"I doubt if you'll believe me," puffed Queen Elizabeth dolorously, "but
every day since that time she deliberately went out and lost herself
all day in the flat-woods and stopped to look at that ridiculous cart
with the wheel of flame when I was sure a buzzard had bitten her--No!
No! I don't know, Jethro; I'm sure I don't. How should I know why it
was burning? But it was. She said plainly that it was a cart wheel of
fire and if it was a wheel it must certainly have been on something and
what on earth would a wheel be on but a cart? Certainly one wouldn't
buy a bale of cart wheels to make fires in the flat-woods. Well, it's
the strangest thing, Jethro, but nearly every day since, she's visited
the flat-woods and wandered about with that terrible Indian girl who
isn't an Indian girl. Seems that she's a most extraordinary girl with
a foster-father and she sells sand mounds--no, that's not it--the
things they find in them besides the sand--and she has a queer, wild
sort of culture and her father was white. Like as not Diane will come
home some night scalped and she has such magnificent hair, Jethro. To
her knees it is and so black! And what must she and Ann do to-night
but--there, I promised Diane faithfully to keep it a secret, for
they've been working for days and days and she is distractingly lovely.
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