The result on his clerical garments, however, was disastrous.

His white tie went awry, squashed fruit and roast pig gravy ran down his waistcoat and trousers, and his high collar melted into limp crinkles in the moisture engendered by the tropical heat.

Only his long coat escaped, since that Bickley kindly carried for him.
It was just as he arrived with the seventh load in this extremely dishevelled condition that Oro and his daughter emerged from the cave.
Indeed Bastin, who, being shortsighted, always wore spectacles that, owing to his heated state were covered with mist, not seeing that dignitary, dumped down the last basket on to his toes, exclaiming: "There, you lazy beggar, I told you I would bring it all, and I have." In fact he thought he was addressing Bickley and playing off on him a troglodytic practical joke.
Oro, however, who at his age did not appreciate jokes, resented it and was about to do something unpleasant when with extraordinary tact his daughter remarked: "Bastin the priest makes you offerings.

Thank him, O Lord my father." So Oro thanked him, not too cordially for evidently he still had feeling in his toes, and once more Bastin escaped.

Becoming aware of his error, he began to apologise profusely in English, while the lady Yva studied him carefully.
"Is that the costume of the priests of your religion, O Bastin ?" she asked, surveying his dishevelled form.