Parrots were chattering in
the acacia and in the Otaheite plum tree, with its bright pink blossoms
like tassels, and flanking the negro huts by the river were bowers of
grenadilla fruit. Around the negro huts were small individual
plantations kept by the slaves, for which they had one day a fortnight,
besides Sundays, free to work on their own account. Here and there also
were patches of "ground-fruit," as the underground vegetables were
called, while there passed by on their way to the open road leading to
Kingston wains loaded with sugar-casks, drawn by oxen, and in two cases
by sumpter mules.
"Is there anything finer than that in Virginia?" asked the governor.
"I have never been in Virginia, but I take this to be in some ways like
that state. Is it?"
"In some ways only. We have not the same profusion of wild fruits and
trees, but we have our share--and it is not so hot as here. It is a
better country, though."
"In what way is it better?" the governor asked almost acidly.
"It is better governed."
"What do you mean by that? Isn't Jamaica well governed?"
"Not so well that it couldn't be improved," was Sheila's reply.
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