et's dip our wheatless crusts into our meatless broth for the
eternal glory and prosperity of the Winnebagos!"

CHAPTER IV

VERONICA

Dinner over, the Winnebagos fell upon the dishes like a swarm of bees
and had them cleared up and washed in a twinkling. Then they gathered in
the long parlor where the harp stood, and to please them Nyoda turned
off the electric lights and lit the candles in their old-fashioned
holders. The little twinkling lights multiplied themselves in the
mirrors until it seemed as if there were myriads of them; grotesque
six-fold shadows danced on the walls as the girls moved about; the
gilded harp gleamed softly in the mellow light and an atmosphere of
by-gone days hovered over the room. It was an ideal moment for
confidences, for heart-to-heart talks, and they spoke of many things
which were sacred to one another, little intimate echoes of the days
when they first learned to work and play together.

"Don't you remember, Veronica," said Migwan, "when you became a
Winnebago you took the gull for your symbol, because it flew over the
ocean and you wanted to follow it home?"

A memory of that day came back to the girls, of Veronica's bitter
homesickness, and how desperately sorry they had been for her, and yet
how helpless they had felt before her aristocratic mien. There was a
great difference in her now, all the more noticeable because they had
not seen her for a year. She was thinner and her eyes were larger and
more pansylike than ever, but she was much more talkative and animated
than she used to be. Very little of the old superior bearing remained,
and the looks that she bent upon Nyoda were those of an humble and
adoring slave. Proof positive of the change that had taken place in her
was the prank she had played upon them that night in masquerading as the
cook--she who had once refused to help prepare one of the famous suppers
in the House of the Open Door, disdainfully remarking that cooking was
work for servants, not for ladies.

At Migwan's remark Veronica stirred restlessly and made an emphatic
gesture with her hand as she replied firmly, "That was all nonsense. I
gave up the gull as a symbol long ago. It had such a screaming, ugly cry
instead of a song. If I am to be one of the Song Friends I must have a
song bird for a symbol. I have changed to the red winged blackbird,
because that was the first American bird I learned to know by his song,
outside of the robin. His voice a