“And some day I’ll do something myself that will make me worthy to be called Torch Bearer,” she resolved as she reached under the pillow for a dry handkerchief.
* * * * *
Sahwah stood before the portrait of Elizabeth Carver in the long drawing room, paying her fare-well visit. The suitcases of the departing Winnebagos were piled on the porch outside, waiting for the moment of departure. The great air of respect and deference, tinged with envy, that Sahwah had heretofore worn when she addressed Elizabeth Carver had given way to an air of conscious equality.
“Elizabeth,” said Sahwah solemnly, “I’ve had a romantic adventure, too. We’re twins now, you and I. I don’t believe I’d care to go back and change places with you after all; a modern girl has so much more chance for adventure! Life is very interesting, Elizabeth, and I’m so thankful to have been a part of things that were happening.”
Her mind went back over all the events that had taken place since the first time she had stood in the long drawing room at Carver House and looked up at the picture of Elizabeth Carver.
“Hasn’t it been a summer, though!” she said with a reminiscent sigh. “What do you suppose will happen next?”
And Elizabeth Carver, looking down from her frame, smiled knowingly.