Polly sat down on the chair, motioning to the girls to be seated on the divan.
“I am tired,” she apologized.
And Peggy saw with a pang of remorse and regret that her aunt looked ill as well as unhappy over what she had been through with Bettina and herself. And Peggy also wondered whether she would ever be forgiven, realizing what a difference it would make in all her future life should she lose her affection. Sitting down now beside her aunt she did not dare speak to her nor touch her.
Bettina, however, would not sit down. Suddenly she looked like a contrite child, instead of the somewhat arrogant and superior character she had been pretending to be for the past few hours.
Reaching into her pocket she drew forth a small wooden statuette, carved and brilliantly colored.
“Tewa gave me this; I thought maybe you ought to have it,” Bettina said penitently. “It seems absurd to me and yet I did not like to refuse and hurt his feelings by not accepting. I think it is a kind of an idol which is supposed to bring good fortune. Anyhow, Tewa won it at an Indian race this morning, and he gave it me when he returned to the house and found me there.”
And, like a child giving away a new doll, Bettina handed the little image to her Camp Fire guardian.
Bettina and Mrs. Burton both looked so absurd that, partly from nervousness and more from amusement, Peggy giggled irresistibly.
For an instant Polly and Bettina attempted to pay no attention to her; then Mrs. Burton’s blue eyes lightened and she bit her lips. Bettina only remained grave.
Then, unexpectedly, because she always had done unexpected things and always would, Polly Burton, having changed but little from Polly O’Neill, reached out and impulsively took Bettina’s hand.