“Your eyes are different colours, one brown and one a beautiful blue!” she suddenly exclaimed for the second time as she burst into a merry peal of laughter.
The young apprentice reddened slightly. “I can’t help that I did not make my own eyes, did I?” he said.
For a moment the girl stared earnestly at his face, then said: “Well, you needn’t mind, really. I reckon they look fine!”
“Don’t you get full up of wandering about this heathen locality?” said Hillary, changing the conversation. “Nothing but palm-trees, parrots, and brown men and tattooed women roaming about gabbling tabak and worshipping idols.”
Gabrielle laughed. “Don’t you care for the natives? I think they’re amusing; especially at the festival dances,” she added after a pause.
“Well, I don’t object to the festivals; they’re original and decidedly attractive. I was charmed by seeing a Polynesian maid dance like a goddess over a Buka village two nights ago.”
“Fancy you liking to see native girls dance!” said Gabrielle, giving a roguish glance.
“Well, I do; there’s something so fascinating and poetic in the way they do it all,” Hillary responded.
Gabrielle readjusted the flowers in her hair, then said: “Would you like to see me dance?”
“Dear me, I certainly should!” exclaimed the young apprentice, his eyes betraying the astonishment he felt over her question.