"And so the little party ate ice-cream and cake and chattered until late.
Betty took the Indian woman aside before leaving.
"Isn't the 'New-Yorker' jest wonderful?" she asked delighted.
The old woman looked down at the child's eager face without a smile.
"Betty, I don't like her. Have a care. The Indian knows friend or foe."
Betty's face flushed with righteous indignation.
"For shame, you're not an Indian now—you're a Christian, but you don't talk like one!"
She patted Betty's head lovingly. "You see, Dearie, you see!"
CHAPTER III.
A child's love is as proportionately great as a woman's.