Song of the Spirits by Sarah Lark Read Free Book Online

only really see any Maori when there’s a conflict between them and the
pakeha
here and my father has to arbitrate. And that’s thankfully rare. Did you really study law?”
    William described his three semesters in Dublin in vague terms. But the two had to go their separate ways at that point anyway. When they’d entered the hotel, the draft had set a melodious wind chime ringing. Mary and Laurie appeared at once, happily twittering at William and Elaine. One twin took the laundry from Williamand could hardly restrain her excitement at his aid, while the other explained to him that his bath was ready. He had to hurry, however, because dinner would soon be served; the other diners were already there and would undoubtedly not want to wait.
    William politely took his leave of Elaine, whose disappointment was clearly visible. He had to make another move soon.
    “What does one do in Queenstown when one would like to invite a young lady to partake in respectable amusement?” he inquired of the younger of the two bankers just before dinner a short time later.
    He would have preferred that Mrs. O’Keefe not overhear, but the old lady had sharp ears. She seemed to focus her attention inconspicuously but still noticeably on the two men’s conversation.
    “That depends on how respectable,” the banker sighed. “And on the lady in question. There are ladies for whom no amusement is virtuous enough.” The man knew what he was talking about. He had been trying for weeks to court their housemate, the young teacher. “You can accompany those girls to church on Sunday at most… which is not necessarily amusement. But you can invite normal young ladies to the community picnic if there’s one taking place. Or maybe even to a square dance when the housewives’ association puts one on. Daphne’s has one every Saturday, of course, but that is not exactly respectable.”
    “Just let little Miss O’Keefe show you the town,” remarked the older banker. “She would no doubt be happy to do that. She grew up here, after all. And a walk is an innocent undertaking.”
    “As long as it does not lead into the woods,” Mrs. O’Keefe interjected drily. “And if the young lady in question really does happen to be my granddaughter, and therefore a very special young lady, you might want to obtain her father’s permission first.”

    “What exactly do you know about this young man?”
    Although it was a different dinner, the subject was the same. In this case, Ruben O’Keefe was questioning his daughter. Becausealthough William had yet to dare to issue an invitation, Elaine had run into him again the very next day. Once more purely “by chance” of course, this time in front of the entrance to the undertaker’s. A poorly chosen meeting place, but Elaine could not think of any other place that would do the trick on short notice. Not only was Frank Baker, the undertaker, an old friend of her father’s, but his wife was a chatterbox. As a result, the whole town knew about Elaine O’Keefe’s relationship with William Martyn—“A fellow from the gold-miners’ camp,” as Mrs. Baker would no doubt have put it.
    “He’s a gentleman, Daddy. Really. His father has an estate in Ireland. And he even studied law,” Elaine declared, the last bit not without pride. That was her ace in the hole.
    “Aha. And then he emigrated to look for gold? There are too many lawyers in Ireland, is that it?” Ruben asked.
    “You wanted to look for gold once too!” his daughter reminded him.
    Ruben smiled. Elaine would not have been a bad attorney herself. He found it difficult to be strict with her because, as much as he loved his sons, he worshipped his daughter. Elaine was, after all, simply too much like his beloved Fleurette. Aside from the color of her eyes and her mischievous little nose, she took entirely after her mother and grandmother. The red shade of her hair differed a bit from that of her female relatives, Elaine’s hair being darker