“I’ve got two—that’s the big one waiting for me outside—his name’s Sir Walter Scott, but we call him Scotty for short. Here, Scotty, old fellow!” And as the gaunt hound rushed upon them both, nearly knocking them down in his eagerness, she threw her arms around his homely neck and hugged him with an unaffected ardor that quite warmed the new girl’s heart.
“Let’s walk slowly and get behind; can we?” she whispered, shyly. “They do look at us so!” In fact, there was unwonted lingering that day, and much open whispering, which the three pretended to ignore. Doris had waited, as usual, and joined them at the door.
“Of course we can; nobody has dinner till half past twelve, and it’s only five minutes’ walk to your house,” she assented, pleasantly, while Cynthia bluntly remarked:
“They’re awfully disappointed, you know, because you didn’t wear your Indian suit to-day—a blanket and feathers in your hair. Why, you look almost exactly like anybody else, in that nice, brown linen.”
“Indian girls don’t wear feathers; only the men do that,” smiled the new girl, who much preferred to “look like anybody else,” and found personalities a bit embarrassing. Still, she was feeling a good deal better in the company of her new-found friends.
“Then do they all wear pretty blouses and stylish hats?” Sin unblushingly inquired.
“Well, there aren’t many of the old-style dresses left among the Sioux—my people. Why, a blanket robe trimmed with real elks’ teeth, or one of beaded doeskin, is worth a hundred dollars! Besides, nearly all the girls go to school nowadays, and wear dresses and hats like mine,—only not quite so pretty, perhaps, because my dear mother made these and she has such good taste,” ended Stella, loyally and lovingly.
“Mrs. Waring is perfectly lovely, I think,” began Doris, tactfully, but suddenly broke off with a little cry of dismay.
“Oh, Sin! whose dog is that? Hadn’t you better get the chain on Scotty?”
Alas, the warning came too late! The strange dog had already offered some nameless canine impertinence to Sir Walter, whose temper was none of the most patient. Instantly he hurled himself upon the new-comer, and the fight was on.
The three girls had purposely loitered, and the quiet street was almost deserted. It was the universal dinner hour, and boys and girls were rapidly disappearing down various side streets, urged homewards by the double spur of sharp young appetites and savory odors of “mother’s cooking.”