his sixteen stone off his feet, then he unbuttoned his coat and put his hat on the foot of the bed. “Well my dear, you do look well,” and gazing round, added, “Engari, 4 But. the place is crowded.” “It is pretty full. Four Maori, ten islanders, and over thirty Pakehas, but we are a happy family.” Her eyes were brighter now, and Tom frankly admired her. Her country-air complexion remained unspoiled by her life in the city. Her skin was a clear light reddish-brown like a sunset at sea, almost. It betrayed her mixed parentage, for she was both Pakeha and Maori. Yet she was different from her three sisters, who were pale, even pallid by comparison. Sturdy of build, and medium in height, Tirita had a well formed bosom. Her hair fell in reddish curls upon her shoulders, and her mouth was full of white strong teeth. A well shaped nose, and lips that were soft and full, completed the picture of the one who was always regarded as the tom-boy of the four girls. Nothing daunted her whatsoever in the bush, and she rode a horse as well as any man. Where they went she went, down steep tracks or over windfalls, it was all the same to Tirita. She delighted in chasing the wild brumbies which roamed the flats and valleys of Manina. “It is nice here, uncle. Everything is so clean, and everyone so friendly.” “Not like the old paa eh?” Then Tom continued, “No wonder the Maori liked to talk all night. The meeting house with its coloured mats on the floor, without mattresses and sometimes no sheets, made a very hard bed to sleep on. No wonder I live in the city now. You have to be tough, when you go in to our Maori sleeping houses.” “Uncle, will you give baby a name, a nice name … please?” “Well Tirita, you are a little rebel you know. All these months, and at last you want me to help you. You have never visited us, either at home or at church; you have never come to any of our dances or socials. The Maori Club never sees you. I know that many of our people steer away from their own race. They feel ashamed of mixing. It's that Pakeha blood in you that's doing it. I wish you would follow your mother's side more. After all she can claim to be somebody, she is a chieftainess. Don't shut yourself away from your own.” “No uncle! It's not that. My work keeps me away. My best friends are the Pakehas with whom I work. True, we go to many parties. It was at one of these that I met the father of my child, Jim Hale. He is a Pakeha boy. Yesterday his mother came here to see me. I don't know how she found out that I was here. Her son will marry me when he returns with the Task Force in Malaya. But uncle, I don't want him. I thought he was everything to me, with his good looks, and his new car in which we went to many places. We lived in sin, and this is the result. He asked me to marry on his final leave. I was carrying our baby then, but I did not tell him. I may be making another mistake. But I don't want him, ever.” Tirita was weeping after she had spoken. “E Tiri kaati! 5 ‘Don't cry, Tiri.’ After all, Jim is the only one who can give your baby her right name. Do not be too hasty about it. You may for ever regret discarding Mrs Hale's offer.” “No! … my mind is made up.” “Oh cheer up, darling! it won't be as bad as all that. Hine is a good name, yes, Hine Hirai, that is your auntie's name. Or your granny's—Harata, Harata Hirai.” “Hine will be the one. Hine Harai, my daughter, Hine. Thank you, that is pretty … Hine Hirai.” “Now Tirita, the next point is this. You will come and live with us. There is plenty of room, and we are happy to have you. Your mother would like it that way too. Give Jim a chance. You could learn to love him again. That was a Maori custom. The parents arranged the marriages of their children. There was no love in it at first. That always came in later. This could happen to you and Jim. Don't you think so?” After a long pause, and it seemed that most people in that ward were by this time unconsciously trying to catch the few words that drifted from Tirita's bedside, she finally looked squarely at her uncle and in a soft voice began: “Uncle, I'm a backblock girl. Yes, just a country girl. I was hypnotized by everything I saw here. Manina was placed right out of my mind when I compared the streets with the dusty roads, pot-holed and unsealed, the shabby post office and store in one, with the buildings here. The monotony of Manina's empty spaces, with the same faces day after day, and the dullness of the days, week in and week out, is never to be compared with the changing scenes in the city, and the endless films to see, and the parties to go to. “Mother will come to take baby from me, and I will return to my job; I can always become a tram conductor. Trams fascinate me. This will always be my home. The city can swallow and hide me completely. Yes, it can hide me and my shame. Please do not think me ungrateful. I appreciate what you and Hine are doing for me. Perhaps I am being foolish. Surely I have learned my lesson.” “You sound as if your mind is already made up,” said Tom, then he paused. He was thinking rapidly too of the state at home. No Maori marae was adjusted to meet the demand of the modern Maori youth. There were no jobs at home, and organized sport and recreation consisted solely of rugby and basketball, and these were made as excuses for gargantuan drinking sprees. Young people like Tirita were tired of their elders' way of life, and so they were moving into the cities in hundreds. Good jobs in plenty were available—bus drivers, school teachers, waitresses, nurses, wharf workers, factory hands, carpenters, rubbish