"Well, what?"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
"What for? What am I doing, I'd like to know?" and Lavinia looked out from between the hands that framed her face with an expression of anger, annoyance, and surprise.
Gussie Turner laughed, took off her hat, brushed up her bangs—for it was a warm afternoon—and sat down on the porch beside Vinnie Dean, imitating her very attitude. Lavinia frowned, for she disliked being made fun of; but Gussie was such a jolly girl that it was impossible for any one to be provoked at her for any length of time.
"What's the matter?" asked Gussie. "Why do you sit like a squaw, with your elbows on your knees, and your chin on your hands? Is there trouble on the war-path?"
"No," was the snappish response.
"My!" exclaimed Gussie. "I had no idea you could be so savage. May I inquire to which tribe you belong?"
"I don't belong to any tribe. Do stop your nonsense."
"Don't belong to any tribe? Then why have you put on the war-paint and feathers? Ah, I have it! Eureka! Alabama! The white man has entered your camp and stolen your humpty-dumpty little pappoose. Come, let us prepare for revenge;" and Gussie slipped her arm tenderly round Vinnie's waist. "I ain't much of a fighter myself, but I have a brother who thinks he is equal to a whole tribe of Indians, and if there are any scalps to be taken, we'll send for Tad Turner."