"O, Miss DeWolf, there's a squaw here that wants to see you," said Sorrel Top, bursting suddenly into the room.
"O, she's begging, no doubt. Give her what she wants, Sorrel Top, I'm engaged just now," and Little Wolf went on with her music.
"There, I told you so. I knowed Miss DeWolf wouldn't have nothing to do with squaws, or injins, nor nothing else that's low," exclaimed Sorrel Top, loud enough to be heard by her young mistress, who always made it a point to do the very thing it was expected she would not do.
The dumpy little copper-colored creature, enveloped in an Indian blanket, before whom Sorrel Top had drawn herself up with a triumphant toss of the head, was just making a second plea, when Little Wolf made her appearance.
"I want to hear music, do tell the lady I want to hear music," she said in very good English.
"O, if that's what you want, come this way," said Little Wolf, leading on to the parlor.
The Indian followed, pattering along in her soft moccasins, leaving Sorrel Top quite crest fallen.
"Now here is where the music comes from," said Little Wolf, placing her hand upon the instrument, and following her piece of information with a lively air.
"Now, how do you like that?"
"It is very pretty; may I try to make music?"