and Schlyter. Landers was the "lime" because a former partner
of his establishment exported limes, and Landers succeeded to his
nickname. Landers and Schlyter were good customers, so they got larger
slices of dried-apple pie.

Chappe-Hall, being bidden farewell on his leaving for Auckland, was
apostrophizing Tahiti in verse, all the stanzas ending in "And the
glory of her eyes over all." There were bumpers and more, and "Bottoms
up," until a slat-like American woman bounced off the veranda with her
sixth course uneaten to complain to Lovaina that her hotel was no place
for a Christian or a lady. Lovaina almost wept with astonishment and
grief, but kept the champagne moving toward the Chappe-Hall table as
fast as it could be cooled, meanwhile assuring the scandalized guest
that nothing undecorous ever happened in the Tiare Hotel, but that
it were better it did than that young men should go to evil resorts
for their outbursts.

"My place respectable," Lovaina said dignifiedly. "I don' 'low no
monkey bizeness. Drinkin' wine custom of Tahiti. Make little fun,
no harm. If they go that Cocoanut House, get in bad."

Lovaina told me all about it. She was quite hurt at the aspersions
upon her home, and entered the dining-room in a breathing spell to
sit at my table, a rather unusual honor I deeply felt. I pledged my
love for her in Pol Roger, but she would have nothing but water.

"I no drink these times," she explained. "Maybe some day I do
again. Make fat people too much bigger. That flat woman from 'Nited
States, ain't she funny? I think missionary."