An Apache Princess

Just before sunset she had left him and gone to her room to change her

dress for the evening, and Janet's first swoop was upon her brother.

Once before during the exciting day she had had a moment to herself

and him. She had so constantly fanned the flame of his belief in

Blakely's gallantries as even to throttle the sense of gratitude he

felt, and, in spite of herself, that she felt for that officer's

daring and successful services during the campaign. She felt, and he

felt, that they must disapprove of Blakely--must stamp out any nascent

regard that Angela might cherish for him, and to this end would never

in her presence admit that he had been instrumental in the rescue of

his captain, much less his captain's daughter. Hurriedly Janet had

told him what she and Plume had seen, and left him to ponder over it.

Now she came to induce him to bid her tell it all to Angela. "Now

that, that other--affair--seems disproved," said she, "she'll be

thinking there's no reason why she shouldn't be thinking of him," and

dejectedly the Scotchman bade her do as seemed best. Women, he

reasoned, could better read each other's hearts.

And so Janet had gone and had thought to shock, and had most

impressively detailed what she had witnessed--I fear me Janet scrupled

not to embroider a bit, so much is permissible to the "unco guid" when

so very much is at stake. And Angela went on brushing out her

beautiful hair without a sign of emotion. To the scandal of Scotch

maidenhood she seemed unimpressed by the depravity of the pair. To the

surprise of Aunt Janet she heard her without interruption to the

uttermost word, and then--wished to know if Aunt Janet thought the

major would let her send Natzie something for supper.

Whatever the girl may have thought of this new and possible

complication, she determined that no soul should read that it cost her

a pang. She declined to discuss it. She did what she had not done

before that day--went forth in search of Kate Sanders. Aunt Janet was

astonished that her niece should wish to send food to that--that

trollop. What would she have thought could she have heard what passed

a few moments later? In the dusk and the gloaming Kate Sanders was in

conversation on the side veranda with a tall sergeant of her father's

troop. "Ask her?" Kate was saying. "Of course I'll ask her. Why, here

she comes now!" Will it be believed that Sergeant Shannon wished Miss

Angela's permission to "take Punch out for a little exercise," a thing

he had never ventured to ask before, and that Angela Wren eagerly

said, "Yes." Poor Shannon! He did not know that night how soon he

would be borrowing a horse on his own account, nor that two brave

girls would nearly cry their eyes out over it, when they were barely

on speaking terms.