Tabitha stopped abruptly on the stairs. "Oh, I can have Carrie all to myself tonight," she thought to herself, but as she opened her lips to speak, she saw Chrystobel's eyes fixed wistfully upon her own, and suddenly there rose before her a vision of her room-mate's self-sacrifice in electing to spend the holidays at school when she knew what pleasures would have been hers at her own beautiful home. She hesitated, looked at Carrie's eager face, read the longing in Bertha's eyes, saw its reflection in Grace and Vera, and answered, "I choose all of you. What are you going to do about it?"

"Draw lots, you dear little Christmas queen!" cried Bertha promptly.

"You are the most popular girl in school, Kitty Catt. Just see how we fight over you! Here are some slips of paper from our guessing game.

Take your turn. The two longest, the two middle and the two shortest are mates."

There on the stairs they drew their fate--Tabitha and Chrystobel, Grace and Bertha, Carrie and Vera. Then with a merry laugh over the result, they linked arms and marched up to bed, with one exception a little disappointed, perhaps, but happy nevertheless.

The lights went out, five pair of sleepy eyes closed in slumber, the great city grew still, but Tabitha lay awake in her narrow bed looking up into the star-lit sky with bright, sparkling, happy eyes which held no trace of sorrow or longing, as she whispered reverently:

"O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie!

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent hours go by."

She thought of all the joys the day had brought her, such unexpected pleasures that it seemed as if her heart would burst with gladness; she thought of the girls who had done so much to give her this beautiful holiday; she thought of the scene on the stairs, and of Bertha's words, which, without a particle of conceit, she felt were the truth; she thought of Tom away at college, and wondered if his holiday had been as delightful as hers; she thought of the friends at Silver Bow, of Aunt Maria in the East, of the stern father keeping lonely vigil on the desert, and here her thoughts lingered. Had he received the calendar she sent him, and was he glad? What had prompted him to buy her the lovely gifts the express box had contained? Was he, after all, growing to be like jolly Mr. Carson? His remembrance had been the crowning touch of the day. How could she ever thank him? An idea suddenly popped into her mind as if in answer to her question, but she frowned at it, shook her head, protested that she could never do such a thing, and then--she did it.

Creeping carefully, noiselessly out of bed, she threw a kimono over her nightgown, turned on the electric light, drew out writing materials and began her first letter to the father whom she did not know or understand.

"Dear Father," she wrote, "I take my pen in hand to try to express in a feeble measure my deep and sincere grat.i.tude for the many beautiful gifts you have sent me--

"Oh, rats!" The pen stopped its deliberate movements, the paper was roughly crumpled and flung into the waste basket. "That would make him sick with disgust. What in the world shall I say?

"Dear Father,--The Christmas box arrived this morning and its contents are greatly appreciated, I can a.s.sure you. How am I ever to thank you enough!--

"Certainly not by such a stilted scribble as that. Sounds as if I might be addressing the president of the a.s.sociated Charities. Oh, dear, it is such a piece of work to write to one's father! Carrie never has half the fuss; but then I don't suppose I would either if Dad was like Mr.

Carson--or Tom. That's it. I will just pretend I am writing to Tom; I can say anything to him. Here goes!

"Dear Dad,--The things arrived this morning, and they are--

"Shall I say 'bully'? Tom would, but that is a boy's word, and it is slang besides. Miss Pomeroy says a lady doesn't use slang. I will use 'great'. No, that isn't much better. Well, 'splendid' will do."

The busy pen went on scratching until the page was filled, then a second, a third, and still she had not finished. The clock struck midnight, then one; and with a flourish, Tabitha wrote at the bottom of the tenth closely scribbled page, "With love, Tabitha," sighed with weary satisfaction, folded the sheets neatly, and slipped them into an envelope just as Chrystobel's eyes opened and the surprised girl inquired sleepily, "Whatever are you doing, Kitty, up at this time of night?"

"Writing a letter."

"Couldn't you wait until morning?"

"No, dear, I have waited too long already," answered Tabitha, turning out the light and scrambling back into bed. "I _had_ to tell him how good everyone is to me, and how good he is, too."

CHAPTER XIX

A STRIKE!

The weeks vanished all too quickly to suit the black-eyed maid from the desert, and she often found herself wondering where the time went to, for before she realized it, winter had slipped away and spring was nearly gone. Now May was half over, and in another month school would be closed for the summer. Carrie was to spend her vacation on the Oregon farm with her grandmother, and Tabitha must return to the desert alone.

She sat swinging idly under the pepper trees, her Latin grammar on her knees, but with eyes staring off across the smooth lawn and beautiful shrubbery, thinking mournfully of the long, hot weeks on the burning desert before September would come again.

"I have hardly had a chance to say a word to Carrie all this year, and now after counting on three months alone with her in Silver Bow, she is going away for her vacation. That is always the way things happen with me. Some people have everything and others nothing." Half unconsciously she began to hum the tune Mrs. Vane had composed for _The Discontented b.u.t.tercup_; then realizing what she was singing, she laughed.

"Now aren't you ashamed of yourself, Tabitha Catt?" she exclaimed aloud.

