in words simplified for Maori comprehension, and the aunt and relations
said they understood, and that he was "perfectly right, Mr. Lorrens."
They were very respectful. The teacher said that if August
would not return home, he was willing to let her stay at the cottage
until such time as her uncle, who was absent, returned, and he (the teacher)
could talk the matter over with him. The relations thought
that that was the very best thing that could be done, and thanked him.
The aunt, two sisters, and as many of the others, including the children,
as were within sight or hail at the time -- most of them
could not by any possible means have had the slightest connection
with the business in hand -- accompanied the teacher to the cottage.
August took to the flax directly she caught sight of her relations,
and was with difficulty induced to return. There was a lot of talk in Maori,
during which the girl and her aunt shuffled and swung round
at the back of each other, and each talked over her shoulder,
and laughed foolishly and awkwardly once or twice; but in the end
the girl was sullenly determined not to return home, so it was decided
that she should stay. The schoolmistress made tea.

August brightened from the first day. She was a different girl altogether.
"I never saw such a change in a girl," said the young schoolmistress,
and one or two others. "I always thought she was a good girl
if taken the right way; all she wanted was a change and kind treatment."
But the stolid old Maori chairman of the school committee
only shrugged his shoulders and said (when the schoolmistress,
woman-like, pressed him for an opinion to agree with her own),
"You can look at it two ways, Mrs. Lorrens." Which, by the way,
was about the only expression of opinion that the teacher was ever able
to get out of him on any subject.