e teacher
believed her, for falsehood and deceit are foreign to the simple natures
of the modern Maoris. There were no cats; but no score of ordinary cats
could have given colour to the cat theory, had it been raised in this
case. The breath of August advertised onions more than once, but no
human stomach could have accounted for the quantity. She surely could
not have eaten the other things raw--and she had no opportunities for
private cooking, as far as the teacher and his wife could see. The other
Maoris were out of the question; they were all strictly honest.

Thefts and annoyances of the above description were credited to the
"swaggies" who infested the roads, and had a very bad name down that
way; so the teacher loaded his gun, and told August to rouse him at
once, if she heard a sound in the night. She said she would; but a
heavy-weight "swaggie" could have come in and sat on her and had a smoke
without waking her.

She couldn't be trusted to go a message. She'd take from three to six
hours, and come back with an excuse that sounded genuine from its very
simplicity. Another sister of hers lay ill in an isolated hut, alone and
uncared for, except by the teacher's wife, and occasionally by a poor pa
outcast who had negro blood in her veins, and a love for a white loafer.
God help her! All of which sounds strange, considering that Maoris are
very kind to each other. The schoolmistress sent August one night to
stay with the sick Maori woman and help her as she could, and gave her
strict instructions to come to the cottage first thing in the morning,
and tell her how the sick woman was. August turned up at lunch-time next
day. The teacher gave her her first lecture, and said plainly that he
wasn't to be taken for a fool; then he stepped aside to get cool, and,
when he returned, the girl was sobbing as if her heart would break, and
the wife comforting her. She had been up all night, poor girl, and was
thoroughly worn out. Somehow the teacher didn't feel uncomfortable about
it. He went down to the whare. August had not touched a dishcloth or
broom. She had slept, as she always did, like a pig, all night, while
her sister lay and tossed in agony; in the morning she ate everything
there was to eat in the house (which, it seemed, was the Maori way of
showing sympathy in sickness and trouble), after which she brooded
by the fire till the children, running out of school, announced the
teacher's lunch hour.

August braced