with three homeless ones after one has brought them to the piecart. But he could think of nothing and before we could say anything except thank you he had gone. —You have to wait until after six, we were told by the lady behind the piecart counter, because the cook is still in the hotel (meaning the pub). —Do you know that boy? —Oh yes, I know him well; he is always in here. He comes to keep out of the cold. I give him a cup of tea sometimes and a hot dog. He gave me the most horrible shock one day; I still shudder when I think of it. I asked him, Has your mother got no fire going for you at home? and he looked at me, not sadly, but just a little puzzled and said I have no mother. He has now gone back to the pub door to wait for his father. His father cannot have been very interested in him for after six, when we were at our steaming plate of steak and eggs, the boy came back alone, and sat down on a chair against the wall, away from the trestles where we ate, just by himself, looking at all the men having their meal. He liked being with people, and he particularly liked sitting with his bare feet right next to the radiator. He was chewing a hot dog. So that was the first thing we saw in Mangakino, the beer and the loneliness. As we clin into the car the boy eyed us with something that was almost love. Wori Ward reaches a song with a baton used for stick games. (Photo: J. Fun) That evening, as we were being entertained by the Tuhoe Social and Welfare Club, I could not forget the child. I met the leaders of the club, Wari Ward, Mac Moses and Bill Waiwai, all of them men who have given up almost their entire lives, to social work, organising clubs helping people who are in difficulties, teaching music and Maori culture, to bring light and life into the community around them. Such people exist in most communities, although these men had more original minds than many, and when they come to a place like Mangakino, the atmosphere of beer and loneliness pains them particularly and they cannot help themselves, they must do something about it. Why does this misery of the others worry them so much? Why do they not happily stay with their families or amuse themselves in a small enlightened clique? That is a deep question which it is baffling to answer. Something was written about the Tuhoe club in issue 13 of Te Ao Hou. That story was