“No, I have much to do yet tonight. The ship leaves in two or three days and I must leave my affairs in something like decency. Boa noite.”
“Boa noite, Gabriel, come over tomorrow and let us make our plans.”
“All right,” and Gabriel continued on his way, while Manuel turned into the cottage. He was met at the door by his daughter, Maria da Cruzs. He had eight daughters and all eight were named Maria—of something or other. Of course they all had middle names and occasionally they were called by their middle names to avoid confusion.
“Who was that you were just speaking to,” she asked him.
“What! Did you fail to recognize the voice? It was that of your own Gabriel.”
Maria da Cruzs blushed violently as she said, “He is not my Gabriel.”
Her father laughed at his daughter’s discomfiture and added teasingly, “He leaves for the Sandwich Islands very soon.”
“For the Sandwich Islands? Why, they are so many, many miles away. Has he enough money to pay his passage?”
“No; an American has arrived offering us free passage to Honolulu, provided we promise to work on the sugar plantations for three years.”
“Oh, father! Let us go.”