The rational policy recommended by Uncle George was carefully pursued. Everything was done to attract William to their mode of life, but no remark was made when he gave a preference to Indian customs. Still, he seemed moody, and at times sad. He carried within him a divided heart. One day, when he was sitting on a log, looking absent and dejected, his father put his hand gently upon his shoulder, and said,—
"Are you not happy among us, my son? Don't you like us?"
"Me like very much," was the reply. "Me glad find father, brother. All good."
He paused a moment, and then added,—
"A-lee-lah's father, mother be dead. A-lee-lah alone. A-lee-lah did say not go. Me promise come back soon."
Mr. Wharton was silent. He was thinking what it was best to say. After waiting a little, William said,—
"Father, me not remember what is English for squaw."
"Woman," replied Mr. Wharton.
"Not that," rejoined the young man. "What call Charles's squaw?"
"His wife," was the reply.