iew, I could only take refuge behind what I
had heard and seen in camp, and declare, "I know it is not true; they
were good people, and loved their babies, and were sorry for
everybody."

How could I believe his cruel words? While I had come from the
mountains remembering most clearly the sufferings from cold, hunger,
thirst, and pitiful surroundings, I had also brought from there a
child's mental picture of tenderest sympathies and bravest
self-denials, evinced by the snow-bound in my father's camp, and of
Mrs. Murphy's earnest effort to soothe and care for us three little
sisters after we had been deserted at the lake cabins by Cady and
Stone; also her motherly watchfulness over Jimmie Eddy, Georgia
Foster, and her own son Simon, and of Mr. Eddy's constant solicitude
for our safety on the journey over the mountains to Sutter's Fort.
Vain, however, my efforts to speak in behalf of either the dead or the
absent; every attempt was met by the ready assertion, "You can't prove
anything; you were not old enough to remember or understand what
happened."

Oh, how I longed to be grown, to have opportunities to talk with those
of the party who were considered old enough to remember facts, and
would answer the questions I wanted to ask; and how firmly I resolved
that when I grew to be a woman I would tell the story of my party so
clearly that no one could doubt its truth!

CHAPTER XXVI

THANK OFFERINGS--MISS DOTY'S SCHOOL--THE BOND OF KINDRED--IN JACKET AND
TROUSERS--CHUM CHARLIE.

Grandma had a fixed price for table board, but would not take pay for
medicines, nor for attendance on the sick; consequently, many of her
patients, after reaching San Francisco, sent thank offerings of
articles useful and pleasing to her. Thus, also, Sister Georgia and I
came into possession of pretty calico, Swiss, and delaine dresses, and
shoes that filled our hearts with pride, for they were of Morocco
leather, a red and a green pair for each. We had seen finely dressed
Spanish children wear such shoes, but never supposed that we should be
so favored.

After the first dresses were finished, there came a Sunday when I was
allowed to go to the Mission Church with Kitty Purcell, the baker's
little daughter, and I felt wonderfully fine in my pink calico frock,
flecked with a bird's-eye of white, a sun-bonnet to match, and green
shoes.

The brilliantly lighted altar, decked with flowers, the priests in
gorgeous vestments, the acolyte