ration and delight filled the air as the Winnebagos
entered. The whole house was furnished just as it might have been in the
old Colonial days--braided rugs on the floor, candlesticks in glass
holders, slender-legged, spindle-backed chairs, quaint mahogany tables,
a huge spinning wheel before the fireplace, and, wonder of wonders!
between the two end windows of the stately parlor there stood a harp,
the late sunshine gleaming in a soft radiance from its gilded frame and
slender wires like the glory of a by-gone day. Hinpoha stood enraptured
before the instrument.

"I've always been wild to learn to play on a harp," she said, drawing
her fingers caressingly over the strings and awaking faint, throbbing
tones, too soft to be discords, that echoed through the room like the
ghost of a song played years ago, and trembled away until they seemed to
mingle with the golden light that flooded the room through the west
windows.

"If I had my choice of being any of the fabulous creatures in the
mythology book," said Hinpoha musingly, "I think I'd choose to be a
harpy."

"A what?" asked Nyoda quizzically.

"A harpy," repeated Hinpoha, touching the strings again. Then, looking
up and seeing the twinkle in Nyoda's eye, she added, "Weren't the
Harpies beautiful maidens that sat on the rocks and played harps and
lured the sailors to destruction with their ravishing songs? Oh, I say,
they were too," she finished feebly, amid a perfect shout of laughter
from the girls. "Well, what _were_ they, then? Horrible monsters? Oh,
what a shame! What a misleading thing the English language is, anyway!
You'd naturally expect a harpy to play on a harp. Anyway, you needn't
laugh, Sahwah. I remember once you said in class that a peptonoid was a
person with a lot of pep, so there!"

Sahwah joined gaily in the laugh that followed at her expense. "So I
did," she admitted unblushingly, "and what's more, I only discovered day
before yesterday that a trapezoid wasn't a trapeze performer!"

"Oh, Sahwah, you imp, you're making that up," said Gladys in a skeptical
tone.

"Nice child," said Nyoda, patting Sahwah approvingly, trying to turn the
laugh upon herself, on the principle that the hostess should always
break another cut glass tumbler when the guest breaks one."

"Oh dear," said Migwan regretfully, "why did you say that about Harpies,
Hinpoha, and make us laugh? I was just thinking how beautiful you
looked, leaning over that harp, just like that