what he was doing, he brushed himself down, wiped his shoes with a piece of rag, raised the tips of his collar high and rode slowly down to the station. He was going to go in there and take Ellie to the dance. He'd had enough of this fly-by-night business. It was time they let her parents know. He knew it was right thing. They couldn't do anything about it. He walked right up to the door and didn't falter when he saw through the glass it was Mr and not Mrs Dashfield shuffling up the passage. “Hullo, young feller. What can we do for you?” “I've come to take Ellie to the dance.” Mr Dashfield gasped like a goldfish, and like a goldfish, no sound came out. “Er, I'd better go and see,” he said at last. He could hear them talking at the back of the house, Ellie's high voice, and then her father, getting louder and louder. “You tell him,” he heard, “you're responsible.” He couldn't catch her reply, but it was Mr Dashfield who came up the passage. “I'm sorry. Ellie's already arranged to go out with somebody else.” “Could I speak to her please?” “Er—I suppose so. Just hold on a minute.” He held on for two, three, four minutes and then Ellie came down the passage; “I'm so sorry,” she said, self-consciously patting a last curl, “but I was in the middle of getting changed.” This was a bit different from the Ellie he had known. If she had ‘gone to town’, told him to clear out, it would've been all right, but she was so remote, so distant, as if invisible doors had closed between them. He forced himself to say, “Ellie, I've got to talk with you. Can I see you at the dance?” “Aw, I don't know.” He flushed. “I thought you were going with me.” “I said I'd see you at the dance. I didn't say for you to—” “Who's it you're going with?” She bridled, “None of your business.” “I said who's it you're going with?” She recoiled, frightened by the look in his eyes. “Go away. You've caused enough trouble already. I didn't say I was going with you.” So that was it. So that's why she said “keep it a secret”. Not that he had. He was a Maori, not good enough for her. “If you really want to know,” she was saying, “I'm going—” but he didn't give her a chance to finish; “My father's a pakeha, same as yours. Better than yours.” She looked astonished. “You disgust me,” she said and slammed the door. Hating himself and the whole world he roared back, past the party, past the dance. When he came to his gate, he turned in. The lamp was still on. “Where you been?” asked his mother. “None of your business.” “In a fight?” “I said, ‘none of your business’.” “Where are you going now, son?” He wasn't going anywhere, just wanted to change his trousers, but he said “Out!” “Your tea's on the stove—Johnson called in—dropped off some wild pork—got three weaners—” the old voice faltered on while savagely he packed his clothes. He couldn't stand it, had to get away. The more he thought about it, the better it seemed. But she pretended not to notice, went about laying his place: “You'll be hungry, son?” “I've eaten.” She didn't want to hear. “I got some puha. Never seen so much as this year. Must be all this rain.” Then, as he was closing his case, she faced him “Where you going, son?” Her voice was weak, as if it were already too late. “Away.” He felt his resolve weakening. “On my own.” In his weakness, he brushed his mother roughly aside. “I'll write.” And he roared up the white road. Where was he going? He neither knew nor cared.

Teaching the Malay language in New Zealand was suggested by the Prime Minister of Malaya in a farewell broadcast after his recent tour of New Zealand. The language was spoken by more than 100 million people in South East Asia who were the closest to New Zealand and Australia, he said. “This would be, to my mind, the surest and most effective way of cementing relations between the peoples of this region,” he said. “English is an official language in Malaya and is being taught extensively in our schools and in Indonesia. It would be very useful for you, on your part, to encourage the study of Malay among your people. One thing we can do under the Colombo Plan is to provide teachers for this purpose.”

Two historic series of cave drawings by the oldtime Maori have been found at Rapanui and Mokau, North Taranaki, similar to a notable discovery at Tongaporutu, reported to the Polynesian Society in 1939. The drawings, though fairly crude are of considerable archaeological and ethnological interest and it is hoped to excavate one cave and take impressions for preservation in the Taranaki Museum of the more interesting inscriptions in the three caves. Human footprints with three, four, five and six toes dominate the inscriptions but the old-time artists have included representations of fish, a woman, what could be a hei-tiki, a canoe prow and a bird, with a few other figures of obscure reference. The six-toed foot-print recalls that Te Rauparaha was reputed to have six toes, while there is a history of children who have been born in the district with six toes.