ost-office that afternoon to mail
the shoes back to the store in the far-away city, together with a
drawing on paper of the little girl's left foot, showing just how large
the new pair should be. The very same day the little girl's mother began
to rip out tucks.

When the chaplain stopped on his return trip, he found that the
christening was still agitating the farm-house, the big brothers having
formed a triple alliance in favor of Elizabeth, while the little girl's
mother was adhering more warmly than ever to Victoria. So he spent the
evening in renewed argument and prayer, and offered Catherine as a
compromise. But the little girl's mother attached no importance to his
suggestion, knowing that Catherine was the name of his wife.

Before starting for the reservation in the morning, as he sat upon his
pony with the family in a circle about him, he communicated a notable
piece of news. Some time during June of the coming year the good bishop,
who was greatly beloved by the Indians, would visit the post to marry
the general's daughter to the major. The wedding would take place in the
sod church, and would be followed by a sermon.

"And then," added the chaplain, "could come the baptism."

The little girl's mother was delighted with the idea, and decided on the
spot to delay the baptism until June. The administering of the rite by
the good bishop would give it a certain pomp, while his presence would
insure the attendance of every woman on the plains, and the robe and the
shoes would receive due parade and admiration.

The chaplain, satisfied at having accomplished even so little for peace,
cantered off, the family looking after him. But when he reached the
reservation road he came to a sudden halt, wheeled sharply, and raised
his hands to his face to make a funnel of them. All fell into silence
and listened for his parting admonition.

"Make it Catherine!" he shouted, and cantered on.

When the little girl's mother thought of the months that must pass
before the baptism, she felt sorry that she had been so hasty about
sending for the second pair of kid shoes; for by June of the coming year
the little girl's feet would be too big for them. So the youngest
brother was again sent to the post-office, this time with a letter that
asked the store in a far-away city to send two sizes larger than the
drawing.

While summer was fading into autumn, and autumn was merging into winter
again, the naming of the little girl wa