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ALICE LAUDER.
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phires and pearls, carved sandal-wood, ivory boxes, or queer fascinating cat’s-eye jewellery.

“It’s not my idea of Paradise,” said Campbell, who was also reposing enjoyably on the grass near his young guide, philosopher, and friend in music.

They had the breadfruit-tree all to themselves, and it really was very pleasant. Even the watchful eyes of Mrs. Wigs were closed in slumber on the shadiest veranda of the big hotel. Lady May had been spirited away to some remote viceregal regions immediately on her arrival, and Arthur found himself, he scarcely knew how or why, taking care of this very Bohemian young lady under the shade of the murmuring tropical trees. There was no Mrs. Grundy awake within half a mile. Still it must be remembered that Mrs. Grundy hears in her dreams and sees with her eyes shut, and that it is never safe to conclude that when the cat’s away the mice may play—not even under a breadfruit-tree in a surf-circled island of the Indian Ocean.

“What is your idea, then, if one may ask? Not that I believe you have anything better than this!” and Alice bent down a starry passion-flower from the nearest bough, and drew its crimson petals over her lips.

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