So she put the direct question,-- "You spoke with your nashtio about Mitsha ?" "I did." "What says he of the makatza ?" Had the room been better lighted Say would have seen how flushed Okoya's face became, notwithstanding the tawny colour of his complexion.

The boy saw at once that he had confessed much more than he had intended,--that the secret of his interview of the morning was divulged.

Recede he could not; neither could he conceal his embarrassment.

He began to twist the end of his wrap, and stammered,-- "He says not much." And then he stared at the doorway with that stolid air which the Indian assumes when he is in trouble.
"Does he speak good or ill ?" Say insisted.
"Good," muttered Okoya, casting his eyes to the ground.

The mild, soft smile which played over his mother's features as he uttered the word escaped him.