The girl turned and looked at him frankly. “Thank you, Harry,” she said, simply. It was then that Hal was convinced that the Indian girl had never thought of him other than a dear friend and companion.
When they reached the ranch house, Harry took both of the horses to the corral, while Winona quietly entered the living room, believing, and truly, that she would find Mrs. Wilson dozing in her comfortable chair.
For a moment Winona stood gazing at the sweet face to which the color of health was slowly returning. Then, quietly, she tip-toed close and, bending, she lightly kissed the forehead beneath the soft gray hair.
She was not usually demonstrative, but, although even her dearest friend had never guessed it, there had always been in the heart of this Indian girl a yearning for that wonderful something that she had never had, the love of a mother.
When a few moments later the little woman opened her eyes it was to see her quiet nurse again in the neat blue and white uniform preparing the evening meal.
Harry came in and offered his services, which were accepted. Winona’s manner, usually so reserved, seemed almost joyous.
“Friend of mine,” she said, “I have a beautiful secret and I think I will tell it to you.”
It was after the evening meal. Mrs. Wilson had been made comfortable for the night and the young people thought her asleep as they sat near the hearth in the living room and spoke quietly together.
“You promised to tell me a beautiful secret,” the lad said, a dread heavy at his heart. “May I hear it now?”