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"Ah, é--the letter." The old man scratched his head. "I put it in my hat, perhaps."

While he was gone in search of it, Naia turned to her mother.

"It is from Amanu, I think," she said. "I was about to open it; then I saw written on the envelope: 'To be read only by Mauri.' What secret can this be?"

"No secret, surely," Mauri replied. "Some business matter, perhaps."

She took the letter from her father, opened and glanced through it hastily; then she slowly folded it and placed it in her bosom.

"What is it, Mother?" Naia asked.

"Nothing--a request. It is of no importance. They are always wanting something, those people from Amanu." She rose. "Open the himaa, Father. I have two fine mullet baking there and sweet potatoes from the garden up the valley. You must be hungry, you two."

* * * * *

The house on the point at the entrance to Vaihiva Valley was a substantial frame dwelling with a wide verandah facing the lagoon and a hallway running through to a second verandah at the back. Beyond, and connected with the main building by a covered passageway, was the kitchen, spacious, airy, and spotlessly clean.