Having only the first in evidence, Mrs. Hamilton again addressed Kalani. "Do you think you could wear this hat?" "That hat for me? Oh how fine! Yes, yes, I know—" here his words failed, for his eyes had caught sight of the silk hat, which Mr. Hamilton was in a great hurry to prove would be the climax of his life. "Here, try this, I guess you can make it stick on," he said. The brown derby fell among the ferns, and trembling hands seized the shining beaver. "Auwe, auwe! heaha keia! ka nani! ka maikai! Auwe! ka lokomaikai!"[[5]] Over the shining bald head it was pressed, coaxed, urged and settled, and it was a tight fit. "There," said Mr. Hamilton, "I told you so, he would wear that hat if it killed him, rather than not take it when he had the chance! Of course he never had a silk hat before in his life."
[5]: "Oh my! oh my! what's this! how splendid, how fine! Ah, what generosity!"
The old man was speechless and voluble by turns. His good fortune choked him, but the joys of possession ran over his eyes and sparkled in every square inch of his honest face. Ruth brought some wrapping paper, and Mrs. Hamilton helped fold the articles for easy carrying. "But my hat, how am I going to carry my hat?" he wailed. "I'll wear this one," putting the derby on his head, "but this papale kilika (silk hat) is to wear to church, and how am I to carry it home?" Another paper was brought, and, with twine, a secure package was made, with a loop to slip over his arm. Then a fresh idea came to the old man. Conscious of the humor of the whole situation, he said, "You have left me only one thing to ask for," and he raised a foot to which was bound a much worn shoe. "Shoes!" cried Ruth, "May I find some, Mamma?" and in less time than it takes to tell it she was back with a pair of half-worn brogans that were more beautiful in Kalani's eyes than the handsomest ten-dollar boots that ever came out of a shoe emporium. Now there really seemed to be nothing left but for the old man to go, but he had something to say.
Lifting his happy face, he said, "You have been very good to me. I have no money to buy such things for myself, and I was going to ask only for a coat. I live in Palolo valley, and have no means of earning anything. I brought a few eggs with me, thinking I could change them for something to take back to my old wife, but now I would like to give them to you." He slipped the cover from his pail and held up to Mrs. Hamilton's view the half dozen small eggs. Tears filled her eyes at his honest, dignified independence. "No, no," said she, slipping a coin in among the eggs, "get something for the wife with the eggs, and give her our aloha."