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Updated: May 10, 2025
It was Belle, who had come to the front door to say that dinner was ready. Whenever Mrs. Triplett was at home, Belle made extra efforts to talk and appear interested in what was going on around her. She was afraid her keen-eyed Aunt Maria would see that she was unhappy.
Kippiputuona, my own true mate, there is something ironically tragic in the thought that the simple blue flower which you plucked so carelessly from the cliff edge and thrust into your hair would some day but again, I anticipate. We had reached the yawl, which we made a sort of half-way house and were chatting with Captain Triplett.
Triplett took occasion to give the gentleman's pedigree, by what methods some part of the estate was acquired, how much it was beholden to a marriage for the present circumstances of it: after all, he could see nothing but a common man in his person, his breeding or under-Standing. Thus, Mr.
Tupman to take them home herself," said Mrs. Triplett, "but she left earlier than I thought she would, and I had no chance to say anything about them. We oughtn't to trust anything as valuable as gold beads that are an heirloom to any outsider, no matter how honest. They might be lost. Suppose you just wear them home to her. Do you feel like doing that?
Still further depressed we made our way back to the Kawa, our hearts aching as with the hurt of burns, a dull, throbbing torture. "Drink?" said Captain Triplett in his most treacly manner. He held out a cup of lava-lava, the most deadly beverage of the islands. It is mixed with phosphorus and glows and tastes like hell-fire. I saw his plan and for once was grateful.
"Thing it!" lisped Georgina, wanting undivided attention, and laying an imperious little hand on his cheek to force it. "Thing!" He shook his head reprovingly, with a finger across his lips to remind her that Mrs. Triplett was still talking; but she was not to be silenced in such a way. Leaning over until her mischievous brown eyes compelled him to look at her, she smiled like a dimpled cherub.
In Triplett's great rough paw was a fountain-pen filler of fresh water which he gently dropped on the flowerlet's unturned face. At exactly one-thirty, solar time, the tiny petals fluttered faintly and closed. "She's gone," groaned Triplett, and dashed a tear, the size of a robin's egg, from his furrowed cheek. In that ghastly light we stared at each other. We were lost!
"Katia?" we questioned, but he was mysterious and led us quietly to the trees occupied by the Swanks, the Whinneys and finally Triplett, all of whom he roused as he had us. "Katia?" we repeated. "Hoko," he answered, and to our surprise, again motioned us forward. For twenty minutes we threaded a forest trail in which still lurked the shadows of night.
Captain Ezra Triplett was a hard-bitten mariner. In fact, he was, I think, the hardest-bitten mariner I have ever seen. He had been bitten, according to his own tell, man-and-boy, for fifty-two years, by every sort of insect, rodent and crustacean in existence. He had had smallpox and three touches of scurvy, each of these blights leaving its autograph.
Traprock, if you please, would you mind facin' a-stern." I motioned to Kippy to obey, which she would have done anyway. "An' now," said the Captain, "kindly face forrard." Same business. The flower slowly turned on Kippy's head! Stretching forth a trembling hand, Triplett plucked the blossom from Kippy's hair!
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