ad awakened very early that morning, and the minute she opened
her eyes she thought, "This is the day before Christ's day. To-night,
'bout sundown, Major Molly'll keep her promise." All through the day
this happy thought was uppermost. In the afternoon she followed Major
Molly's instructions, and hung pine wreaths about the cabin.

The short afternoon sped on, and sundown came, and the gray dusk, and
then the stars came out.

"Where's your Major Molly now?" asked the mother. There was a sharp
accent in the Indian woman's voice, and a bitter expression on her face.
But it was not for Wallula; it was for the white girl,--the Major Molly
who, in breaking her promise to Wallula, had brought suffering upon her;
for on Wallula's face the mother could see by this time the shadow of
disappointment gathering. It made her think of Metalka. Metalka had gone
amongst the white people. She had come back full of belief in them, and
it was the white people's white traders with their lies and their broken
promises that had hurt Metalka to death. There was only little Wallula
left now. Was it going the same way with Wallula? These were some of
the Indian mother's bitter resentful thoughts as she watched Wallula's
face.

Wallula found it very hard to bear this watchfulness. She felt as if her
mother were glad that her prophecy had proved true, that the white girl
had broken her promise; but Wallula was wrong. Her mother's bitterness
and resentment were the outcome of her anxiety. She would have given
anything, have done anything, to have saved Wallula this suffering. If
something would only happen to rouse Wallula, she thought, as she
watched her. There had come a visitor to their cabin the other day,--the
chief of a neighboring tribe. When he saw Wallula, he said he would come
again and bring his little daughter. If he would only come soon! If he
would only--But, hark! what was that? Was it an answer to her wish,--her
prayer? Was he coming now--_now_? And, jumping to her feet, the woman
ran to the door and flung it open. Yes, yes, it was in answer to her
prayer; for there, over the turf, she could see a horse speeding towards
her. It was coming at breakneck speed. "Wallula! Wallula!" she turned
and called. An echo seemed to repeat, "Lula, Lula!" At that echo
Wallula leaped up, and sped past her mother with the fleetness of a
fawn, calling as she did so, "I'm coming, coming!" In the next instant
the wondering woman saw her child running