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And as she drove through the foot-hill country, she told the solemn-eyed little Judith the story of the Sioux, and what a great fighting people they had been before Rodney’s people drove them from their land. Judith was holding a doll dressed exactly like herself, in soft buckskin shirt, little trousers, and moccasins, all beautifully beaded. In her turn she told the story to the doll.
And she walked to Rodney’s cabin, not as an outgrown mistress, but as the daughter of a chief. The little Judith held up her head and clung tight to the doll. She knew that something of moment was about to happen. The gala trio, Singing Stream, Judith, and Judith’s doll, presented themselves at Rodney’s house, before which the bride was washing clothes, the day being fine.
And as he danced and swayed, all unwittingly his glance fell on the window opposite, and Jim Rodney’s face looked in at him, beautiful in its ecstasy of hate—Rodney’s face, refined, sharpened, tried in some bitter crucible, but Rodney’s face! Henderson could not withdraw his fascinated gaze. He stood in the midst of the dancers like a man turned to stone.
Rodney’s second self, as indeed was every member of the family, Eudora led Mary to a bench placed in one of the rooms enjoying the distinction of a side wall, and indicated a family toilet service, which displayed every indication of having lately seen active service.
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