FullReads

On the shelf where Graves kept his books, with its legs hanging over, was what I took to be an idol of some light brownish wood–say sandalwood, with a touch of pink. But it was the most lifelike and astounding piece of carving I ever saw in the islands or out of them. It was about a foot high, and represented a Polynesian woman in the prime of life, say, fifteen or sixteen years old, only the features were finer and cleaner carved. It was a nude, in an attitude of easy repose–the legs hanging, the toes dangling–the hands resting, palms downward, on the blotter, the trunk relaxed. The eyes, which were a kind of steely blue, seemed to have been made, depth upon depth, of some wonderful translucent enamel, and to make his work still more realistic the artist had planted the statuette’s eyebrows, eyelashes, and scalp with real hair, very soft and silky, brown on the head and black for the lashes and eyebrows. The thing was so lifelike that it frightened me. And when Don began to growl like distant thunder I didn’t blame him. But I leaned over and caught him by the collar, because it was evident that he wanted to get at that statuette and destroy it.

When I looked up the statuette’s eyes had moved. They were turned downward upon the dog, with cool curiosity and indifference. A kind of shudder went through me. And then, lo and behold, the statuette’s tiny brown breasts rose and fell slowly, and a long breath came out of its nostrils.

I backed violently into Graves, dragging Don with me and half-choking him. “My God Almighty!” I said. “It’s alive!”

“Isn’t she!” said he. “I caught her back there in the grass–the little minx. And when I heard your signal I put her up there to keep her out of mischief. It’s too high for her to jump–and she’s very sore about it.”

“You found her in the grass,” I said. “For God’s sake!–are there more of them?”

“Thick as quail,” said he, “but it’s hard to get a sight of ’em. But you were overcome by curiosity, weren’t you, old girl? You came out to have a look at the big white giant and he caught you with his thumb and forefinger by the scruff of the neck–so you couldn’t bite him–and here you are.”

The womankin’s lips parted and I saw a flash of white teeth. She looked up into Graves’s face and the steely eyes softened. It was evident that she was very fond of him.

“Rum sort of a pet,” said Graves. “What?”

“Rum?” I said. “It’s horrible–it isn’t decent–it–it ought to be taboo. Don’s got it sized up right. He–he wants to kill it.”

“Please don’t keep calling her It,” said Graves. “She wouldn’t like it–if she understood.” Then he whispered words that were Greek to me, and the womankin laughed aloud. Her laugh was sweet and tinkly, like the upper notes of a spinet.

“You can speak her language?”

“A few words–Tog ma Lao?”

“Na!”

“Aba Ton sug ato.”

“Nan Tane dom ud lon anea!”

It sounded like that–only all whispered and very soft. It sounded a little like the wind in the grass.

“She says she isn’t afraid of the dog,” said Graves, “and that he’d better let her alone.”

“I almost hope he won’t,” said I. “Come outside. I don’t like her. I think I’ve got a touch of the horrors.”

Graves remained behind a moment to lift the womankin down from the shelf, and when he rejoined me I had made up my mind to talk to him like a father.

“Graves,” I said, “although that creature in there is only a foot high, it isn’t a pig or a monkey, it’s a woman, and you’re guilty of what’s considered a pretty ugly crime at home–abduction. You’ve stolen this woman away from kith and kin, and the least you can do is to carry her back where you found her and turn her loose. Let me ask you one thing–what would Miss Chester think?”