Joan now busied herself about the mid-day meal, for which her mother had made the principal preparation before setting out.  She said nothing about the tragedy of the morning when her father came in, partly because she felt that nobody could appreciate the depth of her grief but mother, and because she had made up her mind not to complain of Tilderee,—­a conclusion which she secretly felt entitled her to rank as a heroine.  But Tilderee related the occurrence herself as soon as her mother returned.

“Fudge and me broke Joan’s beauty doll.  We didn’t mean to, and we’re awful sorry,—­honest and true we are!”

“But that will not mend Angelina,” said Mrs. Prentiss, gravely.

Tilderee hung her head.  She now realized for the first time, that no matter how grieved we are, we can not always repair the wrong we have done.  The mother, though a plain, uneducated woman, had plenty of good sense, and did her best to train her children well.  She now talked very seriously to her little daughter, and Tilderee promised to be less meddlesome and more obedient in the future.

“Fudge and me wants to be good,” she said, penitently; “but we forgets.  P’rhaps if we were other folks, and our names were something else ’sides Tilderee and Fudge, we might be better.”

“I’m afraid Fudge is a hard case,” sighed her mother, restraining a smile; “and I should not like to see my little girl changed into any one else.  But I expect we ought to call you as you were christened, and that is Matilda.  It is a saint’s name, you know; and you can pray to your name saint to help you.”

The little lass was delighted to have the question settled in this manner, and from that time strove to insist upon her proper title.  But it was not easy to drop the pet name, and Tilderee she was oftenest called, till long after the date of this story.  For several days she tried very hard to be good; she said her prayers night and morning with special earnestness, always closing with:  “Please, God, take care of Tilderee, and keep her and Fudge out of mischief.”

Joan, on her part, endeavored to be more gentle with her little sister; for, while every day she lamented the fate of the doll, she could not think of it without feeling a trifle uncomfortable about the way she had spoken to Tilderee.

The two little girls were not allowed to go beyond the enclosure which surrounded the house, unless accompanied by their father or mother.  The few Indians in the vicinity had hitherto been peaceable and friendly; but it was considered well to be cautious, and the country was too sparsely settled to render it safe for one to wander about alone.  When Mrs. Prentiss, mounted on the old grey horse, rode to the Fort to sell her butter and eggs, Peter went with her on Twinkling Hoofs; and each took the precaution to carry a pistol for self-defence in case of attack.