The doctor comprehended that he also had his work cut out. While the girl kept the patient from dwelling upon his misfortunes, whatever these were, he himself would have to keep the girl from brooding over hers. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. His curiosity put itself into a question.
"Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. I believe it amused him. I was a novelty. He was always in a state of semi-intoxication, but he was always gentle with me. Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. Thank you for the books."
"You were born on the island?"
"I believe so."
"You don't remember your mother?"
"Oh, no; she died when I was very little."
She showed him the locket; and he studied the face. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. He returned the locket without comment.
"Perhaps things would have been different if she had lived."
"No doubt," he replied. "Mine died while I was over here. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition."
"I am sorry."