Hypatia stood back a little space while Mr. Summers and his wife warmly welcomed their pastor and master, with an earnestness there was no mistaking. The dark-skinned contingent then closed in, and obstructed her view of the man whom (with one exception), of all living personages, she was the most anxious to see, whom by reputation she honoured with a feeling akin to adoration. He had come attended only by a middle-aged Maori, whose grizzled countenance and war-worn features showed that he had done his share in the professional occupation of the Maori _gentilhomme_ of the period. He stood apart, leaning on his musket, but from the respect with which he was treated by all who approached, it was evident that he was a personage of no ordinary consideration. It was a scene of more than ordinary interest. The older members of the _hapu_ who still dwelt in the vicinity of the mission, were chiefly those who from age or infirmity were debarred from going to the war, then waged within so short a distance of their homes. A large proportion was composed of women, children, and young people not yet entitled to rank as combatants. All in turn came to be presented to the _Pihopa_ Rangatira, making obeisance due and lowly. To each one he addressed a few words in Maori, the replies to which were made with evident pleasure, the children almost gasping with pride and gratification at the honour of the interview. Inquiries were made after well-known men, who had formerly been regular attendants at the little church, but too often resulted in downcast looks, as the sad word _maté_ (dead) came forth, and in broken accents the name of the battle, skirmish, or locality was uttered. Well posted in the personal history of the missionary centres and their converts, the bishop never failed to bestow a word of sympathy or condolence upon the mourners. The reception being ended, Mr. Summers announced that the assembly was free to betake itself to their _kai_ (or meal), which had been prepared, taxing to the utmost the resources of the establishment. "Permit me, my lord, to present to you Miss Tollemache, a friend and schoolfellow of my wife," said Mr. Summers, as they moved towards the cottage. "A young lady lately from England, who has cast in her lot with us." The bishop looked with extreme surprise at the distinguished-looking girl, so unlike what he naturally expected to see at the place and time. Bowing, however, with easy grace, he said-- "I am afraid I cannot congratulate you upon the occasion you have selected in which to commence your labours in the Master's vineyard. Have you had previous experience, may I ask?" "I have had two years' work in and around Whitechapel," said she. "I took up the East End City Mission work soon after I finished my college course." "Then you have quitted your first sphere of usefulness, may I say, for a wider field?"