The next day he taught her the verbal synonym of many things, and she spoke the words after him with rapt attention.  When he finished the lesson, she pounded, in a wondrous mortar, the dried flour of the banana with the eggs of wild fowl, then fried the paste over the fire he had built.  She brought a dish of nuts and showed him gravely how to crack them with a stone, smiling patronizingly at his ready skill.  When the dinner was cooked, she offered him one end of the dish as usual, but he thought it was time for another lesson.  He laid a flat stone with palm leaves, and set two smaller dishes at opposite ends.  Then with a flat stick he lifted the cakes from the fry-pan, and placed an equal number on each plate.  Dorthe watched these proceedings with expanded eyes, but many gestures of impatience.  She was hungry.  He took her hand and led her ceremoniously to the head of the table, motioning to her to be seated.  She promptly went down on her knees, and dived at the cakes with both hands.  But again he restrained her.  He had employed a part of his large leisure fashioning rude wood forks with his ragged pocket-knife.  There were plenty of bone knives on the island.  He sat himself opposite, and gave her a practical illustration of the use of the knife and fork.  She watched attentively, surreptitiously whisking morsels of cake into her mouth.  Finally, she seized the implements of civilization beside her plate, and made an awkward attempt to use them.  The priest tactfully devoted himself to his own dinner.  Suddenly he heard a cry of rage, and simultaneously the knife and fork flew in different directions.  Dorthe seized a cake in each hand, and stuffed them into her mouth, her eyes flashing defiance.  The priest looked at her reproachfully, then lowered his eyes.  Presently she got up, found the knife and fork, and made a patient effort to guide the food to its proper place by the new and trying method This time the attempt resulted in tears—­a wild thunder shower.  The priest went over, knelt beside her, and guided the knife through the cake, the fork to her mouth.  Dorthe finished the meal, then put her head on his shoulder and wept bitterly.  The priest soothed her, and made her understand that she had acquitted herself with credit; and the sun shone once more.

An hour later she took his hand, and led him to the creek in the forest.

“C—­c—­ruck!  C—­c—­ruck!” she cried.

“C—­c—­ruck!  C—­c—­ruck!” came promptly from the rushes.  She looked at him triumphantly.

“Curruck,” he said, acknowledging the introduction.

She laughed outright at his poor attempt, startling even him with the discordant sound.  She sprang to his side, her eyes rolling with terror.  But he laughed himself, and in a few moments she was attempting to imitate him.  Awhile later she introduced him to the birds; but he forbore to trill, having a saving sense of humour.