[Footnote 62: The _malae_ is the green lawn around which all Samoan villages are built.]
"The guest house had been decorated with leaves, ferns, and flowers. As we ducked under the eaves, our eyes a little dazzled by the brightness of the sunlight, we were received by the _taupo_ and her maidens, who were spreading fine mats for us to sit on. Oh the sweet, cool, clean freshness of a native house! It would not be fair to call it a hut, for that suggests squalor, or makeshift, whereas these houses are works of art. The roof rises inside like a great dome, the inner thatch being intricately woven in patterns, while the floor is made of clean pebbles, neatly laid and covered with fine mats. In the centre of the house the main pole stands like a tall mast, with several cross-bars where the furniture--rolls of mats and _tapa_, _kava_ bowls and cups--is kept. There is nothing else in the room, except, perhaps, one or two camphor-wood chests. The centre pole in the house at Vaiee was wound round and about with ropes of frangipani flowers, while bright red hibiscus bells decorated the cross bars, and ferns in long wreaths were looped round the edge of the room. The eaves come down pretty low, about four feet from the ground, so that one has to stoop to enter.
"After receiving us with great cordiality, making us comfortable with fans, etc., the girls joined us as we sat stiffly in a semi-circle, waiting for the chief--for we knew our Samoan manners. Presently we saw him coming, dressed very plainly in a kilt of _tapa_ and carrying the high chief fly flapper.[63] He was accompanied by his talking man, with his tall staff of office, and several of the lesser house chiefs--all looking very important and impressive. After shaking hands with us (which is not a Samoan custom and always spoils the dignity of a fine entrance), they sat in a semi-circle facing us. Then the talking man drew a long breath and started in. Samoan talking men, or _tulafale_, are noted for their eloquence, but it is the wearisome part of a _malaga_ to have to listen to hours of high-flown discourse. At last, however, with a final burst of oratory, our relief came, and then the _taupo_ made and served the _kava_. In later years the Samoans learned to grate the root for brewing, but on that occasion it was prepared in the good old-fashioned island way. The _taupo_ and her girls first washed their mouths out several times with fresh water and then chewed the roots--nibbled them, rather, very daintily--until there was enough for a brew. This was put in the middle of a huge wooden bowl (shallow and with eight short legs, all carved out of one piece of wood), and water was poured over it. The _taupo_,[64] very self-conscious, sitting cross-legged before the bowl, dressed to the nines in flowers and ferns, with a piece of red hibiscus flower stuck on one cheek like a beauty patch, her short hair oiled and sprinkled with grated sandalwood, was as pretty as a picture. The cup was presented first to the chief,[65] who made a little speech of welcome--'May your visit be a happy one'--then drank off the contents and spun the cup along the floor. It was now presented to my mother, who took a sip only, and afterwards to me. I poured a libation and said in Samoan 'Blessed be our high chief meeting.' Then came our English friends and Laulii,[66] who came with us to officiate as 'talking man' for our party. She made a charming little speech that made everybody laugh, and then, the ceremonies being over, we all gathered together for a real talk. We brought news from Apia--we asked news of Vaiee. When I got into deep water with my Samoan, Laulii would help me out, and we would both translate what was said to my mother and the others. The _manaia_ and his young men, who had taken a back seat while their elders received us, came over to join in the talk and tell us of the preparations for our visit.