flowers in the garden they are. Daddy and I are their support for a little while. Like the stakes against the gladioli, we help them to grow straight. If they've learned right at home, they'll grow right when they leave no matter how often the winds of temptation try to make them bend.” “If they've got the backbone, they'll make it all right—just like their Mum's plants,” her father wound up. This discourse seemed to please Arihia no end so she decided to give the Maori her own special pat on the back. “I reckon we Maoris got what it takes,” she announced with a self-satisfied air, “Even if the pakeha are always slinging off at us. They've only got to look at their history books to see what our tipuna have done.” “And then they've only got to look at their papers to see what we've done,’ spoke Koro, the oldest of the group. Koro in his day had had the privilege of going to college, and this fact alone made him a respected leader in the village. “Anything a Maori does good or bad, becomes a reflection upon the whole Maori race,” he continued. “The time is past when we keep peeping out from behind our tipunas' piupiu and saying, ‘Look what our ancestors did. Look what a proud race we are’ without trying to contribute something worthwhile ourselves to the heritage left us by our tipuna. Basking in their reflected glory is no good. No good at all. It's like trying to win a boat race when our waka is high and dry. If we want to ride on the crest of all that our ancestors have achieved, we must see that our own canoes are fit for the sailing and that we're headed in the right direction,” Koro continued. “We all know how our tipuna crossed the uncharted ocean in open canoes. Today we've got our own oceans to cross. They're uncharted, too, but we've got just as many stars to guide us as our forefathers had in their day and our Kupes have already blazed the way for us, as did the very first Kupe so long ago. Like our fathers before us, it is now time for us to launch our canoes in full faith, as did they, knowing full well that we'll get there.” After a short pause he said, “Education is one of the stars which will help point the way across our ocean.” “Hum-m,” sniffed Arihia. “Education! What's the good of all this education business? Our kids go away to college, learn the pakeha ways; then they come back and they don't like it here any more. It's not good enough for them. If that's what education does for them, they're better off without it.” “I don't see it that way at all,” Koro replied. “I'm an old bloke now, but this is the way I look at it. If my kids don't yearn for something greater and higher and nobler as a result of all I've tried to pound into them, then I've failed them and failed myself. All these years now I have been trying to teach them to pick up their own two feet and walk. Run, if need be. I don't want them to lean on my shoulder and say, “What's good enough for the old man is good enough for me.” Their opportunities are greater than ever today, and if I had my life to live over again in this day and age, I'd go all out for a higher and better education. My kids know I've given them the best that I can afford. I know they appreciate it, but their biggest thanks to me will come only when they have reached the highest peak of their own ability and will come to me and say, “I owe this to you, Dad. You taught me to aim.” That's all the thanks I need. I'm too old now to cross their ocean, but I have the satisfaction of knowing that I helped shape the canoes my sons will paddle in order to reach their ultimate goals, so I'll get there, too—through them. E hoa, don't criticize your kids when they come home from college ‘different’. Just be glad that they are ready now to set sail across their own Moana-nui-a-kiwa. It will be a mighty long sail, too, so send them out with your blessings, because they will still be looking back over their shoulders for your guidance and nod of approval and your ‘Kia kaha!”’. From her place under the table, Hinerangi drank in every word that had fallen from Koro's wise old lips. Her under-the-table companions seemed to have listened with fervour, too, for all legs were still. Now the grown-ups had relaxed. Hinerangi could tell because the many toes under the table began to stretch and wiggle as if they were enjoying their own private conversation through the sign language system. These were Hare's feet, because of the big bunion on the left side. It had always fascinated Hinerangi, for she had seen it many times sticking out through the worn out pair of “toe peeper” shoes Hare sometimes wore. Hinerangi experienced an almost uncontrollable urge to bend down and bite that big, brown, inviting kiritono, but she restrained herself and chuckled deep down inside. And these legs belonged to Katene, they were big, like strainer posts and very hairy. She felt a strong desire to tweek at their long, black hair, but again she just chuckled deep inside. The next pair belonged to his wife Arihia. It was she who had ridiculed education for their children. After today perhaps she would think twice about keeping Kingi home to weed the kumara and plant the corn. Kingi had too many brains that shouldn't be left to go to seed like the kumara in the tapapa pit. These slim ankles were her mother's. They were the prettiest legs of all, under the table or anywhere else. She wanted to reach out and stroke them, but she daren't give away her hiding place like that. Across from her Mother's well-shaped legs were the bony ones of Koro. How skinny they looked, with hardly any meat on them at all. They'd have made a sorry meal in the olden days for some hungry warrior, she decided. She pretended to measure the girth with her hands, and then compared their size to her father's big, kauri-like