“Who you mean?” the woman asked quickly.
“That Smith!” Susie spat out the word like something offensive.
The Indian woman avoided the girl’s eyes.
“I like him,” she answered.
“Mother!”
“Maybe he stay all time.” Her tone was stubborn, as though she expected and was prepared to resist an attack.
“You don’t—you can’t—mean it!”. Susie’s thin face flushed scarlet with shame.
“Sa-ah,” the woman nodded, “I mean it;” and Susie, staring at her in a kind of terror, saw that she did.
“Oh, Mother! Mother!” she cried passionately, dropping on the floor at the woman’s feet and clasping her arms convulsively about the Indian woman’s knees. “Don’t—don’t say that! We’ve always been a little different from the rest. We’ve always held our heads up. People like us and respect us—both Injuns and white. We’ve never been talked about—you and me—and now you are going to spoil it all!”
“I get tied up to him right,” defended the woman sullenly.