“Why, the way we run these Islands.”
Whereupon we entered upon a hot discussion, for I was all in favour of roads and irrigation, and he was all for school-desks and more teachers. I quoted a paragraph I had seen in the Manila papers, where the public were informed that some new and wonderfully fertile valley had been opened up in the Island of Luzon, and that the Government’s first care had been to send ten thousand school-desks to this favoured spot. Whereupon he said:
“Well, what is the matter with that, anyway?”
I begged him to consider what Ceylon would be now if Sir Samuel Baker had opened it up with school-desks instead of roads and reservoirs.
“Oh,” he said, “I never thought of it in that way. But perhaps our idea of raising these races is right. It is an experiment which time will prove.”
And that we argued too, with a running comment of amusement on the baile, in spite of the loud blasts of the band.
Before we left, we had excellent supper in a side-room, where two long tables stood covered with food, and all the ceiling was draped with loops of greenery and paper lanterns. There were plates set out, each with a helping of excellent cold turkey in the middle surrounded by little piles of stuffing and vegetables and things, which we followed by very nice meringues, and accompanied with delicious iced drinks—ice from the Government factory—such a treat! While we were at supper, standing at one of the long tables, a paper lamp flared up and fell in a flaming mass just behind me. C—— and some Spaniards promptly stamped it out. But some of the women were frightened, so the Spaniards sang out:
“Terminado! Terminado!”
And everyone went on eating again.
A little group of natives and Mestizos came into the room immediately afterwards, but they had not seen the lamp fall, and one of the women in a light trailing gown passed over some smouldering fragments. C—— sprang forward and said in Spanish: