Lady of the Decoration | Page 3

"No, no," he muttered impatiently. "I'm a Norwegian."
Now what that man needed was a cocktail, but it was not for me to
suggest it.
At table I am in a corner with three nice old gentlemen and one young
German. They are great on story-telling, and I've told all of mine, most
of yours and some I invented. One of the old gentlemen is a missionary;
when he found that I was distantly connected with the fold he
immediately called me "Dear Sister". If I were at home I should call
him "Dear Pa", but I am on my good behavior.
The eating is fairly good, only sometimes it is so hot with curry and
spice that it nearly takes my breath. My little Chinese waiter is entirely
too solicitous for my comfort. No amount of argument will induce him
to leave my plate until I have finished, after a few mouthfuls he whisks
it away and brings me another relay. After pressing upon me dishes of
every kind, he insists on my filling up all crevices with nuts and raisins,
and after I have eaten, and eaten, he looks hurt, and says regretfully:
"Missy sickee, no eatee."
There is one other person, who is just as solicitous. The little German
watches my every mouthful with round solemn eyes, and insists upon
serving everything to me. He looks bewildered when anyone tells a
funny story, and sometimes asks for an explanation. He has been
around the world twice, and is now going to China for three years for

the Society of Scientific Research. He seems to think I am the greatest
curio he has yet encountered in his travels.
The chief excitement of our trip so far has been the day in Honolulu. I
wanted to sing for joy when we sighted land. The trees and grass never
looked so beautiful as they did that morning in the brilliant sunshine. It
took us hours to land on account of the red tape that had to be unwound,
and then there was an extra delay of which I was the innocent cause.
The quarantine doctor was inspecting the ship, and after I had watched
him examine the emigrants, and had gotten my feelings wrought up
over the poor miserable little children swarming below, I found a nice
quiet nook on the shelter deck where I snuggled down and amused
myself watching the native boys swim. The water on their bronze
bodies made them shine in the sunlight, and they played about like a
shoal of young porpoises. I must have stayed there an hour, for when I
came down there was considerable stir on board. A passenger was
missing and we were being held while a search of the ship was made. I
was getting most excited when the purser, who is the sternest and best
looking man you ever saw, came up and pounced upon me. "Have you
been inspected?" he demanded, eyeing me from head to foot. "Not any
more than at present," I answered meekly. "Come with me," he said.
I asked him if he was going to throw me overboard, but he was too full
of importance to smile. He handed me over to the doctor saying: "Here
is the young woman that caused the delay." Young woman, indeed! but
I was to be crushed yet further for the doctor looked over his glasses
and said: "Now how did we miss that?"
But on to Honolulu! I don't wonder people go wild over it. It is as if all
the artists in all the world had spilled their colors over one spot, and
Nature had sorted them out at her own sweet will. I kept wondering if I
had died and gone to Heaven! Marvelous palms, and tropical plants,
and all hanging in a softly dreaming silence that went to my head like
wine.
I started out to see the city, with two old ladies and a girl from South
Dakota, but Dear Pa and Little Germany joined the party. Oh! Mate
how I longed for yon! I wanted to tie all those frousy old freaks up in a
hard knot and pitch them into the sea! The girl from South Dakota is a
little better than the rest, but she wears a jersey!
There are real tailor-made people on board, but I don't dare associate

with them. They play bridge most of the time and if I hesitated near
them I'd be lost. I'll play my part, never fear, but I hereby swear that I
will not dress it!

STILL ON BOARD. August 18th.
Dear Mate:
I am writing this in my berth with the curtains drawn. No I am not a bit
sea-sick, just popular. One of the old ladies is teaching me to knit,