CHAPTER XVIII.
A STORM IN THE VALLEY.
In less than half an hour after entering the house we had exchanged our wet coats for dry ones and were seated at a breakfast table loaded with all of the good things which the plantation of Mr. Henry Soule afforded.
A native servant waited on us, and while we ate we conversed with the girl who had first greeted us. We soon learned that her name was Cora and that she was Mr. Soule's only child, and that her mother had been dead for several years.
"Papa says I am the mistress of the house," she said, with a musical laugh. "And we run matters to suit ourselves—he and I."
"You are Americans, of course," I ventured.
"I am, but papa was born in Germany. We came here ten years ago, from Indiana."
"And do you stay on the plantation all the time?" put in Dan. "I should think that would be lonely."
"No, I attend a female college in Honolulu and board there during the college term," replied Cora Soule. "But I don't find it so dull here as you may imagine. I have my pony and my dog
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