“Oh, Nyoda,” cried Gladys sorrowfully, “do you mean that all our good times together are over? That this is the end of it all?”
“No, dear, this is not the end,” said Nyoda cheerfully, “this is the ‘beginning of it all.’ I do not mean for a moment that you girls are not to meet and frolic together any more; but that must not be the main thing. You must begin leading groups of younger girls and teaching them to have a good time as you have learned to. What wonderful Guardians you will make in time!” she said musingly.
“Besides,” she added, after a moment’s silence, while the girls thoughtfully pondered the new idea she had given them, “you had come to the parting of the ways, although you didn’t seem to realize it. You have graduated from school, and next year Hinpoha and Gladys and Katherine are going away to college, each one to a different city, and Nakwisi is to travel with her aunt, and Veronica will be going to New York to study music sooner or later. That leaves only Sahwah and Medmangi here in the city. You couldn’t go on as you have in the past, even if I were not going away. But come,” she cried in an animated tone, “enough of solemn talk! We’ve had three years together, and nobody can take them away from us, never. And we’re all together now. Let the future take care of itself; this is today! Come, come, a song!”
And once more the rafters rang:
“O we are Winnebagos and we’re loyal friends and true,
We always work in harmony in everything we do,
We always think the weather’s fine, in sunshine or in snow,
We’re happy all the time because we’re maids of Wohelo!”
The echoes died away and then sprang into life again.
“For we are Winnebagos,
For we are Winnebagos,
For we are Winnebagos,
And that’s why we’re so spry!”
“A toast!” cried Nyoda, “a toast to the future!” And they drank it in the remains of the cocoa. Their eyes met as they clinked the cups, and overflowed. “Oh, my girls,” cried Nyoda, trying to get her arms around all of them at once, “there never was such a group! And there never will be such a group! I just can’t leave you!” Then she pulled herself up again. The time was passing and she must hasten, for she was leaving on the train late that night. Her marriage was to take place in the East. “Come, girls, ‘Mystic Fire.’” And once again their voices rose in musical chant:
“With hand uplifted we claim thy power,
Guide and keep us as we go,
True to Wohelo.
Thy law is our law from this hour,
Thy mystic spirit’s flame will show
Us the way to go.”
And so on to the end.
But when they stood in the close circle with which the song ends, Nyoda stooped to the hearth, and, plucking forth a burning brand, held it aloft as a torch, and the girls passed in front of her, each carrying a tiny torch in her hand, which she lit from the big one. Then the circle stood complete once more, a ring of shining light. Silence fell on all. The moment of parting had come.
“Don’t say good-bye,” begged Nyoda. “Act as if I were a guest just leaving for a short time.”
And bravely, with voices that did not falter to the end, they sang the familiar guest song:
“Our guest, may she come again soon——”
and followed it with a fervent cheer:
“O Nyoda, here’s to you,
Our hearts will e’er be true,
We will never find your equal
Though we search the whole world through!”
Then the circle turned resolutely and faced outward. A moment more they lingered, and then they went forth into the night, carrying their torches with them.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes
- Silently corrected palpable typos in spelling and punctuation
- Adjusted front matter to give a complete list of the series