Many charming young self-supporting woman in Honolulu trace their ancestry back to Kamehameha with great pride. The chant is a weird sing-song which relates the conquests of the race. It is the custom in Honolulu to present guests at feasts and festivals, or departing visitors, with long wreaths of natural flowers, and which are worn by men, as well as women, about the head, hat, and neck. These wreaths, called lais (pronounced lays), sometimes reach below the waist. The flower-sellers are one of the national features of Honolulu. _Scene made to represent grounds at Hawaiian hotel_. _Sort of open café or pavilion with palms_, _vines_, _and tropic flowers_. RALPH _sitting alone with a dreamy air_. _Enter_ ETHEL—_in short travelling suit_—_typical American girl_—_blonde and petite_. ETHEL Oh, here you are. Your sister and your mother Commissioned me detective, sleuth, and spy, To find the disappearing son and brother; And tell him that the time is slipping by. Our boat will sail in just two hours, you know. Dear Honolulu, how I hate to go. RALPH Don’t mention it; I shun the very thought. ETHEL You see this is the sort of thing one hears And don’t believe, until one sees the spot. We left New York in snow up to its ears; And now a Paradise! the palm, the rose, The Boaganvillia, and the breath of summer. RALPH I tell you, Honolulu is a hummer. It pays for six long days upon the ocean— And those sad memories of a ship’s queer motion ETHEL There’s one thing, though, that’s disappointed me,— The much exploited Honolulu maid. I haven’t seen a beauty in the town. RALPH They’re thick as ripe bananas on a tree. You have not been observing, I’m afraid. ETHEL (_shrugging her shoulders_) Oh well, tastes differ; I don’t care for brown, At least for this pronounced Hawaiian shade; I really can’t imagine how a man Could love a girl dyed to a chronic tan. RALPH Some one has said, ‘Love goes where it is sent.’ ETHEL (_sadly_) I think that true; one can not guide its bent. But I must go; and will you come along? Your mother said to bring you. RALPH Not quite yet; I’ll wait until that bird completes its song; The last I’ll hear, till many a sun has set. Just tell the folks I’ll meet them on the pier. [_Exit_ ETHEL, _looking disappointed_. RALPH (_sitting down in a reverie_)