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The two couples bade one another good night. Dr. and Mrs. Macphail were left alone. For two or three minutes they did not speak.

“I think I’ll go and fetch the cards,” the doctor said at last.

Mrs. Macphail looked at him doubtfully. Her conversation with the Davidsons had left her a little uneasy, but she did not like to say that she thought they had better not play cards when the Davidsons might come in at any moment. Dr. Macphail brought them and she watched him, though with a vague sense of guilt, while he laid out his patience. Below the sound of revelry continued.

It was fine enough next day, and the Macphails, condemned to spend a fortnight of idleness at Pago-Pago, set about making the best of things. They went down to the quay and got out of their boxes a number of books. The doctor called on the chief surgeon of the naval hospital and went round the beds with him. They left cards on the governor. They passed Miss Thompson on the road. The doctor took off his hat, and she gave him a “Good morning, doc. ,” in a loud, cheerful voice. She was dressed as on the day before, in a white frock, and her shiny white boots with their high heels, her fat legs bulging over the tops of them, were strange things on that exotic scene.

“I don’t think she’s very suitably dressed, I must say,” said Mrs. Macphail.”She looks extremely common to me.”

When they got back to their house, she was on the verandah playing with one of the trader’s dark children.

“Say a word to her,” Dr. Macphail whispered to his wife.”She’s all alone here, and it seems rather unkind to ignore her.”

Mrs. Macphail was shy, but she was in the habit of doing what her husband bade her.

“I think we’re fellow lodgers here,” she said rather foolishly.

“Terrible, ain’t it, bein’ cooped up in a one-horse burg like this?” answered Miss Thompson.”And they tell me I’m lucky to have gotten a room. I don’t see myself livin’ in a native house, and that’s what some have to do. I don’t know why they don’t have a hotel.”

They exchanged a few more words. Miss Thompson, loud-voiced and garrulous, was evidently quite willing to gossip, but Mrs. Macphail had a poor stock of small talk and presently she said:

“Well, I think we must go upstairs.”

In the evening when they sat down to their high tea Davidson on coming in said:

“I see that woman downstairs has a couple of sailors sitting there. I wonder how she’s gotten acquainted with them.”

“She can’t be very particular,” said Mrs. Davidson.

They were all rather tired after the idle, aimless day.

“If there’s going to be a fortnight of this I don’t know what we shall feel like at the end of it,” said Dr. Macphail.

“The only thing to do is to portion out the day to different activities,” answered the missionary.”I shall set aside a certain number of hours to study and a certain number to exercise, rain or fine – in the wet season you can’t afford to pay any attention to the rain – and a certain number to recreation.”

Dr. Macphail looked at his companion with misgiving. Davidson’s programme oppressed him. They were eating Hamburger steak again. It seemed the only dish
the cook knew how to make. Then below the grama-phone began. Davidson started nervously when he heard it, but said nothing. Men’s voices floated up. Miss Thompson’s guests were joining in a well-known song and presently they heard her voice too, hoarse and loud. There was a good deal of shouting and laughing. The four people upstairs, trying to make conversation, listened despite themselves to the clink of glasses and the scrape of chairs. More people had evidently come. Miss Thompson was giving a party.