Tabitha's Vacation

"'Ho, ho, vacation days are here,

We welcome them with right good cheer;

In wisdom's halls we love to be,

But yet 'tis pleasant to be free,'"

warbled Tabitha Catt, pausing on the doorstep of her little desert home as she vigorously shook a dingy dusting cloth, and hungrily sniffed the fresh, sweet morning air, for, although the first week of June was already gone, the fierce heat of the summer had not yet descended upon Silver Bow, nestling in its cup-like hollow among the Nevada mountains.

"'Ho, ho, the hours will quickly fly,

And soon vacation time be by;

Ah, then we'll all in glad refrain,

Sing welcome to our school again.'"

piped up a sweet voice in muffled accents from the depths of the closet where the singer was rummaging to find hooks for her wardrobe, which lay scattered rather promiscuously about Tabitha's tiny bedroom.

"Why, Gloriana Holliday, where did you learn that?" demanded the girl on the threshold, abruptly ceasing her song. "It's as old as the hills. Mrs. Carson used to sing it when she went to school."

"So did my mother. I've got her old music book with the words in it," responded her companion, emerging from the dark closet, flushed but triumphant. "There! I've hung up the last dud I could find room for. The rest must go back in the trunk, I guess. My, but it does seem nice to have a few weeks of vacation, doesn't it?"

"One wouldn't think so to hear you carolling about school's beginning again," laughed Tabitha, shaking her finger reprovingly at the red-haired girl now busily collecting the remainder of her scattered property and bundling it into a half-empty trunk just outside the kitchen door.

Gloriana echoed the laugh, and then answered seriously, "But really, I have never been glad before to see vacation come. It always meant only hard work and worry, gathering fruit in the hot sun or digging vegetables and peddling them around from door to door; while school meant books and lessons and a chance to rest a bit, and the last two years it meant Miss Angus, who did not mind my red hair and crutches."

"But it is all different now," Tabitha interrupted hastily, shuddering at the gloomy picture her companion's words had called up. "You are my sister now, and there won't be any more goats and gardens to bother about. You have left off using one crutch altogether, and don't need the other except out of doors. We are going to have a lovely vacation, and you won't want school to begin at all in September."

"Yes, it is all different now, Kitty Catt, thanks to dear old you!" agreed the younger girl, giving the slender figure in the doorway an affectionate hug. "And I suppose I shall be as daffy about this queer desert place as you are by the time Ivy Hall opens its doors again--"

"Aha!" triumphed Tabitha. "Then you don't like it now, do you? I never could get you to admit it last winter."

"I haven't admitted it yet," Gloriana retorted spiritedly. "It looks so much different in the summer time, but still seems queer to me with its heaps of rocks and no trees except the stiff old Joshuas. I wonder why they are called that. Even they don't seem like trees to me. They look like giant cactus plants, and just as cruel."

"They have beautiful blossoms," Tabitha interrupted. "We are a little too late to see them, though many of the other desert flowers are still in bloom. Look across that stretch beyond the river road. Isn't it pretty with its red and yellow carpet? May is the month to see the desert in its glory, though. Then it is truly beautiful. No one could think it ugly. But come, let's run over to Mercy's house. We have swept and dusted, and you have finished unpacking. This is our second day at home and I haven't been near to inquire how Mr. McKittrick is. He was hurt before Christmas, so we never went there during the holidays, you remember."

"Where do they live?"

"Why, I showed you the place-that queer brown house perched up---"

"Oh, yes, on that great shelf of rock, overlooking the railway station."

"The first house we see on our way up here from the depot. Mr. McKittrick always called it the Eagles' Nest, and his children the eaglets."

"What a pretty idea! How many eaglets are there besides Mercedes and the little boy you named?"

"Four other girls. Mercy is the oldest of the family. Then come Susanne, or Susie, as they call her; the twins, Inez and Irene; Rosslyn and the baby, Janie."

"That's quite a family. What nice times they must have together!" sighed Gloriana wistfully, thinking of her own orphaned life with no brothers or sisters with whom to make merry.

"Yes, I reckon they are a pretty lively bunch sometimes, for Susie is as wild as Mercedes is quiet; and Inez should have been her twin instead of Irene's. Janie is a regular little mischief, too, but such a darling! You are sure to love her, though Rosslyn is my favorite. Put on your hat and let's go down before dinner. Daddy won't be home until evening, and there is nothing to keep us here."

