"Then they're yours," said the agent, and mine they proved to be.
Altogether there was a wagonload.
"What on earth?" said father and Justice when I drove up to the house.
"Have you gone into the trucking business?"
"Christmas presents, Father!" I shouted. "All Christmas presents. I've
got the whole of Santa Claus's load. Quick, bring me a hammer and an ax
and a jimmy!"
Oh, girls, when I saw what was in those first three boxes I just sat down
on the floor and wept for joy. Only the Winnebagos could have thought of
sending me the House of the Open Door. There were the Indian beds and
Hinpoha's bearskin and all the Navajo blankets and the pottery, just as I
had seen it last in the Open Door Lodge, big as life and twice as
natural. And the note from Sahwah that came along with them was a piece
of Sahwah herself.
"The things are lonesome," she wrote, "and pining for someone to love
them and use them. I am sending them to your new Camp Fire because I
know your girls will love them as they deserve to be loved. The ghosts
of all the good times we had in the House of the Open Door are hovering
around the things, so anyone that gets them can't help falling under
the old spell and learning how to squeeze the most fun out of every
minute.
"The gymnasium apparatus is the Sandwiches' Christmas present. It was
Slim's and the Captain's idea to send it out to you for your girls and
boys to use.
"The House of the Open Door is being turned into Red Cross work rooms
for Camp Fire Girls and we need every inch of space for the work
tables. Even our beloved Lodge is Giving Service."
Gladys Evans, your father is an _angel_! He doesn't need to wait until he
gets to heaven for his halo, it's visible a mile off, this minute! To
think of sending me a graphophone and a hundred records! I simply can't
tell you what that is going to mean to my school. I won't be able to
_drive_ the boys and girls away now!
And your mother! That lantern machine and the slides showing the Red
Cross work and all the other splendid things is worth its weight in gold.
Oh, my dears! _Where_ did you ever find time to make those twelve
ceremonial dresses?
"FROM THE LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS TO THE FIRST OF THE WENONAHS. LET BIG
SISTER WINNIE SEE THAT LITTLE SISSY WEENIE IS PROPERLY CLOTHED."
I'll bet anything your friend Agony wrote that. I have a feeling that she
and I are kindred spirits.
Won't my girls revel in those beads and looms, though?
BOOKS! Four whole cases of them! What on earth have you done now?
"THE WINNEBAGO LIBRARY
PASSED ON BY THOSE WHO KNOW AND LOVE GOOD BOOKS TO THOSE WHO WILL
SOON KNOW AND LOVE THEM"
How did you do it? Asked a hundred girls to give one book apiece? You
don't mean to say that there are a hundred girls interested in us poor
backwoods folks out here in Spencer? I can't believe it! Oh, we'll work
and work and _work_, to prove ourselves worthy of it all!
And oh, all those little personal pretties just for me! Hinpoha, _where_
did you find that darling pen-holder with the parrot's head on the end,
and Gladys, who told you that I broke my handglass and was pining for a
white ivory one?
And even a lump of sugar for Sandhelo and a bow for Piggy's tail! I
admire the artist who drew that bow.
The last box bore Nyoda's return address. What do you suppose was in it?
Her chafing dish! The very one she used to have in her room, that I used
to admire so much. Dear Nyoda! She knew I would rather have that than
anything else.
O my dears, there never _was_ such a Christmas! There never _will_ be
such a Christmas! Nobody ever had such friends before. If I live to be a
thousand years old I'll never be able to return one-tenth of your
kindness.
Yours, swimming in ecstasy,
Katherine.