Oakwood, Pa.
Your husband on board Antares when she sank in collision off Nova
Scotia August first. Now in Good Samaritan Hospital, St. Margaret's,
Nova Scotia, probably fatally injured.
Come.
The signature was that of some official of the government.
"Oh-h-h!" cried the Winnebagos in horror, staring, fascinated, at the fatal sheet of paper in their hands. Migwan ran to Nyoda and put her arms around her in silent sympathy; the rest stood still, with shocked, frightened faces.
After a moment of stunned surprise Nyoda rallied herself. "Come," she said, in her usual calm, brisk tones, "I have to make haste. I must go on that early morning train. It goes through here about four. Help me pack, girls."
Recalled to themselves by the quietness of Nyoda's manner the Winnebagos set about helping in their usual efficient way. Hinpoha and Gladys sped to the kitchen to make coffee and sandwiches; Sahwah sped downstairs into the laundry to bring up the freshly ironed clothes; Slim and the Captain went up into the attic to bring down the suitcase and make themselves generally useful; Migwan went to Nyoda's room with her to help her make ready for the journey.
Sahwah was coming up the cellar stairs with a basket of clothes in her hand. Just as she passed the side entry door she heard someone fumbling with the knob on the outside. The knob turned and the door began to open softly. "Who's there?" called Sahwah sharply, switching on the light in the entry and throwing wide the door. There stood Veronica, with her violin under her arm and her hat and coat on. She started back when she saw Sahwah and the two stood looking into each other's eyes. "She hasn't been home, she's still got her violin," was the thought that went through Sahwah's mind.