Thrills of excitement, like little needle p.r.i.c.ks, ran up and down her spine; her whole being seemed alight with some wonderful inner radiance, that shone through the flesh and transfigured it with unearthly beauty.
Nyoda brought the fairy-like white dress and draped it about her, playing the role of lady-in-waiting with spirit. Every time she pa.s.sed before Sylvia she bowed low; she made the Winnebagos stand up in a line and pa.s.s in the bracelets from hand to hand; she herself brought in the crown on a cushion, and placed it upon Sylvia"s head with much ceremony.
"Doesn"t she look like a real royal princess, though!" Migwan exclaimed to Hinpoha in the far end of the room. "I feel actually abashed before her, knowing all the while that it"s only playing."
"O, if she could only have been cured!" Hinpoha sighed in answer. "How much jollier it would have been!"
Migwan echoed the sigh. "Life is very strange," she said musingly.
"Things don"t always come out the way we want them to."
"That"s so," said Hinpoha, beginning to see a great many sober possibilities in life which had never before occurred to her.
An automobile horn sounded outside. "There"s Sherry now, bringing Dr.
Phillips back from their ride," said Migwan. "They"ll be coming up in a few minutes."
The horn sounded again.
"The royal trumpeter!" cried Sylvia. "Our royal father, the king, approaches!"
She settled the crown more firmly upon her head, and sat up very straight on her throne. Her cheeks glowed like roses; her eyes were like great stars. Nyoda watched her keenly for any signs of being overcome with excitement.
From the hall came the sound of footsteps.
"His Majesty, the King," said Nyoda, throwing open the door with a dramatic flourish.
For a moment Dr. Phillips stood transfixed upon the threshold, overcome by the scene of splendor within.
Then he held out his arms to her, forgetting that she was paralyzed.
"Sylvia-daughter!"
"Father!"
Then the amazing thing happened. Sylvia rose to her feet, stepped from the throne, and ran across the room into her father"s arms.
"It happens sometimes," explained Dr. Phillips a few moments later, when they had all recovered from their first stupefied amazement. "Some great shock, and the paralyzed nerves wake to life again. That is what has taken place here. She is cured."
CHAPTER XXII ONE MORE TOAST
"To the Christmas Adventure at Carver House!" proposed Katherine, raising on high her gla.s.s of fruit punch.
New Year"s dinner was over, and they all stood in their places around the table, drinking toast after toast.
"The Christmas Adventure at Carver House!" echoed the Winnebagos. "The best adventure we"ve had yet. Drink her down!" The toast was drunk with a will.
Sylvia stood beside her father, her face one big sparkle, while a more subdued, but equally rapturous, gleam shone from the doctor"s eye as he gazed on the adored child from whom he need never more be separated. The Captain stood opposite Hinpoha and gave her a long look as he touched her gla.s.s, as if he wished to fix every detail of her in his mind against the separation that was coming on the morrow; Slim also had his eyes turned toward Hinpoha as he clicked gla.s.ses with Gladys across the table.
Justice gave Katherine"s gla.s.s a little nudge as he touched it, to attract her attention, for she had her face turned away from him toward Sylvia; Sahwah"s eye had a far-away look as she matched with Migwan.
Nyoda and Sherry beamed impartially upon them all, and Hercules smacked his lips over his gla.s.s in the corner by himself. Hercules had abandoned his intention of dying, and announced that he was planning to get himself another goat, because life was too uneventful for a man of his vigor without something to fuss over and take up his time.
"And it all happened because Katherine forgot Nyoda"s name!" said Sahwah, setting her gla.s.s down.
"I wasn"t born in vain after all!" laughed Katherine, meeting Justice"s eye bent upon her in a close, quizzical scrutiny.
"Which goes to prove," said Nyoda, "that everything has its use in this world, even our shortcomings. Let"s celebrate that discovery. We have drunk to the memory of Uncle Jasper Carver and to the memory of Sylvia Warrington; we have drunk to the memory of the man who built Carver House with the secret pa.s.sage; we have one swallow of punch left. Let"s drink one more toast, not to the _memory_ of Katherine Adams, but to her _forgettory_!"
And amid a great shout of laughter the last toast was drunk.
THE END