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Each wanted to tell her own experience, and they all talked at once. Fil had a new way of doing her hair, and gave the others no peace till they had duly realized and appreciated it.
"Your mango then is a whole breakfast, toast, drink, and fruit," I said. When we all met next morning, again under the bamboo grove, the good Padre said: "If you were lost in your woods at home, you would soon wander and die; but if you were lost here, you could live for years." "Then let us go into such a forest of Eden," I replied, and held out my hands to Fil and Filippa.
"No more have I and I've never met anyone who exactly has. It's generally their cousin's cousin who's told them about it." "There's a moon to-night," remarked Nora. "So there is!" The four girls looked at one another, hair brushes in hand. Each had it on the tip of her tongue to make a suggestion. "I dare you to go!" said Verity at last. "Not alone?" Fil was clutching already at Nora's hand.
Mr J.J. Fahie published in England as early as 1899 an interesting work entitled the History of Wireless Telegraphy; and about the same time M. Broca published in France a very exhaustive work named La Telegraphie sans fil.
An idea had struck him which made him choke with mirth. "That's it, that's it, Saint Anthony and his pig. There's my pig!" And the three servants burst out laughing in their turn. The old fellow was so pleased that he had the brandy brought in, good stuff, 'fil en dix', and treated every one.
"Why do you call these strong animals water buffaloes?" I asked Fil. "Because, to escape the flies and the heat, the animal refuses to work during the heat of the day, and rushes off into a stream, or into the sea, to cover himself with mud and sand and water and weeds.
After a late dinner, Fil and Filippa as usual kissed the hands of their parents, bowed to them, and retired. I thought how dutiful a custom this was, and I recalled how, in my own country, too many rude, selfish children, full of conceit, have little respect for their parents, and really attempt to order their elders around. The Filipino boy seems to know his place, as a boy.
There, like a string of pearls hanging from the golden Equator, I found thousands of wonderful islands of all sizes, but only two of them are very large. I found also my new and kind young friends: Fil; his sister Filippa; Fil's boy playmate named Moro, who came from the large southern island; their parents and friends; and the good Padre.
Perhaps her brows were a little bit flatter, and her nose was a little bit shorter and wider, than ours; but still she was pretty, especially when she smiled, for she had beautiful white teeth. Then I turned to Fil's playmate, Moro, and asked him what his rolling name could mean. Moro was even more eager and darker than Fil.
"Around this corner," said Fil, who was proud to lead the way. Surely enough, Filipino workmen were tying lengths of bamboo poles together, with tough rattan vine, for the frame of a chair. The back was made of laced rattan and grasses.
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