It had the desired effect, however. Ngaropi looked dubious for a minute then strolled off down the path. “And shut the gate, too, please”, I called. “Goodbye”. No reply, but the gate was carefully shut. Next morning Ngaropi popped in again, grinning and chatting as if nothing had happened. We discussed the merits of our mantle lamp and benzine iron; and the bicycle was borrowed for another jaunt to Taheke. More bread and peanut butter was devoured and Ngaropi went cheerfully home when first asked. But this time, she forgot to shut the gate.