her, ‘Next time you want to go playing at being a Maori, make sure you know the rules. Just don't expect me to join in the game. I am what I am.’ ‘Your father's son,’ she said. ‘Shut up,’ he said, and having no more words to slash her with, would have hit her with his hands if they'd not been clenched on the steering wheel. They got back to town quite early. At home there would be no food, because she'd got nothing in, thinking they'd be late back, and maybe eat somewhere along the road. ‘I suppose you want to go to your mother's for a meal?’ he said. ‘Well, we usually do on a Sunday night. Might as well,’ she answered, trying to sound bright and normal. ‘She'll probably have something in the pot.’ ‘I'll bet she will.’ But dinner was nearly over when they got there. ‘I'll cook you up something,’ said Sally's mother. ‘Don't bother, I'm not hungry,’ said Piri. ‘Neither am I,’ Sally said quickly. Her

TE AUTE TRUST BOARD ENTRANCE BURSARIES TO TE AUTE COLLEGE, BOYS AND HUKARERE, GIRLS FOR 1974 A number of Entrance Bursaries are available for each of these Colleges, some on the basis of merit only and some a combination of merit and financial need. One application covers all available bursaries, and applications should be addressed to the Principal, Te Aute College, Pukehou, Hawke's Bay, or the Superintendent, Hukarere, Napier Terrace, Napier. The following information will be required as to whether the nominee— 1. is interested in merit only bursaries. 2. is of Maori descent. Closing date: Applications must reach above by the end of Term 2, i.e. 17th August, 1973.

mother, who loved whisking up snacks, was disappointed. ‘Well, there's still cheesecake to come, it's delicious, a new recipe, really rose up beautifully,’ she chattered, cutting them slices. ‘It's fab, Mum,’ Sally said, trying it. She was starving. Piri put his down. ‘Not my thing at all.’ He pushed the plate away and stood up. ‘Finish yours,’ he said to Sally. ‘Then I think we'd better make tracks. It's been a long day.’ Sally glanced at her mother who wouldn't look at her. It was as much as she expected of her son-in-law, sooner or later, but she'd bound herself not to say so. Sally got up too, kissed her mother, and excused herself. Out in the car again, she said, with the sort of fury there'd never been between them before, ‘You did that on purpose.’ ‘What?’ he said evenly. ‘You know very well you didn't eat that cheesecake to pay me back.’ ‘Don't you hand me that,’ he said dangerously. ‘Look, I eat your stroganoffs and your pizzas, your shish kebabs and your curries, and your tortillas and vol-au-vents, and I even have an olive in my drink, and I damn’ well like it all. But I don't like cheesecake,’ he shouted. ‘What are you crying for, eh?’ he snarled, as she turned her head away without answering. ‘They said it wouldn't work …’ ‘Who said what wouldn't work?’ ‘Everyone. You and me.’ ‘Oh yes, it'll work all right, in your nice, clean fastidious, hygenic world. That's all I asked from you and that's what I got, and you go trying to muck it up with something different, that's all.’ She stared at her hands in her lap, covering them with falling tears. As she said no more, he felt fear, urgent as pain. She saw him look up and the car slowed down. Thoughtfully frowning to himself, he reversed back up the road, and stopped. ‘Now what?’ ‘You must be hungry,’ he said gently, through spent anger. Beside them stood a piecart. ‘Hop out,’ he said. At the piecart counter there was an as-