“Oh, I know,” Anne murmured aside to Norma. “We were having a party last year. They said an Indian wanted to come in, but of course Father would not let her bother everybody.”
“Your father bad man!” repeated Sal Seguin. “I not forget!”
Anne shrugged her shoulders airily. “Well, if that is all, I may as well go back and finish dressing. Thank you for calling me, Nancy!” and she walked away with a disagreeable swing.
“Humph!” grunted the old Indian with a malicious leer.
Each of the girls bought something. Even Gilda, whose pocket-money was very scarce indeed, purchased a tiny thimble-case for Tante. Norma departed with a photograph frame. Beverly had piled up quite a mound of souvenirs, saying they would make lovely Christmas presents. Sal packed the remaining things back in her sack. Last of all she took up the grey moccasins which Anne had liked. Then suddenly she turned to Beverly. “I give them to you,” she said. “You speak kind. You real Indian; big heart! Not like daughter of bad man.”
“Oh, thank you!” Beverly took the little moccasins. “They are very pretty,” she said. “But I shall pay you.”
“No pay. Humph!” The old woman waved her hand in the air with a grand gesture. “My fathers owned all the land beyond and behind, rich Chiefs. My father big Chief. I am the last. But the white people go on forever. And some are bad. Not you! Humph!”
Without another word she shouldered her pack and walked away. Down the path she disappeared. But presently through the branches of the trees they saw her paddling swiftly towards the South.
“I wonder where she lives?” mused Beverly. “Poor old thing!”
“Probably in the Indian Reservation at Oldtown,” said Nancy.