"What joy and good-will those days brought!" says Auwae's grandmother. "It was the happiest time of my life."
The old woman takes a great deal of interest in everything her little granddaughter does. She is very proud of Auwae's collection of land-shells. She thinks it must be the finest one any child possesses in the whole island. She, herself, gave Auwae at least half of the different varieties. She had kept them from the time of her own childhood.
Did you ever hear of land-shells? They are found on the low, overhanging branches of trees, and the little creatures who make their homes in them would die if you were to put them into the salt water. They are very tiny, and are of many different tints. Auwae has beautiful blue ones, as well as rosy pink, pale yellow, green, violet, and I don't know how many other colours. In little basket trays, side by side, they look very pretty. Each variety has a tray of its own.
Many days must have been spent in gathering the collection; many different people have helped Auwae in making it,—for often only a single kind of shell can be found in one whole island. People in Hawaii exchange specimens, just as the American boys and girls trade postage-stamps with each other. The white people in the village would like to buy Auwae's collection to send to a museum across the ocean, but she would not think of parting with it.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE DIVER.
When school is over, Upa and Auwae go home through the woods so that they can throw stones in a certain waterfall. They have no fear that snakes will suddenly take them by surprise, for there is not a single one in the whole island. Neither do they hear frogs croaking beside a shady pool, for neither frogs nor toads have ever hopped upon Hawaiian soil.
Wherever they come to an open space beneath the trees, they play ball. Upa made his own ball out of leaves which he packed closely together, and Auwae bound it with sweet-smelling grasses when he had pressed it into shape.