“Didn’t neither,” contradicted Ophelia.
“We’ll see whether they did or not,” said Nyoda, “when the hair grows out from the roots.”
Dressed in the pretty clothes Gladys bought for her she was not at all a bad looking child, but her language and her knowledge of evil absolutely appalled the dwellers at Onoway House. “Did yer old man beat yer up?” she asked sympathetically of Mrs. Landsdowne, when that gentle lady came to call. Mrs. Landsdowne had run into the barn door the day before and had a bruise on her forehead.
Ophelia’s sins in the garden were too numerous to chronicle. When set to weeding she pulled weeds and plants impartially, working such havoc in a short time that she was forbidden to touch a single growing thing. Her ignorance of everything pertaining to the country was only equalled by her curiosity.
“What would happen to the cow if you didn’t milk her?” she demanded of Farmer Landsdowne, as she watched him milking one day. “She’d bust, I suppose,” she went on, answering her own question while Farmer Landsdowne was scratching his head for a reply. “Say, are yer whiskers fireproof?” she asked, scrutinizing his white beard with interest. “Because if they ain’t yer don’t dast smoke that pipe. The Santa Claus in Lefkovitz’s window told me so. Say, what do you do when they get dirty?”
Leaving her alone in the barn for a few moments he heard a mighty squawking and cackling and hastened to investigate. He found the old setting hen running distractedly around one of the empty horse stalls, frantically trying to get out, while Ophelia was holding the big rooster on the nest with her one hand, in spite of the fact that he was flapping his wings and pecking at her furiously. “He ought to do some of the settin’,” she remarked, when taken to task for her act, “he ain’t doin’ nothin’ fer a livin’.”
The squash bugs had descended once more, and were making hay of the squash bed while the sun shone, and the girls worked a whole, long weary afternoon clearing the vines. As the bugs were picked off they were put into tin cans to be destroyed. Tired to death and heartily sick of handling the disagreeable insects the girls quit the job at sundown, having just about cleared the patch. They gathered in Migwan’s big room before supper to make some plans for the Winnebago Ceremonial Meeting which was to be held at Onoway House on the Fourth of July. Ophelia promptly followed them and demanded admittance. “You can’t come in,” said Migwan rather crossly, for there were secrets being told which they did not want her to hear.
Ophelia wandered off in search of amusement. Mr. Bob had fled at her approach and was hiding under the porch, and Betty had been admitted to the council of the Winnebagos, for Migwan and Nyoda had decided at the beginning of the summer that if there was to be any peace with her she would have to be a party to all their doings, and as she was to be put into a Camp Fire Group in the fall she was given this opportunity of learning to qualify for the various honors by watching the intimate workings of the Winnebago group. Tom was over at the Landsdowne’s and Mrs. Gardiner was getting supper and invited Ophelia to stay out of the kitchen when she came down to see if there was any fun to be had there. Ophelia had been allowed to help once or twice and had broken so many dishes with her one-handed way of doing things that Mrs. Gardiner lost all patience and refused to have her around.
Strolling out into the garden in her quest for something to do she came upon the big tin pail containing all the squash bugs, which Migwan intended taking over to Farmer Landsdowne for disposal. A mischievous impulse seized her, and taking off the cover she emptied the bugs back into the bed, where they crawled eagerly back to their interrupted feast of tender leaves. When the prank was discovered Migwan sank wearily down beside the patch she had tried so hard to save from destruction. “Whatever possessed you?” said Nyoda, seizing Ophelia with the firm determination of boxing her ears. But Ophelia shrank back with such evident expectation of a blow that Nyoda loosened her hold.
“Well, ain’t yer goin’ ter punish me?” asked Ophelia, still eyeing her warily for an unexpected attack, with the attitude of an animal at bay. To her surprise there were no blows forthcoming, but she was ordered to pick off all the squash bugs again, and before the job was done she had plenty of time to regret her rash act. All that beautiful long summer evening, when the girls were on the front porch playing games and shouting with laughter, she sat in the squash bed, undoing the mischief she had done. When bed time came she was told to sleep in the cot by herself, and Gladys and Nyoda took no notice of her at all, whispering secrets to each other in bed with never a word to her. The next morning she was awakened at four o’clock and set to work again, and so missed the merry breakfast with the family. Gladys had promised to take her to town in the machine that day, but, of course, this pleasure was forfeited, as the beetles were not yet all picked off. The family was all invited over to the Landsdowne’s for supper that night, but by four o’clock Ophelia realized with a pang of disappointment that she would not even be through by five. Accustomed as she was to brutal treatment, this was the worst punishment she had ever experienced, but she realized that she deserved it and was gamely paying the price without a murmur. When Migwan came out shortly after four and helped her so that she would be done in time to go to Farmer Landsdowne’s with the others her penitence was complete.