Winona retired into a book, and Tom, looking up a second later, caught sight of its cover.
“Great Scott!” he ejaculated, eying it. “Where did you get that?”
“Where did she get what?” asked Louise, walking unceremoniously in. “Hello, Tom. Oh, Winnie, I want you to show me about this headband. I can’t get the colors matched right—you know you have to be rather kind to beautiful golden hair like mine. It won’t stand every color there is.”
“No rest for the wicked!” said Winona cheerfully, sitting up and abandoning her book. “You don’t mean you’re going to try to get this done for to-night?”
“I certainly am,” said Louise doggedly.
“All right.” And Winona, pulled up a little table between them. “Here—this is the way.”
The two girls bent over the little loom, their heads close together. Tom, meanwhile, finished cleaning his gun, wrapped it carefully in oiled red flannel, and looked around for more worlds to conquer.
The first thing his eyes lighted on was the paper novel Winona had reluctantly laid down—the one Nataly had loaned her.
“For the love of Mike, where did you get this?”
“Your friend’s sister, next door,” said Winona mischievously. “Don’t you like her taste in books?”