.

THE MALICE OF A SQUAW.
Good Indian looked in the hammock, but Evadna was not there.

He went to the little stone bench at the head of the pond, and when he still did not see her he followed the bank around to the milk-house, where was a mumble of voices.

And, standing in the doorway with her arm thrown around her Aunt Phoebe's shoulders in a pretty protective manner, he saw her, and his eyes gladdened.

She did not see him at once.