"You should see the building there now," said Esther. "Do you know that the people who were most lawless when we were there, are now law-abiding citizens? Gila is said to be one of the best towns in Arizona."
"That seems like a miracle,—your miracle, Mother Esther." He rose from his chair and stood for a moment behind her, and said in a low voice, as in childhood, "Me mother, me teacher." There was a suspicious choke in his voice, and, turning, he lifted Edith, tossed her to his shoulder, and ran with her down toward the road. Kenneth overtook him, and as they strolled along, they talked of many things, but chiefly of Esther, and her great work for the Indian.
"How did it all come about?" asked Wathemah.
"Oh, in a roundabout way. Her magazine articles on the Indian first drew attention to her. Then her address at the Mohonk Conference brought her into further prominence. She was asked to speak before the Indian Commission. Later, she was sent by the Government to visit Indian schools, and report their condition. She certainly has shown marked ability. The more she is asked to do, the more she seems capable of doing."
"A wonderful woman, isn't she?"
"Yes. Vital. What she has done for the Indian, she has also done for the cause of general education in Arizona."
"I fear she will break down under all this, Father Kenneth."
"Never fear. Work is play to her. She thinks rapidly, speaks simply, and finds people who need her absorbingly interesting."
"Yes, but she gives herself too much to others," protested the Indian youth.
"Well, we must let her. She is happier so," responded Kenneth.