"Had we not better speak to Zashue?" suggested Say Koitza.
Hayoue remained thoughtful for a while; then he said,—
"I dislike to say aught against my own brother, but in this matter I dislike to speak to him."
"He is Okoya's father," objected Say.
"True, but he is Koshare, and completely under Tyope's influence. Nevertheless do as you like, for you know him better than I do."
"He ought to come soon," Say said, and rose.
She went out. A noise of quarrelling children was approaching the door. Soon she clearly distinguished the voice of Shyuote scolding.
"Come with me, worm! Go home, frog!" he yelled, and mournful cries succeeded to his kind invitation. At the same time his young sister, propelled by a violent push of his fist, stumbled into the outer room and grasped the dress of her mother for protection.
"Satyumishe is beating me," whined the little one, glancing anxiously toward the entrance. In the doorway appeared Shyuote himself, a solid lump of mud from head to foot. His black eyes stared out of the dirty coating that covered his face, like living coals. The appearance of his mother put an end to his hostile actions,—he felt uncertain about the manner in which they would be viewed by his parent. Say quickly changed his forebodings into absolute certainty.
"Are you not ashamed of yourself, you big, ugly uak," she scolded, "to beat your poor little sister?"