Mali looked up at her with a half-astonished air.  “Oh, I servant in Queensland, of course, missy,” she answered, with great composure.  “Labor vessel come to my island, far away, four, five years ago, steal boy, steal woman.  My papa just kill my mamma, because he angry with her, so no want daughters.  So my papa sell me and my sister for plenty rum, plenty tobacco, to gentlemen in labor vessel.  Gentlemen in labor vessel take Jani and me away, away, to Queensland.  Big sea; long voyage.  We stop there three yam—­three years—­do service; then great chief in Queensland send us back to my island.  My island too faraway; gentleman on ship not find it out; so he land us in little boat on Boupari.  Boupari people make temple slave of us.”  And that was all; to her quite a commonplace, everyday history.

“I see,” Muriel cried.  “Then you’ve been for three years in Australia!  And there you learned English.  Why, what did you do there?”

Mali looked back at her with the same matter-of-fact air of composure as before.  “Oh, me nurse at first,” she said, shortly.  “Then after, me housemaid, live three year in gentleman’s house, good gentleman that buy me.  Take care of little girl; clean rooms; do everything.  Me know how to make English lady quite comfortable.  Me tell that to chief; that make him say, ‘Mali, you be Queenie’s Shadow.’”

To Muriel in her loneliness even such companionship as that was indeed a consolation.  “Oh, I’m so glad you told him,” she cried.  “If we have to stop here long, before a ship takes us off, it’ll be so nice to have you here all the time with me.  You won’t go away from me ever, will you?  You’ll always stop with me!”

The girl’s surprise showed more profoundly than ever.  “Me can’t go away,” she answered, with emphasis.  “Me your Shadow.  That great Taboo.  Tu-Kila-Kila great god.  If me go away, Tu-Kila-Kila kill me and eat me.”

Muriel started back in horror.  “But, Mali,” she said, looking hard at the girl’s pleasant brown face, “if you were three years in Australia, you’re a Christian, surely!”

The girl nodded her head in passive acquiescence.  “Me Christian in Australia,” she answered.  “Of course me Christian.  All folks make Christian when him go to Queensland.  That what for me call Mali, and my sister Jani.  We have other names on my own island; but when we go to Queensland, gentleman baptize us, call us Mali and Jani.  Me Methodist in Queensland.  Methodist very good.  But Methodist god no live in Boupari.  Not any good be Methodist here any longer.  Tu-Kila-Kila god here.  Him very powerful.”

“What!  Not that dreadful creature that they took us to see this morning!” Muriel exclaimed, in horror.  “Oh, Mali, you can’t mean to say they think he’s a god, that awful man there!”

Mali nodded her assent with profound conviction.  “Yes, yes; him god,” she repeated, confidently.  “Him very powerful.  My sister Jani go too near him temple, against taboo—­because her not belong-a Tu-Kila-Kila temple; and last night, when it great feast, plenty men catch Jani, and tie him up in rope; and Tu-Kila-Kila kill him, and plenty Boupari men help Tu-Kila-Kila eat up Jani.”