“I must admit there’s some truth as well as poetry in what she says about us,” his mother confessed.

“Truth? Well, of course, Mother. Husbands and wives naturally have their bad moments. I’ve even known one or two who didn’t speak to each other for weeks or perhaps months. But that doesn’t mean we have weddings to forget or are to be criticized by savages who have no civilized ways at all.”

“What else did Nan say to this girl, Son?”

“Oh, many things. I believe one time she called Claire a dirty squaw or something like that. Another time she told her that Indians lied and couldn’t be trusted. She accused Claire of claiming to be her sister only to get the money Mary’s mother left to her on her twentieth birthday. She’s also made unpleasant remarks about Claire’s Indian boy, whom Nan seems to dislike even more than she does Claire. Oh, I don’t condone it, Mother. I would have stopped it had I heard about it in time. I suspect the servants encourage it. Not that it takes too much encouragement. You know how willful and sharp-tongued a child without a mother here on the frontier can be.”

His mother made a grave face.

“I had hoped,” she said, “that Mary’s return would be a good influence on Nan’s disposition and temper.”

“Oh, she has been, she has been,” Peter Stanton assured. “A very good influence. It’s the presence of this Indian girl claiming to be her sister that has upset and outraged the child. We must get rid of her, Mother, and I’m counting on you to accomplish it.”

“What hast thou done about it thyself, Son?” his mother asked.

“There’s little I can do short of discharging her,” he confessed unhappily. “And I don’t want to anger her. She might take revenge on Nan sometime or on me by burning down the inn or the stables. Mrs. Karricher’s husband was an Indian fighter and she agrees it’s wisest to persuade her to leave on her own volition. To that end she and the girls in the kitchen have been making it unpleasant for her. They’ve given her what they call the silent treatment. They decline to have anything to do with her. They put salt in her tea and red pepper in her and the boy’s food. Several times Mrs. Karricher felt the girl was on the point of leaving, but an Indian’s skin is thick. It seems they can wait forever and the two of them are still here.”

His mother gazed steadily into his eyes.

“Why dost thou suppose she stays?”

“Who knows? There’s no probing the Indian mind. Her life here is probably better than with her own people. Then I wonder sometimes if it could be for Nan. The girl seems to have taken a fancy to her, perhaps because Nan is white and very fair while her own child is Indian and very dark. Mrs. Karricher says she’s caught the girl looking at Nan with a kind of worship despite the bad times Nan gives her.”