"Unfortunately not all. And look, Nance, you are not to have anything to do with those women, see?"
"Yes, daddy," but a note of disappointment was apparent in Nance's voice. "But there may be nurses among them," and her face brightened at the thought.
"Not likely. They would hardly have time to get the message from the Northern Packet, and return on this boat."
Nance made no reply to these words, but stood silently watching the anxious crowd near the steamer. She was sorely grieved that she could not go over to the place, for she longed to look upon the white women, hear them talk, and to see how they were dressed.
"When the nurse comes may I see her, and talk with her, daddy?" she presently asked.
"Ye-s," was the somewhat reluctant assent. "I have no objection to your meeting with good respectable women, but not with such as have come on that steamer to-day."
Nothing more was said about the matter then, and ere long they both went back to the house. But Nance was more restless than usual. The outside world of which she had so often dreamed was being brought to their very door, and her blood was being stirred as never before. She wanted to see, hear, and learn how people, and especially women, acted who had lived in the great world of civilisation. She wished to know of things of which she had been ignorant so long.
About the middle of the afternoon Nance picked up her violin, and strolled over to the Indian encampment. She could express her feelings better upon the violin than in any other way, and Quabee was always so pleased to listen to her. She found the Indian woman near the shore, and received a hearty welcome. Quabee was squatting with several other native women upon the ground, watching with much interest the steamer lying against the opposite bank.
"Come in canoe on water?" she asked, as Nance drew near.
"What, over there?" and the latter pointed to the farther side of the lake.