"Hoky Poky Wankum Wum,""

sang Tom, capering along backwards before Lucy, whose cheeks were glowing with excitement at the idea of seeing the real New Zealanders.

"Are they tattoed, Tom?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, and don't wear anything but three feathers stuck in the crown of their heads.”

"Tick a feather in him 'at, and call him maccaroni," lisped Aps, who was always anxious to put in his word whenever he heard anything he thought he knew.

"Bravo, Aps!" shouted Tom, in ecstasies, and thinking Aps the cleverest child in the world. "Bravo, Aps! just say that to Old Totakee.”

"Toto, Aps gog-toto!" exclaimed he, holding up a fat leg, and trying to look at his toes. "Aps gog-toto, dis ping went to the market, dis ping stay at home."

Here the poetical effusion of Master Aps was interrupted by the appearance of three of the natives, dressed in the full and most fashionable native costume. The words died on Aps's lips, as, with a shriek of horror, he threw himself into his Mamma's arms, and, catching her round the neck, sobbed out he would be a good boy if they would send the men away.

The poor natives were rather disconcerted by Aps's uproarious conduct, and stood, looking puzzled, while Mrs. Graham, after trying to quiet him in vain, had to carry him back to Bridget, who could not be persuaded to show her face out of the cottage, being quite convinced that the "Ingins," as she would insist upon calling the natives, would immediately kill her master and mistress, and probably cook them upon the very fire she had lighted to prepare dinner.

NATIVE WELCOME.

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"God bless ye, Mam, for fetchen me the baby; he'd go first otherwise; he'd be such a tender morsel, just like a young chicken."

So saying, she cuddled Aps in her arms, and carried him off to the front room, closing the door, and bolting it carefully.

The natives, who had travelled a long way to welcome Mrs. Graham, belonged to the tribe from whom the Government had purchased the land Captain Graham had taken, and, in the first instance, had come to see him alone, helping him, in their own way, with goodwill and kindness, and taking a great interest in the building of the house; it was the natives who built the two huts called Raupo cottages, for the temporary shelter of Captain Graham, Tom, and the men. When everything was ready for the arrival of the "good Captain's" (as they called Captain Graham) family, they retired to their Pah, many miles away; and, after preparing their handsomest dresses, returned to welcome the "lady."

"Wife of the good Captain, we welcome you to our country; we shall call you Mother, and be unto you as sons. Bid us serve you, and we will do it, even as a child obeys his parent. Our wives shall be your daughters, good mother, and we shall tabu you and yours, to preserve you from hurt. We salute you, Oh, Mother and bid you farewell!"

Having made this speech, and before Mrs. Graham could make any answer, the chiefs bowed their heads, gathered their mantles closely round them, and marched quickly and silently away. This was their custom, and the fashionable way of welcoming one they respected;

and when Bridget got courage to go into the kitchen again, she found the natives had left several large baskets; one containing fish, another sweet potatoes, a third fowls, and a fourth something that sent the poor woman shrieking back to the house, to inform her master the "Indians" had brought them babies to eat; but which, upon examination, proved to be nothing more than young pigs, already prepared for roasting, and which, at last, quite convinced Bridget that the New Zealanders were not "Ingins at all, at all; but good, dacent people, if they were not Christians intirely."

But night was drawing in, and even in summer the nights are cool enough for a fire in New Zealand; so Lucy and Beatrice set to work lighting a fire in what they had already christened the drawing-room; and, sitting on all sorts of boxes and packages, here they ate their supper, using two boxes as a table, and an old shawl of Mrs. Graham's as a table-cover. The dinner, or supper, consisted of chickens, pork, and sweet potatoes, tea, and bread; not a bad supper, considering the circumstances; but Bridget was one of those sort of people who can manage with anything, and I really believe could have given you a capital dinner upon the top of Mont Blanc; at any rate, a better one than eleven out of twelve of the fine-lady description of cooks could do; and that, too, with such good humour and fun, that even if the dinner was not quite so good as you could wish, her merry face and funny remarks made you hungry.

CHAPTER XIII.

The First Days in the Cottage-The Bell-birds' Morning HymnLucy's Repentance-Unpacking-Tom makes a Garden-Aps' Gardening.

UPON the morning following their arrival, Lucy was up and out before sunrise. She first went to speak to Bridget, who was already hard at work, getting her kitchen clear of the chips and shavings left by the workmen, and which she declared :

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Kep' her awake all night, for fear of fire."

Next, Lucy examined the appearance of the house from several points, and, being then joined by Tom, who was rather disconcerted to find his sister had got the start of of him on this their first day at home, they set off for the river, to explore its banks, and decide where the boat-house should be.

The sun was just beginning to tinge the snowy-topped hills with crimson, glancing upon the broad surface of the stream, the edges of which were almost black, from the dark shadows of the bushes which overhung the river; from these, a perfect chorus of music was pouring, thousands of Bell-birds singing their morning hymn.

Lucy caught hold of Tom's arm, and made him stand still to listen; but he soon tired, and, telling her not to be sentimental, for she would hear birds every day, walked

on, thereby making Lucy rather ashamed of thinking the song of the little birds so pretty, a feeling which was only banished when her Papa told her that he had gone out at daybreak, nearly twenty times, just to hear the birds, while, next morning, her mother, who joined her in her early walk, actually burst into tears, when the full gush of song broke from the thick bushes. So, after that, Lucy was never ashamed of owning her delight in hearing the Bell-birds.

"Hollo, Luce; don't stand there all day; I want you here," shouted Tom from the river side. "Isn't this the very place for a boat-house; look at this shelf on the bank, and that slope down; my word! what a stunning launch we should have. You shall break the bottle and name her."

"What do you mean? Break what bottle? Why, Tom, you're either losing your senses, or thinking I've lost mine. What, in all the world, can breaking a bottle have to do with a boat's name?"

Tom put his hands in his pockets and indulged in a very irritating burst of laughter, which, as might be supposed, vexed Lucy a good deal, and made her cheeks flush crimson, as, unwilling to get angry with Tom, she turned hastily away, and ran off towards the house as fast as she could, Tom's loud laugh ringing unpleasantly in her ears, all the way. When she reached the enclosure for the garden, she slackened her pace, and, after looking behind, to satisfy herself that Tom had not followed, she began to walk very quietly, and think over what had just happened. In the first place, she began to think she had been very silly to make herself so hot and tired, just because Tom laughed