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wrong lamb! The crickets were busy singing their night song in the garden. But there were other songs being sung down at the shearers’ quarters, where the Maoris, gathered round the camp fire, were entertaining themselves to the accompaniment of a well-played concertina. Very musical voices they had, thought Ann, and wished she might go nearer to hear the concert more distinctly. As if in answer to this wish, Waring suddenly remarked:

“What about strolling down to listen to the Maoris before we start bridge?”

“How energetic you are,” said Vera. “Can’t we hear them plainly enough without moving?”

“Miss Merrill looks as though she wanted to go,” returned Waring.

“I’d love to,” said Ann.

“Dick, you take Miss Merrill down, and we’ll wait for you here.”

“I want a word with Hicky about the lorry for my wool,” said Waring.

“I don’t think you’ll find Hicky there,” remarked Holmes. “He’s usually over at Omoana in the evenings.”

“I’ll leave a message with Parone then.”

Waring got up.

“I suppose you won’t be happy until you’ve succeeded in dislodging us all from our comfortable chairs,” said Vera, rising lazily.

She made her way towards the steps, and Ann followed. Vera turned.

“Aren’t you coming, Dick?” she called, a faint note of irritation in her voice.

“You three go on. I’ll follow later. I promised to say good night to the kids.”