"Shall we have tea out on our veranda, Barbara?" Miss Sallie asked. "I cannot tear myself away from this view. How exquisite the lake looks down between those mountains. And what is the name of that hill over there?

Oh, yes, I know you girls have told me the name of it many times before, but as I cannot remember it, you will probably have to tell it to me repeatedly. Monument Mountain, did you say? Oh, I recall the story now.

An Indian girl is supposed to have flung herself off of it on account of some love affair. Curious people the Indians," she continued. "Do you know, Bab, I am much interested in our little Indian girl? She is a very beautiful child, and her race is not usually beautiful. I don't understand the girl looking as she does. I shall go to the hospital with you to see her soon. Now, hurry along, child, and order the tea." Miss Sallie paused for an instant. "And tell the waiter to see that the service is good. English people are so particular about their tea!"

Barbara was back from her errand just in time to see a pony carriage drive up in front of the hotel. She went forward to meet their guests, sighing a little to herself. "I do wish Ruth and Mollie would come. I am sure I shan't know how to talk to these English girls by myself. I hardly spoke to them the night of our famous c.o.o.n hunt."

Gwendolin and Dorothy Morton came half shyly forward. They were tall, willowy girls, with soft, brown hair and lovely complexions.

"I know why English girls are thought to look like roses," flashed through Bab's mind. "These girls are just like roses bending from long stems." Barbara came forward, speaking in her usual frank fashion. "I am so glad to see you," she declared. "Will you come to our little private balcony? If it is not too cold for you, Miss Stuart wishes to have tea out there."

Gwendolin and Dorothy Morton followed Bab in silence. As English girls do not talk so much as American girls on first acquaintance, Barbara felt compelled to keep up the conversation.

"I am ever so sorry," she went on; "but my friend, Ruth Stuart, and my sister, Mollie, are not yet back from the hospital. They have gone to ask about our little Indian girl."

"Your little Indian girl!" exclaimed Dorothy Morton, surprised into talking. "Why, what do you mean?"

Bab glanced back over her shoulder as the three girls started into the hotel. "There come Ruth and Mollie now!" she exclaimed. "They can tell you about our little Eunice better than lean."

A crimson motor car was speeding up the avenue.

"How well Miss Stuart drives her car!" laughed Gwendolin Morton. "But she will have to be very careful; the road laws are very strict in Lenox. I must tell her that, if she is arrested, she will surely be taken to prison. I don't know how to drive a car. My sister and I are more fond of horses. Do you ride, Miss Thurston?"

Barbara colored. She wondered what these wealthy English girls would think of the kind of riding to which she had been accustomed. An old bareback horse, a Texas pony, once even a mule had been Barbara's steeds.

So she answered shyly: "Yes, I do ride a little. But, of course, I don't ride in the beautiful way I know you and your sister do."

"We are very anxious to have you and your friends take part in our autumn sports at Lenox," urged Dorothy Morton.

Barbara and the two English girls were waiting at the hotel door for Ruth and Mollie.

In another moment Ruth jumped from her car, and, followed by Mollie, came hurrying up to her guests.

"I am so sorry not to be here when you arrived," she explained. "We just flew home. I was afraid of being held up every minute. But we were kept waiting so long at the hospital that I knew we were late. Do let's join Aunt Sallie. She will grow impatient."

Miss Stuart came forward from her veranda into their private sitting-room. "I am so glad to see you," she said to the two English girls.

"And we are delighted to be your first guests, Miss Stuart," said Gwendolin, who was the elder of the two girls. "Mr. h.e.l.ler wishes to come in and pay his respects to you later, and I believe Mr. Winthrop Latham and his nephew are on their way now. We pa.s.sed them as we drove here."

"Aunt Sallie," Ruth spoke softly a few moments later, when she thought no one was listening, "little Eunice is better. But Naki had to take her to the hospital at Pittsfield. He could not find a place for her here.

Fortunately, Pittsfield is only a few miles from Lenox over a simply perfect road, so we shan't mind going back and forth in the car. Naki and Ceally are keeping the poor old Indian grandmother with them. Ceally says she seems subdued and frightened."

Ruth turned rosy red. From the silence in the room she knew her guests were hearing what she said. "I beg your pardon," she explained, turning to Dorothy Morton, who was nearest her. "Please forgive my bad manners.

We are so interested in our new protegee that I forget that you know nothing of her."

