And this was a sample of their gratitude, she thought. It looked as if Sheldon had been right after all. Aroa waited stolidly. A leaping fish splashed far out on the water. A tiny wavelet murmured sleepily on the beach. The shadow of a flying-fox drifted by in velvet silence overhead. A light air fanned coolly on her cheek; it was the land-breeze beginning to blow.
“You go along quarters,” she said, starting to turn on her heel to enter the gate.
“You pay me,” said the boy.
“Aroa, you all the same one big fool. I no pay you. Now you go.”
But the black was unmoved. She felt that he was regarding her almost insolently as he repeated:
“I take ’m medicine. You pay me. You pay me now.”
Then it was that she lost her temper and cuffed his ears so soundly as to drive him back among his fellows. But they did not break up. Another boy stepped forward.
“You pay me,” he said.
His eyes had the querulous, troubled look such as she had noticed in monkeys; but while he was patently uncomfortable under her scrutiny, his thick lips were drawn firmly in an effort at sullen determination.
“What for?” she asked.