“I can not.  My father would not allow it.  He will not even let me go back to school.  He says that I am an Indian, and that I must stay in Acoma and be an Indian.”

When Mrs. Coolidge saw that look of eager desire leap into Barbara’s eyes she determined that the thing should be brought to pass and set herself to the task of overcoming old Ambrosio’s determination that his daughter should never again leave Acoma.  It was not an easy thing to do, but Colonel Kate finally accomplished it, on condition that Barbara should return whenever he wished her to do so.

During the remaining days of Lent, dressmakers were busy with Barbara’s wardrobe; and Mrs. Coolidge carefully schooled her in a hundred little particulars of manner and deportment.  And meanwhile the Select of Santa Fe waited with impatience for a first view of the Indian girl.  For Colonel Kate was too shrewd a manager to discount the sensation she intended to produce, and so she kept Barbara at home, away from the front doors and windows, and out of sight of curious callers.  In the meantime she diplomatically helped on the growing interest and excitement, and lost no opportunity of arousing curiosity about her protegee.

And at last, when Barbara had been three weeks in her home, and no one outside her own household had even seen the girl’s face; when the town was full of rumors and chatter and all manner of romantic stories about the Indian girl; when everybody was wondering what she could be like, and why Colonel Kate had taken such a fancy to her, then Mrs. Coolidge gave her a coming-out party which eclipsed everything in Santa Fe’s social annals.

All the Select were there, including the Colonel’s wife, who had not even thought of trying to have a card party the same night.  The doors had been opened wide, also, for the Unassorted.  All the most eligible of these had received invitations, and not one had sent regrets.  The editor of The Blast, which was the mouthpiece of the Governor’s party, and the editor of The Bugle, the organ of the opposition, were both there; and each of them published a glowing account of the occasion, the former because he considered it his duty to “stand in” with whatever concerned the Governor; and the latter because he hoped the Governor’s wife would make it possible for him to be transferred from the Unassorted to the Select.

The Blast said:  “The Governor’s palatial mansion was a dream of Oriental magnificence, and the beautiful and artistic placita, lighted by sparkling eyes of ladies fair and Japanese lanterns, was a vision of fairy land.” The Bugle declared:  “No, not even in the marble drawing-rooms of Fifth Avenue and adjoining streets, nor in the luxurious mansions of Washington, could be gathered together a more cultured, a more polished, a more interesting, a more recherche assemblage than that which filled the Governor’s palatial residence and vied with one another in doing homage to the winsome Indian maiden.”