“P. S. By the way, Ethan has grown ever so much handsomer since you saw him last. He looks years older and—and—oh, you know what I mean!
“N. B. Jibby, the minute you get this letter I want you to sit right down and tell me just what you are doing, and answer every single question, or I’ll never forgive you.
“MY DEAREST CYNTHIA: About half an hour ago, a girl you used to know was looking out of the window of her little prairie home. Such a funny little home, just one big room all shining yellow pine, with skins and rag rugs on the bare pine floor, a closet curtained off with dark blue calico, a black iron bed and a wash-stand and a trunk and some book-shelves built out of packing-boxes. Oh, and a lot of Indian bead-work on the walls, and a pine table covered with a Navaho blanket, and on it some old school-books and papers and pens and ink; and right over it a class picture in a frame—the class of 19—— at Laurel academy!
“The girl, as I said before, was looking out of the window; just watching the green creep over the prairie like an emerald fire kindled by the sun, and following the white road with her eyes as far as she could—the road that leads to the agency and the railroad and civilization.
“While she looked, a black speck appeared away out on that road. The speck grew bigger; soon it turned into a lumber wagon drawn by two shaggy ponies and driven by a tall, dark man in the navy-blue uniform of the Indian Police, with a shining shield on his breast that flashed in the sun.
“In a few minutes she heard the rattle of wheels, and then the camp dogs ran out to meet the good policeman with welcoming barks, and the girl left her window and went to the door that opened on the green prairie. For there are two doors in the yellow pine house; the other one leads right into a log kitchen where a tin coffee pot stood on the stove and an old woman squatted close by, tending a dear little baby, while the baby’s mother, in a red dress made like a kimono, was piecing a calico quilt.
“Well, the policeman pulled up his rough little ponies right in front of the door, threw down the lines and began handing out beef and flour and other things, which the woman in the red kimono carried into the house. Then, last of all, he put his hand in his breast pocket, took out two letters and gave them to the girl. After that, he saluted and drove away again.