"And the saving of twins, and the right of twin-mothers to live as women and not as unclean beasts in the bush?" she asked.
"No, no, we will not have it. Our town will spoil."
After much talk they said, "Go home, Ma, and we shall discuss it and see you again"—the native way of ending a matter.
Her next discussion was with the town of Odoro Ikpe itself. The old chief was urbane, and gave her every honour. Bringing out a plate with _3_s. upon it, he said, "Take that to buy food while staying here, as we have no market yet." She took the money, kissed it, put her hands on his head, and thanked him, calling him "father," but requested him to take it and buy chop for the children, and she would eat with him another day. The old man went away and returned with some yams, which he asked her to cook and eat. As they talked he gradually lost his fear, and then she asked him bluntly about his attitude to the Gospel. He and his big men told her frankly what their difficulties were, and these she demolished one by one. After two hours' fencing and arguing the tension gave way to a hearty laugh, and the old chief said, with a sweep of his hand toward the crowd:
"Well, Ma, there they are, take them and teach them what you like—and you, young men, go and build a house for book."
"No!" cried "Ma," "we don't begin or end either with a house. We begin and end with God in our hearts."
A young man came forward, and without removing a quaint hat he wore, said, "Ma, we can't take God's word if you bring twins and twin-mothers into our town."
It was out at last. Instead of arguing, "Ma" looked at him as witheringly as she could and replied; "I speak with men and people worthy of me, and not with a puny bush-boy such as you have shown by your manners you are."
Off came the hat, and then "Ma" spoke to him in such a way that the crowd were fain to cry:
"Ma, forgive! forgive! he does not know any better."