“But I don’t like to take these,” said Alvina. “I feel they belong to Natcha-Kee-Tawara. And I don’t want to rob Natcha-Kee-Tawara, do I? Do take them back.”
“No, I have given them. You cannot rob Natcha-Kee-Tawara in taking a pair of shoes—impossible!”
“And I’m sure they are much too small for me.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Madame. “It is that! Try.”
“I know they are,” said Alvina, laughing confusedly.
She sat down and took off her own shoe. The moccasin was a little too short—just a little. But it was charming on the foot, charming.
“Yes,” said Madame. “It is too short. Very well. I must find you something else.”
“Please don’t,” said Alvina. “Please don’t find me anything. I don’t want anything. Please!”
“What?” said Madame, eyeing her closely. “You don’t want? Why? You don’t want anything from Natcha-Kee-Tawara, or from Kishwégin? Hé? From which?”
“Don’t give me anything, please,” said Alvina.