Again Billy shrugged his shoulders. Lydia looked at the two in despair, then she smiled and cried, "Oh, there's Margery! Isn't she lovely!"
It was Margery, just home from boarding-school, where she gaily announced as she shook hands she had been "finally finished."
"Though," she added. "Daddy wants to pack me right off again because of this silly investigation. As if I wanted to miss the fun of viewing all our best family skeletons!"
"Margery," cried Lydia, quickly, "you're so beautiful that you're simply above envy. What a duck of a dress!"
"Isn't it!" agreed Margery. "Kent, do get me a chair. I'll spoil all my ruffles on the grass. Well! Here I am! And what were you all discussing so solemnly when I interrupted?"
"Indian graft!" said Billy, laconically.
"Isn't it awful! And isn't it funny! You know, I was actually proud that I lived in Lake City. The girls used to point me out in school to visitors."
Margery, exquisite in her dainty gown, her wonderful black eyes gleaming with fun, as a sample of Lake City dishonesty appealed to the sense of humor of her audience and they all laughed, though Lydia felt her throat tighten strangely as she did so,—Margery, made exquisite on the money of blind squaws and papooses that froze to death!
"Daddy is all worked up, though I told him they certainly hadn't done anything much to him, so far, and I'd feel real neglected if they didn't find he had an Indian wife up his sleeve," Margery went on. "Oh, Billy, by the way. Daddy says he thinks Senator Alvord started the whole thing. Did he?"
"Yes, and I helped," replied Billy shortly.