house at night, she knew that soon the mother would emerge with a brood of fluffy chicks. Great was Maire's happiness when at last the clucky mother and her family of mottled fluff appeared on the scene. Triumphantly she shut them away in the disused tumble-down hapuki. But as these little balls of fluff grew bigger, Maire began to have the most terrible dreams, with fierce-looking animals, and horrid witches who all had mokos like old Rihipete from the Coast. They chased and pursued her, and each time she would run to the wahi tapu and hide in the kaikato where the chicks had been born. Sometimes a horrible great creature, half man and half bird, would swoop down to where she was hiding and drag her away. Ugh. It used to wake her up shivering with fright. One night, piercing screams awoke Maire's parents from their sleep. Rangi rushed to the adjoining bedroom to be greeted by a great din of wailing. All the children had awakened, and joined in the noise out of fellowship for their sister. There stood Maire in the middle of the bed, her innocent face ugly with pain, her body shaking with fright. Seeing her thus, and moved to pity, her father made to gather the child in his strong arms. But the child, on seeing him in his long white undershirt and gaudy pink ‘long johns’, leapt to the bottom of the bed shrieking and screaming with renewed vigour. Dressed like this, he looked too much like that half-man, half-bird in the nightmare. It took the comforting presence of her mother to calm the little one's fright; and then, between sobs, out came the secret of the cemetery. Rangi was aghast, and spent the rest of the night sprinkling the whole house with holy water, muttering prayers and reading texts from the Bible. The third time that he opened the Bible at random, he got quite a shock. Looking for something to soothe his troubled mind, he came upon this text: ‘Why criest thou for thine affliction? Thy sorrow is incurable for the multitude of thine iniquity: because thy sins were increased, I have done these things unto thee.’ ‘Mother of God, save me!’ he cried out. ‘Help me! I am caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.’ What could one do in times like this? They were all going to be punished because his eldest child had tried to defy the tapu. Violating the tapu, they had contracted a hara; a calamity had befallen their home. Now, Ruihi liked to think of herself as a progressive thinker. She was one of those individuals, found in all walks of life, who read a lot; and while she was not well educated, she was very intelligent. Deep in her heart she never believed in all this tapu thing-ma-jig. Times were changing and one must live accordingly. If they found out, some of the old kuias and kaumatuas would insist that her daughter had done wrong. Well, they wouldn't find out from her. Something would be done. Already a plan had began to take shape, a plan that would solve this problem, and with care bring in a little money on the side. With care, she would be the envy of all the other women in her smart red velvet suit at Moana's wedding in a few months' time. Oh dear, if it didn't succeed. No, she must not think like that. Of course it would. Next morning the neighbours looked on in surprise while Rangi and his family rushed around catching squawking fowls. The speculation became serious when all the family set out in their ancient car surrounded by boxes of dazed hens and enough flying feathers to stuff a couple of mattresses. Ruihi and the children shouted and waved in merry acknowledgement, while Rangi hunched over the wheel and drove like the devil himself. An hour or so later the jalopy stopped in a cloud of dust in front of an old weather-beaten shack, whose occupants were related to both Ruihi and Rangi. Let out of their boxes, the shaken hens staggered wearily under the shack. Yes, the generous old couple said, of course they would care for the fowls, and they would willingly save the eggs for them. They were pleased to oblige, for since their house was off the beaten track, visitors to their home had become a rarity. Ruihi explained that three of the fowls were at the clucky stage, and they could place some eggs under them and keep whatever hatched out. No, they were sorry they couldn't stay even for a cup of tea, as they wanted to do some shopping in town. They left in a flurry of haste and dust. Not a mention was made to the kinsfolk about the chooks being contaminated by those which had nested in the takotoranga tupapaku. On the way home Ruihi called on the Dalmatian farmer's wife, whose fame as a baker of delectable cakes was known far and wide.