“Well—fast!” cried the woman, catching up his words quickly; and then, with the tears welling over from her great dark eyes, she bent down, caught at the Doctor’s hand, and held it quickly to her lips.
“Oh, oh, that’s all right,” said the Doctor hastily, as he drew back his hand and patted the woman’s shoulder.
“Look, uncle, what Dula has brought us!” cried Minnie; and she took from the veranda table a great bunch of the beautiful white creeper which the native women were fond of wearing in their black hair.
“Aha!” said the Doctor. “Thank you.—My fee, Archie.”
“Not all,” said Mrs Morley. “She has brought you one of those horrible durians;” and as the Doctor’s wife spoke Minnie caught up a little, bamboo-woven native basket, in which, carefully arranged among freshly gathered fern, was one of the peculiar-looking native fruits, the produce of one of the great trees so carefully planted and cared for in nearly every native village. “Don’t! Don’t touch the horrid thing, my dear,” whispered Mrs Morley.
“What!” cried the Doctor; and he took the great, hard-shelled fruit from the basket and turned it over in his hands. “Capital!” he cried. “A beauty!”
“Ugh!” ejaculated Mrs Morley; and Minnie screwed-up her face into a pretty grimace, as she once more exchanged glances with Archie.
“Doc-tor like?” questioned the woman, with an anxious look.
“Yes,” he replied, smiling. “I like them very much.”
“Like—very—much,” said the woman. “Dula glad.” And then, soothing her child tenderly, she whispered a few words to it in her native language.