“That explains it,” said the white mother.  “Perhaps it was unwise to let Cordelia have the red cashmere for the little dress, but she is paying for it by contributing a portion of her hard-earned money to the missionary fund.  Her patience with the baby, who was very fretful, was quite wonderful.  She cheerfully devoted all her playtime for a month to baby, while I gave attention to the little children, and I thought it but a just reward to let her have the little dress, especially as it was in her mission box.  Her father had not brought the blue dress then, But dear me!  She has added brown shoes and stockings, which I didn’t in the least expect.”

The children in their bedtime talk had told the white mother of Cordelia Running Bird’s purchase at the store, and later in the evening the second teacher had informed her of the barter of the Indian doll.

“The brown shoes and stockings must be laid to my account.  Whatever can be done?” exclaimed the school-teacher, in dismay.

“Nothing,” said the white mother, firmly.  “I wish Cordelia was less extravagant, and we will be careful to restrain her after this.  But Indian girls must learn as well as white girls to respect the right of property.  The girls have been allowed much freedom in the spending of what money they could call their own, but it has mostly gone for hair ribbons and candy, and there has been no trouble before.  I hope the feeling will subside, however, in a day or two.  So many Christmas pleasures are in prospect that the girls will surely have no room for strife and envy in their hearts.”

Here the teachers hastened to the mission building to discharge the duties that devolved upon them after Sunday-school.

Just before sun\et Monday afternoon a flock of girls were gathered at the stile in front, watching with intensity a solitary little figure moving slowly on a far side of the pasture, near the barbed wire fence.

“Again there walks Cordelia Running Bird very far away,” said Hannah Straight Tree.  “She has walked alone two afternoons.  She must be thinking very hard.”

“She is going on the mourner’s walk,” observed the girl who kept the playroom.  “When an Indian walks alone, so far and very slow, that means they are too sad.  She cannot be happy, for the large girls—­only me—­and the middle-sized girls do not talk to her.  Then, too, of course, she thinks of Annie.  It was just one year ago this Monday that they took her to the agency.  The large girls did not wash, because there was a funeral.”

“And Cordelia Running Bird was so proud because the girls all cried,” said Hannah.  “Now I wish we had not cried.”

“Kee!  You must not be so mean as that,” exclaimed the largest girl, in shocked surprise.  “Of course we cried for Annie.  She was very kind to everyone—­not cross like us.”

“She was a very little cross, sometimes, because she was an Indian.  She tried much harder than Cordelia Running Bird.”