Seizing her sunbonnet from its peg by the door, Tabitha started up the path toward town with Gloriana hobbling along at her side, when they saw Mercedes, with roguish Janie and chubby Rosslyn in tow, coming down the slope toward them. Her round, serious eyes looked heavy and worried, her childish face pale and frightened; but at sight of the two approaching figures, a smile of relief suddenly curved the drooping lips, and she exclaimed eagerly, "Oh, girls, I was just going for you! Are you on the way to our house? Oh, please say yes! Something dreadful has happened, I'm sure, for mamma has sent us all out-doors, and is in the kitchen crying fit to kill. She won't say what's the matter, and I'm horribly scared. I never saw her cry before."

Tabitha's face paled instantly. "I wonder-" she began, then stopped. How could she put her thought into words when Mercedes was already so dreadfully frightened? "Has the doctor been to see your father this morning?" she asked.

"Yes. He stayed ever so long and talked to mamma in the kitchen. I am afraid papa is worse, for 'twas right after the doctor was gone that she began to cry so hard."

Tabitha turned to Gloriana. "I'll run on ahead," she said, "if you don't mind. You can follow more slowly with Mercedes. I-perhaps it would be better if I saw Mrs. McKittrick alone first."

"All right," agreed Glory, who, like Tabitha, was wondering if the message the doctor had delivered in the Eagles' Nest that morning had left the little mother without a ray of hope; and so she fell in step beside the anxious Mercedes, and began to chat in spritely, diverting tones while Tabitha sped swiftly up the narrow, winding path to the lonely-looking, little, brown house perched on the steep mountainside.

Arriving at the door breathless and panting, she hesitated a moment before knocking, suddenly aware that she had not the slightest idea of what she intended to say or do. A glimpse through the screen of a huddled figure bowed despairingly over the kitchen table drove every other thought from her mind, however, and flinging open the door, she ran lightly across the room and impulsively laid her hand upon the quivering shoulders.

"Mercedes, must I tell you again-" began the muffled voice of the distracted woman, as she impatiently shook off the hand resting on her arm.

"It isn't Mercedes," Tabitha interrupted. "It is I-Tabitha. I don't know what is the matter, but if you will tell me, perhaps I can be of some use, even if I am only a girl."

Mrs. McKittrick lifted a red, swollen face from her arms outstretched on the table, glanced in surprise at the black-eyed girl bending so sympathetically above her, and once more burst into a flood of tears, sobbing wildly, "It ain't any use, Tabitha! You couldn't help if you was a woman grown. No one can help. The doctor says-" The choking words died on her lips. She could not bear to repeat the doctor's verdict.

"That Mr. McKittrick is worse?" whispered Tabitha.

The bowed head nodded despairingly.

"Surely he isn't going to--"

"Die?" cried the woman wildly. "Yes, he must die unless we can get him out of here. The only hope is an operation. That means Los Angeles, a hospital, a nurse, and hundreds of dollars; and not a cent coming in from anywhere. The children are too young to earn, and I can't work with him to nurse and six youngsters to care for. Oh, it does seem as if troubles never come singly! Whatever we are going to do is more than I know. The whole world has turned upside down!"

Gravely Tabitha nodded her head. Only a year before as she had stood beside the bed of her father, fighting what seemed like a hopeless battle with death, she, too, had felt that despairing helplessness. "If only Dr. Vane were here!" she whispered fervently.

"I don't believe he could do a bit more for the man than Dr. Hayes is doing. He'd just say the same thing, and there wouldn't be any more money than there is now to carry out his orders."

In vain Tabitha sought to comfort and cheer the despondent soul, but seemed only to make matters worse, and at length, disheartened at her apparent failure, she stole away from the brown house on the bluff, and with Gloriana following silently at her heels, set out for home. Not a word passed between them as they hastened down the main street of the town, until, just as they reached the dingy telegraph station, the sound of the busy, clattering key caused Tabitha to halt abruptly and a gleam of determination to flash over her sober, worried face.

"That's what!" she exclaimed joyfully. "I'll do it! Mr. Carson will fix everything. 'Twas in his mine that McKittrick was hurt."

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" asked bewildered Gloriana, unable to follow Tabitha's thoughts, and wondering what errand was taking her into the low, dimly lighted shack from which issued the monotonous, nervous, clicking sound which had attracted Tabitha's attention.

"To telegraph Mr. Carson. If he knew how badly off Mr. McKittrick is, he would send him inside in a minute."

"Inside?"

"To Los Angeles, I mean. People here on the desert call that 'inside,' though I never could see why. Please, Mr. Goodwin, give me a blank. I want to send a telegram."

