“No,” he said.

“Shut up.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“What about? Same old thing all the time. Talk, talk, talk. You make me tired.”

“You know what. Give us a kiss.”

Huia laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re mad. Behave yourself. Mrs. Claire will go crook if you hang about. I’m going home.”

“Come on,” he muttered, and flung his arm around her.. She fought him off, laughing angrily, and he began to upbraid her. “I’m not posh enough. Going with a Pakeha now, aren’t you? That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you talk to me like that. You’re no good. You’re a no-good boy.”

“I haven’t got a car and I’m not a thief. Questing’s a ruddy thief.”

“That’s a big lie,” said Huia blandly. “He’s all right.”

“What’s he doing at night on the Peak? He’s got no business on the Peak.”

“Talk, talk, talk. All the time.”

“You tell him if he doesn’t look out he’ll be in for it. How’ll you like it if he gets packed up?”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Oh, you are silly,” cried Huia, stamping her foot. “Silly fool! Now get out of my way and let me go home. I’ll tell my greatgrandfather about you and he’ll makutu you.”

“Kid-stakes! Nobody’s going to put a jinx on me.”

“My great-grandfather can do it,” said Huia and her eyes flashed.

“Listen, Huia,” said Eru. “You think you can get away with dynamite. O.K. But don’t come at it with me. And another thing. Next time this joker Questing wants to have you on to go driving, you can tell him from me to lay off. See? Tell him from me, no kidding, that if he tries any more funny stuff, it’ll be the stone end of his trips up the Peak.”

“Tell him yourself,” said Huia. She added, in dog Maori, an extremely pointed insult, and taking him off his guard slipped past him and ran round the hill.