“If she hasn’t she’ll need something besides a change of climate, I assure you,” laughed Ruth again.  “She hates ocean voyaging, does Jennie; but she wouldn’t wait till she could go in an ox-cart to get back to France if Henri forgot to write.”

There was one thing sure:  Jennie Stone was a delighted host when Helen arrived in New York a few days ahead of Ruth and Wonota.  Ruth had not intended to go to the Stones; she would have felt more independent at a hotel.  She did not know what engagements Mr. Hammond or the director of the picture might make for her.  So she tried to dodge Jennie’s invitation.

When the train got in from New England, however, and Ruth and the Indian girl, following a red-capped porter with their bags, walked through the gateway of entrance to the concourse of the Grand Central Terminal, there were both Jennie and Helen waiting to spy them.

“Mr. Hammond told me to come to the Borneaux.  He has made reservations there,” Ruth said.

“That’s all right for to-morrow,” declared Jennie bruskly.  “Hotel rooms are all right to make up in, or anything like that.  But you are both going to my house for to-night”

“Now, Jennie—­”

“No buts or ands about it!” exclaimed her friend.  “If you don’t come, Ruthie Fielding, I’ll never speak to you again.  And if Wonota doesn’t come I declare I’ll tell Dakota Joe where she is, and he’ll come after her and steal her.  In fact,” Jennie added, wickedly smiling, “his old Wild West Show is playing right here in the Big Town this week.”

“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Ruth, while the Indian girl shrank a little closer to her friend.

“Sure do.  In Brooklyn.  A three-day stand in one of the big armories over there, I believe.  So a telephone call—­”

“Shucks!” exclaimed Helen.  “Don’t you believe her, Wonota.  Just the same you folks had better come to the Stone house.  Mr. Stone has taken a whole box to-night for one of the very best musical shows that ever was!”

Ruth could see that the Indian girl was eager to agree.  She did show some small emotions which paleface girls displayed.  She laughed more than at first, too.  But she was often downright gloomy when thinking of Chief Totantora.

However, seeing Wonota wished to accept the invitation, and desiring herself to please Helen and Jennie, Ruth agreed.  They telephoned a message to the Hotel Borneaux and then went off to dinner at the Stone house.  It was a very nice party indeed, and even busy Mr. Stone did his best to put Wonota at her ease.

“Some wigwam this, isn’t it, Wonata?” said Helen, smiling, as the girls went upstairs after dinner to prepare for the theatre.

“The Osage nation does not live in wigwams, Miss Cameron,” said Wonota quietly.  “We are not blanket Indians and have not been for two generations.”

“Well, look at the clothes you wore in that show!” cried Jennie.  “That head-dress looked wild enough, I must say—­and those fringed leggings and all that.”