come running to my mother's cabin to give her warning. I did not
appreciate his kindly interest, for there was an unrest gnawing at my
heart.

As soon as he went away, I asked Dawée about something else.

"No, my baby sister, I cannot take you with me to the party tonight," he
replied. Though I was not far from fifteen, and I felt that before long
I should enjoy all the privileges of my tall cousin, Dawée persisted in
calling me his baby sister.

That moonlight night, I cried in my mother's presence when I heard the
jolly young people pass by our cottage. They were no more young braves
in blankets and eagle plumes, nor Indian maids with prettily painted
cheeks. They had gone three years to school in the East, and had become
civilized. The young men wore the white man's coat and trousers, with
bright neckties. The girls wore tight muslin dresses, with ribbons at
neck and waist. At these gatherings they talked English. I could speak
English almost as well as my brother, but I was not properly dressed to
be taken along. I had no hat, no ribbons, and no close-fitting gown.
Since my return from school I had thrown away my shoes, and wore again
the soft moccasins.

While Dawée was busily preparing to go I controlled my tears. But when I
heard him bounding away on his pony, I buried my face in my arms and
cried hot tears.

My mother was troubled by my unhappiness. Coming to my side, she offered
me the only printed matter we had in our home. It was an Indian Bible,
given her some years ago by a missionary. She tried to console me.