"You wah-wah?"

"Yes," said Mr. Mann, doubtful of the Indian's thought.

"She wah-wah?"

"Yes."

"You heap wah-wah. You good. She heap wah-wah. She no good. Potlatch come;
dance. She wah-wah no more. I wah-wah."

Mr. Mann was pained to see the revengeful trend of the Indian's thought.
The hints of the evil intention of the Potlatch troubled him, but his
faith in the old chief and the influence of his own integrity did not
falter.

Gretchen was the most advanced scholar in the school. Her real mother had
been an accomplished woman, and had taken great pains with her education.
She was well instructed in the English branches, and had read five books
of Virgil in Latin. Her reading had not been extensive, but it had
embraced some of the best books in the English language. Her musical
education had been received from a German uncle, who had been instructed
by Herr Wieck, the father of Clara Schumann. He had been a great lover of
Schumann's dreamy and spiritual music, and had taught her the young
composer's pieces for children, and among them Romance and the Traumerei.
He had taught her to play the two tone poems together in changing keys,
beginning with the Traumerei and returning again to its beautiful and
haunting strains. Gretchen interpreted these poems with all the color of
true feeling, and under her bow they became enchantment to a musical ear
and a delight to even as unmusical a soul as Mrs. Woods.