"But we should like to know, awfully!" Dorothy declared. "Who is this Indian girl? I thought all the Indians had vanished from the Berkshires."

But Mr. Winthrop Latham and his nephew Reginald were at the door.

Behind them was a plump little German, with blond hair parted in the middle, a tiny waxed mustache and near-sighted blue eyes. He was Franz h.e.l.ler, the Secretary at the German Emba.s.sy. He could usually be found somewhere in the neighborhood of Gwendolin Morton.

Reginald Latham came up to Bab and sat down next her.

"Please," he whispered immediately, "do not speak of the little Indian girl before my uncle."

"Why not?" queried Bab, in astonishment.

"I can't explain to you now!" Reginald faltered. His uncle's eyes were fastened on him.

Miss Stuart announcing that tea was waiting on the balcony, the little party adjourned to the veranda and stood talking and admiring the view.

It was a wonderful, clear October day, radiant with warm sunshine.

Mr. Winthrop Latham stood near Miss Stuart, a.s.sisting her to serve the tea. The young people were talking in a group near them.

"I say, Ruth!" exclaimed Dorothy Morton. "Forgive my calling you Ruth so early in our acquaintance, but if I call you Miss Stuart, your aunt may think I am speaking to her. Do please tell us about the mysterious little Indian girl, who is your protegee. Where did you find her?"

Reginald Latham, who was near Barbara, broke into the conversation.

"Tell Miss Stuart about our fall sports, Dorothy!" he urged.

"Tell me of them afterwards," said Dorothy. "I must hear about this Indian child first."

"Well, the story of our little Indian girl is a long and rather odd one,"

Ruth a.s.serted. "As she is really Mollie's discovery, not mine, Mollie must tell you about her."

Mollie was embarra.s.sed at suddenly finding herself the center of so many eyes.

Mr. Winthrop Latham had turned around, and was also watching her. He had caught Ruth's last speech.

"Why," confessed Mollie, "the story of our little Indian girl is simple enough, but it is very strange."

The little girl paused. Reginald Latham's eyes were fixed on her in a strange gaze; but she had started to tell her tale and must go on. Mollie looked over at Aunt Sallie, and the latter nodded her approval.

Quietly Mollie told of her wood nymph first leading her astray on the mountain; of Eunice's visit to her, next day, and of Bab's accidental shooting of the child afterwards.

"I don't think our discovery of the little Indian girl was so odd," said Mollie. "What I think is strange is that no one around here ever knew of her before. Just think, Eunice is thirteen or fourteen years old and she has been kept hidden in these hills by her old Indian grandmother all her life. She had never been to a town until she was taken to the hospital by our guide, Naki. Yet she is so pretty and gentle. I love her already."

The little girl had a queer feeling as if she were defending Eunice--she did not know why.

A voice broke into the conversation. "You say, my dear"--Mr. Latham spoke sternly--"that you and your friends have found an old Indian woman and a child called Eunice hidden in the woods back of you? The thing is impossible. The old woman and the girl are probably gypsies or tramps.

They cannot be Indians. I have reason to know the history of the Indians in this part of the country very well. My eldest brother married an Indian girl. She was the last of her people in this vicinity, and she died about fifteen years ago."

Mollie did not answer. A sudden silence fell upon the little group.

Barbara looked at Reginald. She understood, now, why he was often afraid of his uncle. The older man would not endure contradiction.

"Reginald, we must say good-bye to Miss Stuart," his uncle commanded.

"Don't go just yet, Mr. Latham," pleaded Gwendolin Morton. "You promised to help me explain to Miss Stuart the plan for our day of sports. You see, Miss Stuart, every season at Lenox we have an annual entertainment for the benefit of our hospital fund. This year father is to take charge of the sports, which we try to make just as informal and jolly as possible. One of the reasons for my call was to ask you to let your girls help us out with our amus.e.m.e.nts. As soon as I told my father we had met some delightful American girls who were camping near here, he suggested that we invite them to join in our sports. We intend to have some really good riding; but the other games are only jokes. Did you ever hear of a dummy race or a thread-and-needle race?"

Miss Stuart shook her head, smilingly, as she said, "Miss Morton, I don't even try to keep up with the ways young people have of entertaining themselves these days; but I am sure, whatever your Lenox sports may be, my 'Automobile Girls' will be happy to take part in them."