bloomin’ near fifty and she must be about the same! Fancy being suckers at that age!” But I heaved a sigh of relief, as I was pleased with my father's choice of friends. “Never mind, it's much better than having a younger couple,” I said. “They won't expect so much or be too critical at that age.” “Now who was worrying about that silly?” snorted Hiri again. “I only wanted to see if the lady was good-looking.” Really! He was most annoying. I hoped he wasn't going to be rude to the visitors. “You women are damned silly!” he went on, “I'm like daddy. I don't care what people think about the house. Besides, that's not everything. All people want is a jolly good feed and a quiet room to sleep in. Peace and quiet and a full stomach! That's all we men want. But you women! Always worrying about something not worth anything. All these women round here are the same. As soon as they see a strange car at the gate, they want to know who's in it. If it's a Maori he can come in even if the floor's dirty. If it's a pakeha they fly around and shut up all the bedroom doors so he won't see the torn wallpaper and the bare floors. They even throw out the food they're eating if it isn't plum pudding or an awful piece of cake. Then the poor bloke can hardly be comfortable because you women are so tongue-tied with worrying about what's behind the door, or what the pakeha's going to say if he's offered puha and pipis. We pride ourselves on our hospitality. Well! You might as well go and bury the world! Hospitality be blowed!” I was certainly getting an earful. Hiri could be most exasperating. I felt like boxing his ears. I was worried in case the visitors overheard the flow of words. He would never understand. He just didn't appreciate beauty in new things. No love for anything nice. That was his trouble. They were still in the kitchen. They were still laughing and talking. My mother had relaxed and already she was telling her usual repertoire of funny stories. I hoped the visitors weren't going to be bored. Mrs Mills was enchanted with the garden. She also admired the house. “Did you say you had twelve children? You keep your floors so clean. Mrs Hemi.” “Call me Horiana. It's much more friendly.” said my mother. She sounded so pleased with everything! It looked as though we were going to have a lovely evening. Mr Mills was a Maori scholar. He was very interested in my mother's photographs. “I've seen this portrait in the museum,” he said, referring to the chief over the chimney. We popped up at the windows where they couldn't see us. We listened to everything they said. My older brothers scorned such childish nonsense. “Fancy listening to other people's conversations!” came the scornful voice of Hiri again. But my sisters and I took no notice of him. The visitors had eaten. It was time for our dinner. While we ate they watched us. They had never seen a family so large. “How on earth do you manage to feed them all?” the lady gasped. “Oh,” said my mother, all calm and collected, “it's just like feeding one, when you get used to it. Besides they can pretty well feed themselves by now. They're quite a help you know, especially the older ones.” She beamed at us in pride. “The older boys milk the cows and the girls help me with the housework.” We were all very shy. We couldn't eat very well while they looked on. We said silly things like: ‘No thank you’ … ‘Pass me the knife please’ … ‘Yes please’ … It was a dreadful meal with those pakehas looking on. My mother had a warning look on her face every time we took a bite. ‘Don't put your knife in your mouth’ … ‘Don't put your elbows on the table’ … She just couldn't keep quiet. The onslaught of the storm was: “Natana go outside and blow your nose you dirty little tike.” My mother was most apologetic. “It's terribly difficult trying to teach them manners.” “Oh,” said the lady, “I think they're very polite. Such a charming shyness too. Such beautiful black eyes and such gorgeous skins!” Twelve pairs of black eyes started at her in disbelief and amazement. My mother was fully consoled by the compliment. I liked the lady because she was so generous with her compliments about us and the house. So now I wished that she were younger so that my brothers could like her too. But she was just too old to be admired by them. Her hair was almost white. She wore glasses too. My brothers had such rude names for people who wore glasses. She had a very long neck. She sat quite straight and she always clasped hands when she was not doing anything. She had such a large bosom that I was sure it would reach out over the plate. And when she talked she looked like a turkey with her large bosom and her long neck. No! My brothers would never approve. Mr Mills wore glasses too. He looked very severe when he was smoking his pipe. When he stood up he made our kitchen look very small. He was a teacher, but he didn't talk about children. His face was very red and his hair was very thin. Every time he clutched his pipe I was sure he'd be strict with children. But my father thought he was wonderful. He knew such a lot of things! He knew some Maori legends I had never heard of before. Then I began to wish they'd leave the kitchen, for we were still very hungry. My sisters and I had thought the lady was very nice and now we thought she was very silly. She kept on saying such nice things about us and my stomach was going in and out. We hadn't eaten plum pudding