The man behind the counter supplied her with the necessary materials, and stood waiting curiously for the message to be written. But another idea had occurred to Tabitha, and turning away from the operator with the blank in her hand, she whispered to Gloriana in dismay, "I don't dare telegraph. Mr. Goodwin is a worse gossip than any old maid I ever knew, and he'd tell it all over town before noon!"

"Then write a letter."

"It takes nearly a week for mail to travel that far. It might be too late by-I've got it! How will this do?"

Rapidly she scribbled a few hasty words on the slip in her hands and passed it to Gloriana, who read in amazement this queer scrawl:

"Wire five hundred silver headed eagles. Must get rich quick. Ask Carrie to translate. Letter follows.

Tabitha Catt."

"That is more than ten words, but I can't help it. I'm willing to pay for it if it does the work."

"But, Kitty, what does it mean?" asked mystified Gloriana, privately thinking it the silliest piece of nonsense she had ever heard of. "Will he know what you want?"

"Carrie will. We used to write notes to each other in cipher when we were little. We called it cipher. Of course it was all utter nonsense, but I am sure she will remember."

"It doesn't sound-sensible-to me," Gloriana confessed. "I suppose five hundred silver headed eagles means five hundred dollars, but what is that about getting rich?"

Tabitha laughed gleefully. "Rosslyn McKittrick was a long time learning to say his own name when he was a baby," she explained. "As near as he could get it, 'twas 'Russ Getrich.' Mr. Carson was superintendent of the Silver Legion then, instead of one of the owners, and as Mr. McKittrick was working there when Rosslyn was born, the miners made him their mascot, and Mr. Carson used to tease him by calling him 'Must get rich quick.' I couldn't write 'McKittrick' in the telegram without Goodwin suspecting what I am up to; so I did the next best thing I could think of."

"But-" It all still seemed so ridiculous to the red-haired girl.

"You think he will wonder if I am crazy?" Tabitha had read the look of doubt in her companion's face, and correctly surmised what she was thinking. "Perhaps he will, but I don't believe so. He is quick to understand things. Now we will skip back to the post-office and I'll scratch him a letter of explanation, so it will go out with to-day's mail. Then if he shouldn't translate the telegram correctly-well, the letter will get there as soon as possible afterward."

As she spoke, she delivered the written message to the waiting operator, smiled with satisfaction at his look of baffled curiosity and bewilderment, and assuring him that it was worded exactly as she wanted it sent, she left the dingy office confident that the queer cipher would bring the desired results. Nor was she mistaken.

Early the next morning Mercedes came flying excitedly down the path to the Catt cottage, and, without the formality of knocking, burst into the kitchen where the two girls were busy washing up the breakfast dishes.

"Oh, Kitty! Gloriana!" she cried, half laughing, half sobbing with sheer delight. "Guess what's happened! Mr. Carson has sent mamma some money to take papa to Los Angeles. Now he can get well. That is what has been worrying her so much. The doctor said he would die unless he was operated on and mamma hadn't the money to get it done. They are to start to-morrow. Mamma's going, too. Doctor says every minute counts, and he has telegraphed to the hospital to make arrangements already."

She paused, all out of breath, to mop her steaming forehead; and Tabitha, studying the flushed, shining face, wondered that she had ever thought Mercedes McKittrick dull and homely.

"Isn't that fine?" she heard Gloriana saying, as heartily as if she had not known anything about the telegram before. "What are the rest of you going to do while your mother is away? You children, I mean."

"That's how I happened to come here," Mercedes replied, her eyes losing some of their glow as she recalled her errand in that part of the town. "Mamma sent me down to Miss Davis' house with a note, but she isn't there; and the woman next door says she has gone to Riverside for two weeks. I s'pose we'll have to find someone else instead. But I was so near I couldn't help running on down to tell the news. I must be going now. There is lots to be done before train time to-morrow, and mamma'll need me."

"We will come up and help her pack as soon as we get the house righted," Tabitha found tongue to say. "She mustn't get too tired before she starts."

So Mercedes raced away again, and a few moments later the two busy little housekeepers in the hollow locked up their orderly cottage and followed more slowly up to the Eagles' Nest on the bluff.

"Where can the children be?" Tabitha's expectant eyes searched in vain for a glimpse of the noisy, lively brood of 'eaglets,' who usually saw her coming a long way off, and met her half-way down the mountainside with a boisterous shout of welcome. To-day, however, not one of the sextette was in sight about the queer little brown house, and the whole place wore a deserted air.

