"Fairly," I answered.
"There is a text which says: The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth are set on edge. I guess it runs differently in Honolulu. The fathers brought Christianity to the Kanaka and the children jumped his land."
"Heaven helps those who help themselves," I murmured.
"It surely does. By the time the natives of this island had embraced Christianity they had nothing else they could afford to embrace. The kings gave the missionaries land as a mark of esteem, and the missionaries bought land by way of laying up treasure in heaven. It surely was a good investment. One missionary left the business—I think one may call it a business without offence—and became a land agent, but that is an exception. Mostly it was their sons who looked after the commercial side of the concern. Oh, it's a fine thing to have a father who came here fifty years ago to spread the faith."
But he looked at his watch.
"Gee, it's stopped. That means it's time to have a cocktail."
We sped along an excellent road, bordered with red hibiscus, and came back into the town.
"Have you been to the Union Saloon?"
"Not yet."
"We'll go there."