merry laugh. She ran hastily out to see what had come over her.

Mrs. Wyman was in the pantry, holding a corner of her apron over her
mouth, as if to smother her amusement.

There sat the six Indians on the floor, with hats drawn down surlily
over their faces, and with blankets shrugged about their shoulders.
"Mother, what is it?" was Lilian's whispered inquiry.

Mrs. Wyman pointed silently at the ludicrous row of savages, and covered
her lips again with her apron.

Lilian could not help laughing, too.

"New Year's callers, after all," she said, to herself.

Mrs. Wyman had made the circle of waiting braves move somewhat away from
the stove, so that she could cook ham and warm potatoes. Lilian returned
to her table-setting. She placed a spoon-holder on the cloth, full of
bright tea-spoons.

The inquisitive chief gave a genuine whoop of delight at sight of them.
He sprang to her side and openly began putting them in his pocket.

This was too much. Lilian flew at him and tried to snatch them away from
him. He scowled fiercely, and jabbered at her in excited gutturals.

At once she heard a great scuffling of feet in the kitchen. The other
Indians, attracted by the sound, were coming to his rescue.