"Maybe they have gone visiting so Mrs. McKittrick can look after her packing unmolested," suggested Gloriana, letting her keen gray eyes sweep the steep, rocky incline for some sign of the youthful McKittricks, but with no better result.

"That must be it," concluded Tabitha, "though I should have thought-why, Mercedes, Susie! What is the matter?"

Coming suddenly around the corner of a huge boulder where the children often played house, the two girls almost tumbled over a row of the most woe-begone, utterly miserable looking figures they had ever seen,-Mercedes, Susie, Inez, Irene, Rosslyn and Janie, all seated on a broad, flat rock as stiff as marble statues, and with faces almost as stony and staring.

"Why, children!" echoed Gloriana, equally amazed. "What are you doing here? What has happened?"

"Mamma is crying again," whispered Mercedes, dabbing savagely at a tear which suddenly brimmed over and splashed down the end of her nose.

"She says she won't go and leave us alone with Mercy," gulped Susanne, striving hard to keep the telltale quiver out of her voice.

"And there ain't money enough to go and take us all," supplemented Inez, who had earned the title of "Susie's shadow," because she preferred the society of her older sister to that of her quiet twin.

"Miss Davis has gone away and won't be back until it's too late," mourned gentle Irene, gazing sorrowfully down toward the low station house on the flats below.

"Mrs. Goodale's gone, too, and there ain't nobody else to housekeep for us," Rosslyn added plaintively, "'cept Mercy."

"But we'd be ist as dood as anjils wiv Mercy," lisped little Janie dejectedly, seeming to comprehend the tragedy of the situation as well as did the older children.

Slowly Tabitha turned toward her companion. Gloriana's gray eyes bravely met the questioning glance of the black ones. "Would your father--"

"Our father," Tabitha mechanically corrected her.

"Our father let you-us, I mean?"

"All summer, if he thought we wanted to; but it won't be that long."

"Only two weeks."

"Until Miss Davis gets back-or Mrs. Goodale."

"Do you think Mrs. McKittrick would leave the--"

"I don't know," confessed the older girl in worried accents. "It's a chance for him. I believe she'll take it. I'm sure we are old enough."

"And know enough about keeping house."

"They would be perfectly safe with us two."

"Supposing we ask her."

Impulsively, Tabitha started for the house with Gloriana at her heels; and the children, though not understanding the drift of the conversation they had just overheard, fell in behind the two, and marched in solemn procession up the path, feeling sure that something was about to happen which would clear away the heavy cloud of despair hovering over their household.

Again Mrs. McKittrick was sitting beside the battered kitchen table with her head on her arms as they had found her the day before, but this time Tabitha did not hesitate. Breathlessly, excitedly, she began, almost before she was inside the house:

"Oh, Mrs. McKittrick, Mercy has told us all about it-how Miss Davis and Mrs. Goodale are away and you can't find anyone to leave the children with. But you mustn't stay here on that account! Glory and I will take charge of the house. Really, we know how to cook and can manage splendidly, I'm sure, if you will let us try. Miss Davis will soon be back and then she can look after everything. Two weeks isn't very long. No harm can come to us in that time, I know. We'd love to do it. Say you will go. It means so much to you--"

She had not intended to say just that, but misreading the look of wondering surprise in the tear-stained face lifted to hers, she blundered, hesitated, and stood silent and distressed in the middle of the floor, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, and looking so much like the frank, outspoken, bungling Tabitha of old, that Mrs. McKittrick could not refrain from laughing. It was an odd, hysterical, little laugh, to be sure, more pathetic than mirthful, but it relieved the sharp tension of the situation; and Gloriana, quick to take advantage of auspicious moments, broke in, "All you need to do is to say yes. We will be model housekeepers and take the best of care of the family."

"But-but-what about your father? He won't listen to such a plan, I'm sure."

"Now, don't you fret about that!" cried Tabitha joyfully, regarding the battle as good as won. "Daddy won't care a mite! Two weeks is such a little time. He will be glad to have us come."

"I believe-I better-take Janie. She is so small, and--"

"I believe you better not!" the black-eyed girl laughingly retorted. "She would be dreadfully in your way, no matter how good she is; and you want to be free to take care of your-patient. Now, where is your trunk? What clothes do you need to take? If you will tell us where to find things, we will begin to pack at once while you are getting the house settled the way you want to leave it, and writing out your orders."

"'Cause we'll be ist as dood as anjils," lisped Janie, as the procession, at a signal from Mercedes, quietly trooped forth into the June sunshine once more, and, with radiant faces and happy hearts, skipped down to their boulder playhouse to celebrate.