"After that," Carla went on to say, "he came to me every morning to see if he was clean enough to go to school."
"So you were the good fairy, Carla, who wrought the transformation in him. He certainly was a very dirty little boy the first morning he came to school, but he has been pretty clean ever since."
Donald, who had been listening, now spoke up again.
"Oh, Wathemah's all right, only I thocht ye likit him mair nor the rest o' us."
"No, she don't, neither," stoutly maintained Brigham. "I guess I know. She's always fair."
At this moment, Wathemah himself drew near. He had been to the timber for mistletoe, and returned with his arms full of sprays of green, covered with white waxen berries. He walked proudly to his Beloved, and gave her his offering. Then he stepped back and surveyed her.
"Wathemah love he teacher," he said in a tone of deep satisfaction.
"She ain't yourn, ye Apache savage," cried Donald. "She don't love ye; she said so," added the child, maliciously.
Like a flash, Wathemah was upon him, beating him with all his strength. He took the law into his own hands, settled his score, and laid his opponent out before Esther could interfere. When she grasped Wathemah's arm, he turned upon her like a tiger.