The father spoke a few words to his daughter who came out to greet them, and she turned into the hut. They followed her and found her busy preparing a bed of fresh grass over which she had laid a sheet of tapa. They place Rothwell on his new bed and Violetta deftly treated the wounded member.
“I think better we go now,” said the Hawaiian to Wilbur, “unless you like moi moi in my house.”
“I thank you, but I’ve an engagement for tonight or I would. Good night, Rothwell. After seeing your pretty nurse, I almost wish that it was my leg and not yours that is out of commission.”
The sudden pain which darted through Rothwell’s leg caused him to smile grimly at his friend’s wish, but he bade him good night without another word.
When Wilbur went to see him the next morning Rothwell said, “Wilbur, you’d better quit coming here until I get better.”
“And why?”
“Because people might want to see me and might be tempted to stroll toward yonder plain. I never credited myself with possessing the only enterprising brain in the world, and some of our Honolulu friends might think of the scheme themselves if they saw those teeth lying around. So you had better visit somebody in town for a while.”
“Just as you say. But how are these Hawaiians treating you?”
“As if I were Kamehameha himself.”
“Grub good?”