"When you have the chance to go to boarding school and get an education, and make so many beautiful friendships and have everything so perfectly lovely, here you are envying Carrie because she is going to her grandmother's for vacation. She isn't well, and it wouldn't be good for her to go back to the desert for the hot summer months. Besides, you promised to be good and not to envy people any more. You are a discontented b.u.t.tercup.

'Look bravely up into the sky, And be content with knowing That G.o.d wished for a b.u.t.tercup Just here, where you are growing.'"

"What's that about a b.u.t.tercup?" asked a merry voice behind her, so unexpectedly that Tabitha nearly fell out of the hammock. So intent had she been upon her own thoughts that she had not heard the tiptoeing footsteps on the soft gra.s.s, and was startled when Carrie plumped down beside her, and three or four other girls ranged themselves in comfortable positions in the fresh clover at their feet.

"How you frightened me!" cried the absorbed songstress, moving over to give Carrie more room. "Where have you been? You weren't in your rooms when I came down, so I slipped out here to study."

"About b.u.t.tercups?" teased Bertha, tickling her throat with a long gra.s.s. "If you had gone up to the third floor you would have found us all in Hattie's room, admiring the watch she just got for her birthday.

Have you seen it?"

"No, I was just finishing a letter when she called us, and by the time I was ready to go, you had all disappeared. I forgot she had changed her room."

"Oh," cried Carrie abruptly, "here is a letter for you! We stopped at your room as we came down and you weren't in, so I brought it along. I got one from papa, too, and what do you think? There has been a strike on the Tom Cat!"

A burst of laughter from the girls on the gra.s.s greeted this remark, and even Tabitha joined in, though the unusual piece of news made her heart beat fast and her eyes glow with an eagerness she could not suppress.

"When--how big--" she began, but Ca.s.sandra interrupted with the puzzled question, "What did they strike the tomcat for and who did it?"

"The Tom Cat is the name of a claim Kitty's father owns, and when there is a strike on a mining claim, it means that gold or silver has been found," explained Carrie patiently. "Silver Bow is a silver mining camp, but the Cat Group is about thirty miles from there and it has gold on it. Papa says the vein they have uncovered is very rich and promises to be a big one. They have offered your father a fortune for just that one claim, but he won't sell. He will be a rich man now, Puss. Aren't you glad?"

Tabitha sat in a daze, hardly daring to believe her ears. Could it be after all these years her father was to find wealth again, or was it all a dream?

"Well, you are the queerest girl!" declared Chrystobel, who was watching her curiously. "If anyone had told me my father had found a gold mine, I should jump up and down and shout, and then write for some more money right away. You can have everything you want now, can't you?"

Chrystobel had secretly pitied Tabitha because her monthly allowance of pocket money was so small, and she did not understand how anyone could receive the good news with such a calmly disinterested air. But Tabitha was not disinterested in the least. She was simply too busy with her thoughts to notice that her companions evidently expected some demonstration on her part in view of the astonishing news. Carrie was the only one who understood, and she explained,

"Kitty is so surprised she doesn't know what to say, do you, Puss?

Better open your letter and see what they write you about it. Is it from Mrs. Vane?"

Tabitha's letter had remained unnoticed in her lap where Carrie had tossed it, but now she lifted it, and inspected the envelope before replying, "No, it is from Tom. Why--I--I--think I--won't read it just now."

Her flushed face had paled, and she caught her breath sharply, for the letter was post-marked Silver Bow instead of Reno; but without further comment she slipped it into her Latin Book and joined in the gay chatter with her companions, a secret fear tugging at her heart.

Sometime later, after successfully eluding the laughing group, she stole away to her room, locked the door, and tore open the envelope with hands that trembled so violently she could scarcely control them, whispering to herself, "What can Tom be doing at home? College doesn't close for a month yet. I wonder if his money is all gone, and he can't finish the term. Or has Dad sent for him to help out in the mine? No, he wouldn't do that, surely."

She spread the rattling paper out on the table, and with difficulty spelled out the scrawl written with pencil and evidently in much haste.

The message was brief:

Dear Puss:--I suppose you have already heard the good news of the strike on Dad's claims. I meant to have written you about it before, but have been too busy. The vein is larger than at first appeared, and quite rich; but of course we can't tell yet whether it is more than a pocket. We think it is a sure-enough vein, however.

In timbering a shaft which threatened to cave in, Dad was hurt, and they sent for me. We have him at the house, for he refused to be taken to the Miners' Hospital. I am glad it happened so near the end of the college year. If he gets along all right, I can take the examinations I must miss now in September, and go along with the work of the cla.s.s next year. When will your school be out? I don't think you have ever said. I suppose you are busy now getting ready for examinations--or don't you have such things there? Don't study _too_ hard, Puss, and don't be alarmed about Dad.

With love, TOM.

The letter fluttered unheeded to the floor, and Tabitha, having read anxiety between the lines, sat in a brown study.

Dad hurt, Tom at home, Aunt Maria in the East! She was only a little girl, but she could help a great deal around the house, and maybe--maybe she could be of a.s.sistance in the sick-room. She shuddered at this thought, for fear of her father was still strong in her heart. But she could not shirk her duty; she must go home. She gathered up the letter, stole out of the room and down to the princ.i.p.al's office, where she found Miss Pomeroy still at work at her desk.