ter than I do."

"He ought to come soon," Say said, and rose.

She went out. A noise of quarrelling children was approaching the door.
Soon she clearly distinguished the voice of Shyuote scolding.

"Come with me, worm! Go home, frog!" he yelled, and mournful cries
succeeded to his kind invitation. At the same time his young sister,
propelled by a violent push of his fist, stumbled into the outer room
and grasped the dress of her mother for protection.

"Satyumishe is beating me," whined the little one, glancing anxiously
toward the entrance. In the doorway appeared Shyuote himself, a solid
lump of mud from head to foot. His black eyes stared out of the dirty
coating that covered his face, like living coals. The appearance of his
mother put an end to his hostile actions,--he felt uncertain about the
manner in which they would be viewed by his parent. Say quickly changed
his forebodings into absolute certainty.

"Are you not ashamed of yourself, you big, ugly uak," she scolded, "to
beat your poor little sister?"

"She would not come home."

"Neither would you, lazy brat, else you would have been here a long
while ago! Do not cry, my heart,"--she turned to the weeping child,--"do
not weep. He will not hurt you any more, the bad, bad mocking-bird. Weep
not." She took the crying child into her arms in order to carry her into
the kitchen, but on the way she turned back and called,--

"Shyuote!"

"What do you want," growled the boy, and stumbled after her.

"Do you know where your nashtio is?"

"He is coming."

"Go and tell him to come. Say that Hayoue is here, and that he wants to
see him."

"Did I not tell you that he was coming?" muttered the unruly lad. This
answer was too much for Hayoue, who until now had been a mere listener.
He said in a peculiar tone of command,--

"Will you go or not, you silly, lazy, good-for-nothing whelp! Go at
once, or I will lead you where your father is;" and he pretended to
rise.

Shyuote had not noticed the presence of his uncle. His sudden appearance
upon the scene was to him an unwelcome sight, and he sped away with
unusual and commendable alacrity. Hayoue was greatly amused and laughed
aloud.

"That urchin," he said, "is more afraid of me than of Zashue and you
together. The brat is no good, and will never do for anything but a
Koshare. How different is Okoya!"

Say had again squatted near the hearth. She gathered the crying child
into her arms. The little girl conti