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"Taio Vahiné!"

There was no response. She called again, more loudly. "Taio Vahiné, O!"

Presently she heard a slight stirring within doors. "É," a voice replied. "O vai tera?"

"It is I--Mauri."

"Wait, then. I will light the lamp."

A moment later the hut with its walls of split bamboo was outlined, like a small cage, with bars of light. An old woman, her scant hair hanging in a single braid, opened the door, the lamp in her hand, as Mauri mounted the steps. Her figure was scarcely larger than that of a child, forming a striking contrast to the snow-white hair and the lined and rugged face of a woman of eighty.

"Enter, Mauri. It is a late hour you come." She turned to peer at her again before leading the way into the small bare room. "There is nothing wrong at home?"

"You shall hear," Mauri replied. "You will forgive me, Mama Taio, for disturbing your rest? I have not come without reason."

"Aita é péapéa. The slumbers of the old are light. The visit was expected. I dreamed of you--when was it?--three nights back."