When he had finished, he asked,-- "When will Zashue be here ?" "I do not know," replied Say.
Hayoue turned to his nephew,-- "Okoya, will you let me speak to your yaya alone ?" These words he accompanied with a knowing wink at the young man.

It amused Okoya to see that his uncle came so decidedly _post festum_ in the matter, but he at once rose and went out.
In the court-yard it was still very damp, and hardly anybody was outside of the dwellings; but from the estufas there sounded merry talking, singing, and the beating of drums.

Okoya stood a while in the doorway, undecided whether he ought not to go to Mitsha at once.

He wavered, but at last the impressions received during the day, especially the warnings about Mitsha's mother, prevailed, and he concluded not to go at this time.

He was afraid as yet to cross the threshold of that woman's home.
So he crept into the estufa of Tanyi hanutsh, sat down beside the others, and soon joined in the chorus of discordant voices in the everlasting refrain,-- "Ho-[=a]-[=a]! Heiti-na! Ho-[=a]-[=a]! Heiti-na!" In the meantime Hayoue had drawn closer to Say in the kitchen, saying,-- "Sister-in-law, I have come to speak to you concerning Okoya." She motioned to him to remain where he was, and said, half in jest, half in earnest,-- "Stay where you are, I hear you.