MRS. ANDREW SHERIDAN,

Oakwood, Pa.

Your husband on board _Antares_ when she sank in collision off Nova
Scotia August first. Now in Good Samaritan Hospital, St. Margaret's,
Nova Scotia, probably fatally injured.
Come.

The signature was that of some official of the government.

"Oh-h-h!" cried the Winnebagos in horror, staring, fascinated, at the
fatal sheet of paper in their hands. Migwan ran to Nyoda and put her
arms around her in silent sympathy; the rest stood still, with shocked,
frightened faces.

After a moment of stunned surprise Nyoda rallied herself. "Come," she
said, in her usual calm, brisk tones, "I have to make haste. I must go
on that early morning train. It goes through here about four. Help me
pack, girls."

Recalled to themselves by the quietness of Nyoda's manner the Winnebagos
set about helping in their usual efficient way. Hinpoha and Gladys sped
to the kitchen to make coffee and sandwiches; Sahwah sped downstairs
into the laundry to bring up the freshly ironed clothes; Slim and the
Captain went up into the attic to bring down the suitcase and make
themselves generally useful; Migwan went to Nyoda's room with her to
help her make ready for the journey.

Sahwah was coming up the cellar stairs with a basket of clothes in her
hand. Just as she passed the side entry door she heard someone fumbling
with the knob on the outside. The knob turned and the door began to open
softly. "Who's there?" called Sahwah sharply, switching on the light in
the entry and throwing wide the door. There stood Veronica, with her
violin under her arm and her hat and coat on. She started back when she
saw Sahwah and the two stood looking into each other's eyes. "She hasn't
been home, she's still got her violin," was the thought that went
through Sahwah's mind.

"I thought you went home with a sick headache from the party," she said
in astonishment.

"So did the rest of them," replied Veronica imperturbably.

Their eyes met and held for a second, and it seemed to Sahwah that
Veronica looked haggard and haunted.

"Is everybody home?" asked Veronica presently.

"Yes," replied Sahwah, "and, O Veronica--" and she told her the news.

"Oh, poor, poor Nyoda!" cried Veronica, and throwing off her hat and
coat she thrust them with her violin into the closet under the stairs
and then sped upstairs.

"She didn't have a headache at all, she didn't go home, she went
somewhere else," throbbed Sahwah's weary br