He stepped out into the rain. It swept in from the opening of the harbour in sheets and the opposite shore was all blurred. He passed two or three natives clad in nothing but the lava-lava, with huge umbrellas over them. They walked finely, with leisurely movements, very upright; and they smiled and greeted him in a strange tongue as they went by.
It was nearly dinner-time when he got back, and their meal was laid in the trader's parlour. It was a room designed not to live in but for purposes of prestige, and it had a musty, melancholy air. A suite of stamped plush was arranged neatly round the walls, and from the middle of the ceiling, protected from the flies by yellow tissue paper, hung a gilt chandelier. Davidson did not come.
"I know he went to call on the governor," said Mrs Davidson, "and I guess he's kept him to dinner."
A little native girl brought them a dish of Hamburger steak, and after a while the trader came up to see that they had everything they wanted.
"I see we have a fellow lodger, Mr Horn," said Dr Macphail.
"She's taken a room, that's all," answered the trader. "She's getting her own board."
He looked at the two ladies with an obsequious air.
"I put her downstairs so she shouldn't be in the way. She won't be any trouble to you."
"Is it someone who was on the boat?" asked Mrs Macphail.
"Yes, ma'am, she was in the second cabin. She was going to Apia. She has a position as cashier waiting for her."