banging of doors,
Bab observed, in the young-ladyish tone she was apt to use when she
composed her active little mind and body to the feminine task of
needlework,--

"We used to make bows of whalebone when we were little girls, but we are
too old to play so now."

"I'd like to, but Bab won't, 'cause she 's most 'leven years old," said
honest Betty, placidly rubbing her needle in the "ruster," as she called
the family emery-bag.

"Grown people enjoy archery, as bow and arrow shooting is called,
especially in England. I was reading about it the other day, and saw a
picture of Queen Victoria with her bow; so you needn't be ashamed of it,
Bab," said Miss Celia, rummaging among the books and papers in her sofa
corner to find the magazine she wanted, thinking a new play would be as
good for the girls as for the big boys.

"A queen, just think!" and Betty looked much impressed by the fact, as
well as uplifted by the knowledge that her friend did not agree in
thinking her silly because she preferred playing with a harmless
home-made toy to firing stones or snapping a pop-gun.

"In old times, bows and arrows were used to fight great battles with;
and we read how the English archers shot so well that the air was dark
with arrows, and many men were killed."

"So did the Indians have 'em; and I've got some stone arrow-heads,--found
'em by the river, in the dirt!" cried Bab, waking up, for battles
interested her more than queens.

"While you finish your stints I'll tell you a little story about the
Indians," said Miss Celia, lying back on her cushions, while the needles
began to go again, for the prospect of a story could not be resisted.

"A century or more ago, in a small settlement on the banks of the
Connecticut,--which means the Long River of Pines,--there lived a
little girl called Matty Kilburn. On a hill stood the fort where the
people ran for protection in any danger, for the country was new and
wild, and more than once the Indians had come down the river in their
canoes and burned the houses, killed men, and carried away women and
children. Matty lived alone with her father, but felt quite safe in the
log house, for he was never far away. One afternoon, as the farmers were
all busy in their fields, the bell rang suddenly,--a sign that there
was danger near,--and, dropping their rakes or axes, the men hurried
to their houses to save wives and babies, and such few treasures as they
could. Mr. Kilburn caught up his