"Then you are better than people say."
"Sh—sh—!" the woman cried, pointing to Shyuote, "you need not speak thus. Sa uishe,"—she turned to the boy,—"go to rest."
"I won't!" growled the disobedient child, "I want to hear what you say."
"That is just what you shall not," commanded the woman. "Go out at once. Lie down on the hides."
Even the father became impatient now, for he saw that nothing would be said in the boy's presence. So he ordered him to leave. Slowly and reluctantly Shyuote obeyed; but when his sullen glance accidentally met the eye of Hayoue he accelerated his motions. His uncle was not a favourite of his.
"Well, what do you want? Why did you call me?" This query Zashue negligently addressed to his brother, as if expecting the latter to inform him of the object of the interview. But it was Say Koitza who undertook the task of replying. In earnest and measured tones she said,—
"Umo, we have called and sent for you in order to tell you that Okoya, my child, your son, is going with the girl of Tyope. Now we wish to ascertain what you think of it, and what you have to say."
"Is that all?"
"Okoya is your child as well as mine," Say emphatically stated; "it cannot be immaterial to you whom he selects for his wife."
"I don't bother about that," he yawned, "The motātza is old enough to care for himself. It is his business and yours, koitza. It does not concern me, and still less you," turning to his brother.