Explore "Solepa" by Louis Becke on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The last strokes of the bell for evening service had scarce died away when I heard a footstep on the pebbly path, and old Pakia, staff in hand and pipe dangling from his pendulous ear-lobe, walked quietly up the steps and sat down cross-legged on the verandah. All my own people had gone to church and the house was very quiet.
"Good evening, Pakia," I said in English, "how are you, old man?"