Sister Heller smiled in return, but her small sharp eyes seemed to pierce the visitor with an unnecessary stare. "We're very fond of her," spoke up Mrs. Emmit, "she was treated roughly by her own people as they passed. She was so old that she couldn't keep up with the tribe, so they didn't want her. We took her and she has been one of us ever since." The old Indian smilingly nodded and then uncovered a basket of home-made cookies. "I brought them over for your party," she said simply. "And so the little party ate ice-cream and cake and chattered until late. Betty took the Indian woman aside before leaving. "Isn't the 'New-Yorker' jest wonderful?" she asked delighted. The old woman looked down at the child's eager face without a smile. "Betty, I don't like her. Have a care. The Indian knows friend or foe." Betty's face flushed with righteous indignation. "For shame, you're not an Indian now--you're a Christian, but you don't talk like one!" She patted Betty's head lovingly. "You see, Dearie, you see!" CHAPTER III. A child's love is as proportionately great as a woman's. Two years later and Spring Conference had come to Salt Lake City. When all the "Mormons" in Utah tried to get to their semi-annual conference, in their beloved city, it meant a sight for tourists indeed! So thought young Dr. George Cadman, who was returning to New York, from a trip to California, and had stopped off at Salt Lake to see the sights and especially to get a glimpse of those peculiar people called "Mormons," about whom so much was said and written. Dr. Cadman was a handsome man of twenty-four, medium in height, but strongly built. His fine regular features and deep-set gray eyes, made him the object of attraction to more than one as he stood on the corner of Main street, outside of the Hotel Utah, looking at the crowds, as they made their way to the great tabernacle. "Strange!" he thought, "these people don't look wicked!" Then he walked over to the monument of Brigham Young, to read the inscription. "Stranger here, brother?" asked a pleasant voice. He turned to meet the pleasant gaze of an old, long-bearded man, attired in a plain black suit. On his arm hung his wife, presumably about his own age, wearing a black cloth dress. "Yes, quite a stranger," returned Dr. Cadman courteously. "This statue, I believe is of the man who led the 'Mormons' through the 'Rockies?'" The old man's eyes fired with enthusiasm. "Yes, brother, yes! Brigham Young, the Prophet of the Lord! A grander man I never knew. He led us here--to our destruction, the world thought,--but it was to our peace and prosperity!" George scanned the couple with interest. They didn't look very prosperous. Aloud he said, "So you're a 'Mormon,' are you? And one of the old pioneers?"