“Maybe. There are religious people who dance at their services. But here we are. This is the Doctor’s house, and you’ll meet Wahneenah.”
“Wahneeny! You don’t tell me that good, pious parson is consortin’ with that bad-tempered Indian squaw!”
“Wait, Mercy. You must not speak like that of her, nor think so. She is as my very own mother. She is nobility itself. Everybody acknowledges that. I want there should be peace, even if there can’t be love, between you two. It’s better, isn’t it, to understand things in the beginning?”
“Hmm! You can speak your mind out yet, I see. But that’s all right. I don’t care, child. I don’t care. It does my old eyes good just to look at you; an’, for once, I’ll ’low Abel was right in wantin’ to move out here. I’m lookin’ for him ’fore night, by the way. But hold on! Who’s that out in the back yard, with feathers in his hair, an’ a blue check shirt, grinnin’ like a hyena, an’ a knife stickin’ out his pocket? Wait till I get hold of him, my sake!”
Mercy’s words poured out without breathing-space or stop, and the Sun Maid laughed as she replied:
“Why, that’s only Osceolo. Do you know him?”
“Kitty Briscoe! All the wild horses in Illinois can’t make me believe no different but ’twas him set our barn afire!”
“When? He’s not been away—for some days.”
“Wait till he catches sight of me!”
But when the young Indian did turn around, and saw the pair watching him, he coolly walked toward them, regarding Mercy as if she were an utter stranger, and one whom he was rather pleased to meet.