"Yes, that was lots of fun," said Walter. "But that wasn't anything to what this will be. Fancy, mother, an Indian village—a real Indian one. And you can live in their houses if you want to—though Aunt Mary says she doesn't believe they are very clean."
"We would have our tents," said Nellie. "Dr. Madden says he thinks the water would do you a great deal of good, mother."
"I feel better already," said the mother, sitting up and smoothing back her hair. "I want to start at once."
They all laughed, and presently the children were seated beside her, each holding a hand, wondering when everything would be in readiness for the start.
"We don't have to get any new clothes, do we?" inquired Nellie, to whom the bugbear of a summer outfit was receding into the background.
"No; we shall wear our oldest things," replied the mother. "Still, we shall not aim to make scarecrows of ourselves, my dear, as some people really seem to do when they go camping."
The children laughed again. "As though you could make a scarecrow of yourself!" exclaimed Nellie, looking fondly at her fair, delicate mother in her dainty white wrapper, and shoulder shawl of soft, scarlet wool.
"But suppose they would put the Indians out while we are there; then what would we do, mother?" asked Nellie. "I couldn't bear to be near and see it," said the tender-hearted child. "I think it's dreadful, don't you, mother?"
"Yes, it is," rejoined her mother. "Yet it does not seem possible to avoid it."
"Tell us about it, mother, will you?" pleaded Walter. "There has been much fuss over it in the papers. Why do the Indians have to go away from this place where they have lived so long?"