"And why not? Do you think Oxford and Cambridge monopolise the learning of nations? We also in Dunedin," concluded Kaituna proudly, "have an university." "To teach the young idea how to shoot--delightful." "But I thought there was no game to shoot," said Tommy wickedly. Mrs. Valpy reproved the trio for their frivolous conversation. "You are all talking sad nonsense." "On the contrary, gay nonsense," retorted Clendon lightly; "but I foresee in this badinage the elements of an article for _The Satirist_. Miss Pethram, I am going to use you as copy. Tell me all about yourself." "To be published as an essay, and ticketed 'The New Pocahontas.'" "Perhaps," replied the essayist evasively, "for you are a kind of nineteenth century Pocahontas. You belong to the children of Nature." "Yes, I do," said Kaituna, quickly; "and I'm proud of it. My father went out to New Zealand a long time ago, and there married my mother, who was the daughter of a Maori mother. My grandmother was the child of a chief--a real Pocahontas." "Not quite; Pocahontas was a chieftainess in her own right." "And died at Wapping, didn't she?" said Mrs. Valpy, placidly. "Of course the dark races always give way to the superiority of the white." Kaituna looked indignantly at this fat, flabby woman, who spoke so contemptuously of her Maori ancestors, who were certainly superior to Mrs. Valpy from a physical point of view, and very probably her equal mentally in some ways. It was no use, however, arguing with Mrs. Valpy over such a nice point, as she was firmly intrenched behind her insular egotism, and would not have understood the drift of the argument, with the exception that she was a white, and therefore greatly superior to a black. Toby saw the indignant flash in her eyes, and hastened to divert the chance of trouble by saying the first thing that came into his mind. "Is your mother in England, Miss Pethram?" "My mother is dead." "Oh! I beg--I beg your pardon," said Toby, flustering a little at his awkwardness: "I mean your father." "My father," replied Kaituna, cheerfully. "Oh, he is out in New Zealand again. You know, we lived out there until a year ago. Then my father, by the death of his elder brother, became Sir Rupert Pethram, so he brought me home. We always call England home in the Colonies. He had to go out again about business; so he left me in Mrs. Valpy's charge." "Delighted to have you, my dear," murmured the old lady, blinking her eyes in the sunshine like an owl. "You see, Mr. Clendon, we are near neighbours of Sir Rupert's down in Berkshire." "Oh!" said Clendon, raising himself on his elbow with a look of curiosity in his eyes, "that is my county. May I ask what particular part you inhabit?" "Near Henley." "Why, I lived near there also." "What," cried Tommy, with great surprise, "can it be that you are a relative of Mr. Clendon, the Vicar of Deswarth?" "Only his son." "The young man who would not become a curate?"