"I am not afraid," said Eleanor with a most unruffled smile.
"I wrote to frighten you."
"But I was not frightened. Are things no better in the islands than when you wrote?"
"Changing—changing every day; from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God. Literally. There are heathen temples here, in which a few years ago if a woman or a child had dared cross the threshold they would have been done to death immediately. Now those very temples are used as our schools. On our way to the chapel we shall pass almost over a place where there used to be one of the ovens for cooking human bodies; now the grass and wild tomatoes are growing over it. I can take you to house after house, where men and women used to be eaten, where now if you stand to listen you may hear hymns of praise to Jesus and prayer going up in his name. Praise the Lord! It is grand to be permitted to live in Fiji now!"—
Eleanor was hushed and silent a few minutes, while Mr. Rhys walked slowly up and down. Then she spoke with her eyes full of sympathetic tears.
"Mr. Rhys, what can I do?"
"What you have to do at present," he said with a change of tone, "is to take care of me and learn the language,—both languages, I should say! And in the mean while you had better take care of your pins,"—he stooped as he spoke, to pick up one at her feet and presented it with comical gravity. "You must remember you are not in England. Here you could not spend pin-money even if you had it."
"If I were inclined to be extravagant," said Eleanor laughing at him, "your admonition would be thrown away; I have brought such quantities with me."
"Of pins?"
"Yes."