just to look
at you; an', for once, I'll 'low Abel was right in wantin' to move out
here. I'm lookin' for him 'fore night, by the way. But hold on! Who's
that out in the back yard, with feathers in his hair, an' a blue check
shirt, grinnin' like a hyena, an' a knife stickin' out his pocket?
Wait till I get hold of him, my sake!"

Mercy's words poured out without breathing-space or stop, and the Sun
Maid laughed as she replied:

"Why, that's only Osceolo. Do you know him?"

"Kitty Briscoe! All the wild horses in Illinois can't make me believe
no different but 'twas him set our barn afire!"

"When? He's not been away--for some days."

"Wait till he catches sight of me!"

But when the young Indian did turn around, and saw the pair watching
him, he coolly walked toward them, regarding Mercy as if she were an
utter stranger, and one whom he was rather pleased to meet.

"Friend of yours, Sun Maid? Glad to see her."

"Glad to see me, be you? Wait till Abel Smith comes an' identifies
you. Then see which side the laugh's on, you--you----"

"Osceolo is my name, ma'am."

Foreseeing difficulties, the girl guided her guest into the kitchen,
where Wahneenah was preparing dinner, and where the Indian woman
greeted her old acquaintance with no surprise and, certainly, without
any of the effusiveness that, for once, rather marked Mercy's manner
toward her former "hired girl."

"Well, it's a real likely house, now, ain't it? I'd admire to see the
minister. It's years since I saw one. Is he about?"

Kitty answered:

"Yes. He is studying. I rather hate to disturb him; but at dinner you
will meet him."

"Studying! Studying what? Why, I thought he was an old man."

"He is. So old, I sometimes fear we will not have him with us long."

"What's the use learnin' anything more, then?"

"One can never know too much, I fancy. Just at present he is writing a
dictionary of the Indian dialects, so far as he has been able to
obtain them."

"The--Indian--language! He wouldn't be so silly, now come!"

"He is just so wise. It is a splendid work. I am proud to be his
helper, even by just merely copying his papers."

"Well! You could knock me down with a feather! One thing--I sha'n't
never set under his preachin'. I wouldn't demean myself. The idee!"

"Mercy, do you remember the red-covered Bible? Have you it still?"

"Course. I wouldn't let anything happen to that. It was a reward of
merit. It's wrote in the front: 'To Mercy Ba