stocratic army benches, her cheeks
were flushed a vivid pink, and she was sitting proudly erect.

Then she beheld the chaplain standing at the step in a long, white
dress. Scarcely had she gotten over her surprise at his strange
appearance, when she saw a man join him who was garbed even more
wonderfully. His dark hair was combed back and rested, like Eagle Eye's,
on his shoulders, and the sleeves of his robe were wide and ruffled at
the wrist. It was the good bishop.

The next moment they were standing before him, the little girl and the
biggest brother at the middle of the line and the others on each side.

The chaplain raised his hand, and the white people stood up. And after
he had waved both arms commandingly and scowled, the Indians and the
half-breeds got up, too, and slouched against the benches while the good
bishop said a long prayer and followed it with a longer reading. The
biggest brother waited very quietly through it all, but he shifted the
little girl from one arm to the other two or three times.

When the reading was over, the little girl's mother answered a few
questions in a low voice. As the good bishop began to pray again, the
chaplain lifted a silver vessel in his hands and held it up solemnly.
The little girl saw that it was the colonel's fruit-dish, and that it
was full of water.

She looked about inquiringly, but all who were near her had their heads
bent; and at the close of the prayer, before she had time to question,
the good bishop took her into his arms.

She was frightened and wriggled to get down, not seeing the warning in
her mother's eyes. The good bishop paid no attention to her, however,
but leaned forward and spoke to the colonel and his wife.

"Name this child," he said.

The little girl did not hear their answer, for she was watching his
hand. It was poised just above the fruit-dish, as if he meant to plunge
it into the water.

She caught her breath and raised herself suddenly in his arms. The whole
church was bending and stretching to see her, but she forgot the staring
people, and was thinking only of her beautiful robe, the kid shoes, and
the threatening water.

A brief, solemn silence pervaded the waiting church. It was broken by
the good bishop's voice; and, at the same time, his ruffled hand sank
into the fruit-dish, held lightly between the chaplain's finger-tips,
and came to the surface wet and brimming. As she saw this, the little
girl's face turned from pink t