"We're making that old hag altogether too important, it seems to me.

Come on, Goldilocks--we haven't had a real satisfying sort of scrap for several thousand years." She permitted him to lead her to the hammock, and pile three cushions behind her head and shoulders--with the dark-blue one on top because her hair looked well against it--and dispose himself comfortably where he could look his fill at her while he swung the hammock gently with his boot-heel, scraping a furrow in the sand.

But she did not show any dimples, though his eyes and his lips smiled together when she looked at him, and when he took up her hand and kissed each finger-tip in turn, she was as passive as a doll under the caresses of a child.
"What's the matter ?" he demanded, when he found that her manner did not soften.

"Worrying still about what that old squaw said ?" "Not in the slightest." Evadna's tone was perfectly polite--which was a bad sign.
Good Indian thought he saw the makings of a quarrel in her general attitude, and he thought he might as well get at once to the real root of her resentment.
"What are you thinking about?
Tell me, Goldilocks," he coaxed, pushing his own troubles to the back of his mind.
"Oh, nothing.

I was just wondering--though it's a trivial matter which is hardly worth mentioning--but I just happened to wonder how you came to know that Georgie Howard is in the habit of giving candy to the squaws--or anything else.