Doctor McLaughlin was rejoiced when I adopted her." "Well, then, Madam, what next!" -- "Yes, with the promise to him that I would care for that little child.
I want something for my own.

See now.

Come, Natoka!" The old servant paused at the door.

There slid across the floor with the silent feet of the savage the tiny figure of a little child, perhaps four years of age, with coal-black hair and beady eyes, clad in all the bequilled finery that a trading-post could furnish--a little orphan child, as I learned later, whose parents had both been lost in a canoe accident at the Dalles.

She was an infant, wild, untrained, unloved, unable to speak a word of the language that she heard.