“She’s the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter,” observed Hinpoha in an awe-stricken tone. “Did you ever hear of anything so wonderful?”
“Are you?” asked Sahwah anxiously, of Hinpoha.
This last question was entirely unrelated to the preceding statement concerning the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter. It was part of the cryptic jargon employed in the discussion of a momentous question.
“I don’t know,” answered Hinpoha uncertainly. “Would you?”
“Oh, do,” begged Gladys, “and then if you find out something nice we’ll go in after you. Oh, I forgot, you can’t tell us anything.”
“Would your mother mind if you did?” asked Hinpoha, hesitating on the brink.
“She really wouldn’t mind, but she’d think it awfully silly,” answered Gladys, “so I don’t believe I’ll tell her.”
“You might find out the whole name,” said Sahwah, looking at Hinpoha.
“And just when it’s going to happen,” finished Gladys.
Hinpoha suddenly made up her mind. “I believe I will,” she said, looking at Sahwah.