Oh, that _is_ sad. Because no skill or tact You might employ could ever hide the fact From all the world, wherever you might be. Now Harvard, Princeton, Stanford men, we see And never know, until they speak the name; But Yale,—it bears its brand. RALPH (_reproachfully_) You’re making game Of me, and of my College, cruel girl. [_Approaches her excitedly_.] Come, drop those flowers, and let us have a whirl. I’ll give you both the Yale Yell and the Boola, If you will dance for me your famous Hula. GIRL (_drawing back haughtily_) _I_ dance the Hula? You mistake, my friend; You heard my chant, but did not comprehend The meaning of it. Hark, while I repeat it. [_Repeats the chant_.] RALPH (_puzzled_) I’m sure there’s nothing in the world can beat it; But—er—the language is a little queer; I did not quite catch all the words, I fear; Besides, I’m so distracted by your face. GIRL (_proudly_) That chant relates the conquests of my race; Though I am poor, and hawk about these lais To earn my bread, yet in the olden days There was no prouder family on earth Than mine. But Polynesian pride of birth Is quite beyond the white man’s scope of brain, And so perchance I speak to you in vain. [_Takes her flowers and starts to go_.] RALPH (_intercepts her_) Great Scott! but you are splendid when you’re mad Now, please, don’t go; I’m really not so bad: I don’t mean half I say. GIRL (_turns blazing eyes upon him_) Oh, all you men Of pallid blood, again, and yet again Have offered insults to our island races. I own we once were savage; and the traces Of those wild days remain; but, sir, go back A little way, on _your_ ancestral track, And see what you will find. A horde of bold And lawless cut-throats, started many an old And purse-proud race; and brutal strength became The bloody groundwork for pretentious fame When Might was Right. If every royal tree Were dug up by the roots, the world would see That common mud first mothered the poor sprout. Your race is higher than my own, no doubt; Then shame upon you, for the poor display Of noble manhood that you make to-day, Thinking each brown-faced girl your lawful prey. [_Turns her back upon him and starts to go_.] RALPH (_pleadingly_) Oh, say now, let a fellow have a show. I never meant to rouse your anger so; I only meant—I—well, you see the change Of climate was so sudden; and the strange And gorgeous scenery, and your glorious eyes Upset my brain. But you have put me wise. I own that I had heard— [_Hesitates_, _and_ GIRL _breaks forth again_.]