serted. "As she is really Mollie's discovery, not mine, Mollie
must tell you about her."

Mollie was embarrassed at suddenly finding herself the center of so many
eyes.

Mr. Winthrop Latham had turned around, and was also watching her. He had
caught Ruth's last speech.

"Why," confessed Mollie, "the story of our little Indian girl is simple
enough, but it is very strange."

The little girl paused. Reginald Latham's eyes were fixed on her in a
strange gaze; but she had started to tell her tale and must go on. Mollie
looked over at Aunt Sallie, and the latter nodded her approval.

Quietly Mollie told of her wood nymph first leading her astray on the
mountain; of Eunice's visit to her, next day, and of Bab's accidental
shooting of the child afterwards.

"I don't think our discovery of the little Indian girl was so odd," said
Mollie. "What I think is strange is that no one around here ever knew of
her before. Just think, Eunice is thirteen or fourteen years old and she
has been kept hidden in these hills by her old Indian grandmother all her
life. She had never been to a town until she was taken to the hospital by
our guide, Naki. Yet she is so pretty and gentle. I love her already."
The little girl had a queer feeling as if she were defending Eunice--she
did not know why.

A voice broke into the conversation. "You say, my dear"--Mr. Latham spoke
sternly--"that you and your friends have found an old Indian woman and a
child called Eunice hidden in the woods back of you? The thing is
impossible. The old woman and the girl are probably gypsies or tramps.
They cannot be Indians. I have reason to know the history of the Indians
in this part of the country very well. My eldest brother married an
Indian girl. She was the last of her people in this vicinity, and she
died about fifteen years ago."

Mollie did not answer. A sudden silence fell upon the little group.

Barbara looked at Reginald. She understood, now, why he was often afraid
of his uncle. The older man would not endure contradiction.

"Reginald, we must say good-bye to Miss Stuart," his uncle commanded.

"Don't go just yet, Mr. Latham," pleaded Gwendolin Morton. "You promised
to help me explain to Miss Stuart the plan for our day of sports. You
see, Miss Stuart, every season at Lenox we have an annual entertainment
for the benefit of our hospital fund. This year father is to take charge
of the sports, which we try to make just as informal and jolly as
poss