It was even as the daughter had said, a room in which literature and the odor of fragrant cigars alone suggested a modern epoch. The decorations, if such they could be called, were all Indian. Rare tribe blankets covered the floor and couches, serving not only for portières, but in parts of the room for wall hangings. Against these blankets were displayed an unrivaled collection of rich old baskets. Upon one wall was stretched a gorgeous Indian genealogy, the handiwork of a gifted squaw, while the skin of a mammoth grizzly, the huge head still intact, reposed in front of the fireplace. From chimney shelf to ceiling hung weapons and finery pertaining to the aboriginal chase. "Now," said Ethel, when Miss Margaret demanded once more our immediate attendance upon luncheon, "we will strike for high civilization--my sister's own kingdom!" Upon seating ourselves about the great round table in the perfectly appointed dining-room, I observed that Sidney had been placed between Ethel and Mariposilla, while Marjorie and I had been assigned places opposite. I could see Mariposilla's every motion without appearing to watch her, and I confess that I was at first slightly agitated, fearing the ordeal might prove embarrassing, not only for the child, but for ourselves. I was sure that she had never before been seated at so stylish a lunch-table. In spite of its cultivated informality, there was for the unsophisticated girl an unintelligible problem close at hand in the complicated appointments of her plate. While we spoke of the exquisite long-stemmed pink roses that filled a cut-glass punch-bowl in the center of the table, I could see Mariposilla regarding quietly the array of silver encompassing her place. If I again doubted the propriety of what we had done, it was evident that but one method of escape remained--to make plain my every motion. Even as the idea seized me I perceived that the Spanish child had hit upon the plan herself, and was nervefully determined not to disgrace her friends. As luncheon proceeded I almost forgot my fears in admiration for the child's pluck. Her sensible, observant conduct delighted me, and I no longer doubted her fitness for any social position to which she might be raised. Mrs. Sanderson, as usual, captivated the party with gay sallies of wit. Her pretty allusions to the faultless details of Miss Walton's table won for her at once Miss Margaret's approval. "Your starched Celestial fills me with reverence," she declared, when the impassible Wong left the dining-room, after depositing, with majestic importance, a wonderful salad. "He never allows the maid to bring in the salad," Ethel explained, mirthfully. "He considers a salad the culmination of his art, and generally announces for the benefit of our guests, 'Heap fine salad! Muchey good.'"