“Oh, Nyoda!” was all she said, but Nyoda understood, and the other Torch Bearers, having had that same emotion themselves once upon a time, also understood.
Agony stared down steadily into her lap. She had experienced the first great jolt of her life. For the first time in her life Oh-Pshaw had gone up above her. For the first time she realized that there were qualities in others that counted more than her own brilliant gift of leading the crowd without effort. For the first time she had come up against something that she could not get by demanding it, something that had to be won by honest, painful effort. At first astonishment that she had not been named filled her to the exclusion of all other emotions, then she felt terribly humiliated, and then, as she began to think of the qualities she _didn’t_ possess she began to feel very humble. Nyoda watched her closely and knew just about what was taking place in her mind. There was wonderful stuff in Agony, she knew, and as soon as the right spirit guided her she would make a leader beyond compare. So Nyoda had given her this great jolt to-night, knowing that it was the thing she needed to set her facing around in the right direction. She walked beside Agony as they went home through the woods, talking cheerfully all the way, and made no comment on Agony’s unusual silence. Agony shed some tears into her pillow that night after Oh-Pshaw was asleep in the bed beside her, smiling happily in the moonlight that streamed in through the window. Then her gameness came to the top and she made up her mind to let Oh-Pshaw make the most of her one triumph over her and not spoil it by acting jealous.
“And some day I’ll do something myself that will make me worthy to be called Torch Bearer,” she resolved as she reached under the pillow for a dry handkerchief.
* * * * *
Sahwah stood before the portrait of Elizabeth Carver in the long drawing room, paying her fare-well visit. The suitcases of the departing Winnebagos were piled on the porch outside, waiting for the moment of departure. The great air of respect and deference, tinged with envy, that Sahwah had heretofore worn when she addressed Elizabeth Carver had given way to an air of conscious equality.
“Elizabeth,” said Sahwah solemnly, “I’ve had a romantic adventure, too. We’re twins now, you and I. I don’t believe I’d care to go back and change places with you after all; a modern girl has so much more chance for adventure! Life is very interesting, Elizabeth, and I’m _so_ thankful to have been a part of things that were happening.”
Her mind went back over all the events that had taken place since the first time she had stood in the long drawing room at Carver House and looked up at the picture of Elizabeth Carver.
“Hasn’t it been a summer, though!” she said with a reminiscent sigh. “What _do_ you suppose will happen next?”
And Elizabeth Carver, looking down from her frame, smiled knowingly.
THE END