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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Veronica," began Sahwah, striving to speak in an offhand manner, "if if you had a friend that you loved and that friend did something that you couldn't understand and which seemed very strange and even suspicious to you, what would you do?" Veronica's eyes took on a thoughtful, far-away look, but they met Sahwah's squarely.
And her arm was twisted under her head in the peculiar position in which Sahwah always sleeps, so that it looked as if she had fallen on it. "Her heart's beating," announced Mr. Watterson, after investigating. Mrs. Watterson came out and also looked Sahwah over. A handkerchief was dangling half out of the pocket of Sahwah's coat and a name written on it in indelible ink caught the woman's eye.
"But we wouldn't have ventured to serenade her if she hadn't been so friendly with you," replied Migwan, "so it amounts to the same thing in the end. That's the way it has always been with us Winnebagos, hasn't it? What one does always helps the rest of us. Sahwah's swimming has made us all famous; and so has Gladys's dancing and Katherine's speechifying." "And your writing," put in Hinpoha.
"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 brain. "And whatever she's done, she's scared to death about it," it throbbed on.
And she must have said something else through the telephone and Sahwah's ears had played her a trick. It was easy to have missed her in her search through the big house; Sahwah had merely run into one room after another, given a hasty glance around and then run on to the next. Sahwah smoothed the brown satiny forehead lovingly, and laughed at herself for a suspicious idiot.
She paused to squeeze Sahwah's hand, which rested on the arm of her chair. "My uncle feels the same way about it as I do," continued Sahwah. "He became an American citizen ten years ago and is much more proud of his American citizenship than he ever was of his title." "Did your uncle have a title?" asked Hinpoha breathlessly.
"It's the Huronic!" gasped Hinpoha, her eyes following Sahwah's pointing finger. Jammed up on a reef and completely at the mercy of the waves that battered against her side lay the great steamer that only a week before had swept so proudly through the channel. The beautiful white bird had its wings broken now, and drooping helplessly lay exposed to the full fury of the storm.
Ever since Sahwah had covered herself with undying glory in the game with the Carnegie Mechanics, Migwan felt a longing to distinguish herself in some way also. Sahwah's fame was widespread, and when any of the Winnebagos happened to mention that they belonged to that particular group, some one was sure to say, "The Winnebago Camp Fire?
Veronica looked at her a moment, the expression of astonishment frozen on her face, and then to Sahwah's great bewilderment she laughed aloud, a genuine, mirthful, unforced, ringing laugh. "Sahwah dear," she said, looking her straight in the eye, "it's perfectly true, all that you said.
Like the roar of the waves of the sea rose the yell of the Washingtonians: "Who tied the score when the score was rolling? Who tied the score when the score was rolling? Brewster, yes? Well, I guess! She tied the score when the score was rolling!" Then Sahwah's luck turned and she could make no more baskets. She began to feel weak again and fumbled the ball more than once.
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