He went into the sitting-room. He spied the china closet door and opened it.
"Ugh!" he said, as if in delight at the pretty dishes. He waved his hand at Lilian and pointed to the rosebud china, making an imperative gesture, as if to say, "We want to eat off those."
Lilian, anxious to seem to want to please these terrible visitors, nodded and smiled a ghastly smile. The very fact that she must do something seemed to relieve the spell of cold horror that had settled on her.
She took a fresh cloth from a drawer, and spread it deftly on the table. As she straightened the corners daintily, to see if they were quite even, the Indian grumbled his approval.
She took out the dishes and set seven places. She recalled, with a great thump of her heart, what Jack had said about scalping, but as yet there had been no warlike demonstrations.
She began to be more at ease. But what was that uneasy chief doing? He was prying into everything. Lilian distinctly saw him put her scissors into his pocket. But she dared not protest.
While thus distracted, she heard her mother in the kitchen burst into a merry laugh. She ran hastily out to see what had come over her.
Mrs. Wyman was in the pantry, holding a corner of her apron over her mouth, as if to smother her amusement.
There sat the six Indians on the floor, with hats drawn down surlily over their faces, and with blankets shrugged about their shoulders. "Mother, what is it?" was Lilian's whispered inquiry.
Mrs. Wyman pointed silently at the ludicrous row of savages, and covered her lips again with her apron.