And Hamil, chancing to turn, saw her, tennis-bat tucked under one bare arm, emerging from the jungle path; and at the same instant she caught sight of him.  Both little chalked shoes stood stockstill—­for a second only—­then she came forward, leisurely, continuing to eat the ripe guava with which she had been occupied.

Cardross, advancing, said:  “This is Mr. Hamil, dearest; and,” to the young man:  “My daughter Shiela.”

She nodded politely.

“Now I’ve got to go, Shiela,” continued Cardross.  “Hamil, you’ll amuse yourself, won’t you, until I return after luncheon?  Shiela, Mr. Hamil doesn’t care to play tennis; so if you’ll find out what he does care to do—­” He saluted the young people gaily and started across the lawn where a very black boy with a chair stood ready to convey him to the village and across the railroad tracks to that demure little flower-embowered cottage the interior of which presents such an amazing contrast to the exterior.

CHAPTER VI

ARMISTICE

The young girl beside him had finished her guava, and now, idly swinging her tennis-bat, stood watching the games in the sunken courts below.

“Please don’t consider me a burden,” he said.  “I would be very glad to sit here and watch you play.”

“I have been playing, thank you.”

“But you won’t let me interfere with anything that—­”

“No, Mr. Hamil, I won’t let you interfere—­with anything.”

She stood swinging her bat, apparently preoccupied with her own thoughts—­like a very grave goddess, he thought, glancing at her askance—­a very young goddess, immersed in celestial reverie far beyond mortal comprehension.

“Do you like guavas?” she inquired.  And, closing her own question:  “But you had better not until you are acclimated.  Do you feel very sleepy, Mr. Hamil?”

“No, I don’t,” he said.

“Oh!  You ought to conform to tradition.  There’s a particularly alluring hammock on the veranda.”

“To get rid of me is it necessary to make me take a nap?” he protested.

“So you refuse to go to sleep?”

“I certainly do.”

She sighed and tucked the tennis-bat under her left arm.  “Come,” she said, moving forward, “my father will ask me what I have done to amuse you, and I had better hunt up something to tell him about.  You’ll want to see the groves of course—­”

“Yes, but I’m not going to drag you about with me—­”

“Come,” she repeated; and as he stood his ground obstinately:  “Please?”—­with a rising inflection hinting at command.

“Why on earth don’t you play tennis and let me sit and watch you?” he asked, joining and keeping step with her.

“Why do you ask a woman for reasons, Mr. Hamil?”

“It’s too bad to spoil your morning—­”