"Well, what is the wonder you have to show me? I confess I am curious.
Have you found another history you didn"t know belonged to us, or has one of that missing bunch turned up?"
"Yes, no; it"s a Bible." There was a sc.r.a.ping among the branches and through the parted leaves Tom saw a huge volume hanging on a bough in some mysterious manner.
"Goodness gracious, Puss! How did you get that thing out there?"
"I did have quite a time of it," confessed the child, tugging at the heavy book to keep it from slipping out of her hands to the ground below, and at the same time trying to balance herself on the smooth bough. "I guess you will have to pull it in the window again. I have broken its back getting it out here."
"What will Dad say?"
"It was thrown out among the stuff we are going to leave here, so I guess he won"t care. I"d like to take it, though, Tom, for it has the loveliest names in it. Just listen here,--"Theodora Marcella Folwell"--ain"t that grand? And here"s another, "Gabrielle Flora Folwell"--"
"What in the world are you reading?" asked the puzzled boy, craning his neck out of the window to see what sort of a Bible it could be with such names as these in it.
"Aunt Maria said it was an old Bible that we"ve carted around for years and it is such a nuisance to move that they don"t mean to pack it this time at all. There are a lot of names in the back and some awfully homely pictures. I rubbed my finger on one and it smooched the nose clear off and blurred both eyes, but he wasn"t good looking anyway. It isn"t much worse now. On one page it says "Births," and on another "Deaths," and on the third "Marriages.""
"Oh!" Tom was suddenly enlightened. "Hold the book fast now and I"ll come down where you are and get it. Don"t fall."
His instructions were unnecessary. Tabitha"s legs were curled around the big bough so tightly that it would have taken a cyclone to dislodge her, and the mammoth Bible hung suspended by its broken back from an adjacent branch in such a fashion that as long as its heavy binding held it could not fall. But it took considerable effort to haul it up into the house again, and this was finally accomplished only after Tabitha had crawled back through the window to tug at it from above, while Tom pushed at it from below, swaying and b.u.mping in the sycamore until both children held their breath for fear boy and Bible would land in a heap on the ground.
"There!" breathed Tabitha with a sigh of relief when at last the volume lay safe on the wide window-sill. "Now you can see all the names yourself. I never heard such grand ones before. How do you p.r.o.nounce A-m-a-r-i-a-h? And here"s a perfectly beautiful one D-i-o-n-y-s-i-u-s Carpenter. It has him down under the marriages with Pen-e-lope Miranda Folwell. Don"t you think that is pretty? They are all so different from John and Frank and--and--Thomas and Tabitha. I wish I could pick out a pretty name for my very own and have folks call me that always. Don"t you?"
Tom was intently studying the records penned in faded ink on the yellow pages, and now he raised his head and looked into the eager black eyes upturned to his, as he said slowly,
"Puss, this must be the family Bible that belonged to Mother"s folks. I can remember Dad used to call her Dora, and I have an old letter I found in a book a long time ago that has the name Folwell on it. Yes, here"s the record. See, Puss? "Theodora Marcella Folwell and Lynne Maximilian Catt, married Sept. 10th, 18--," it"s blurred so I can"t read the rest of it. But that must be Dad. His name is Maximilian, you know, though I never heard the Lynne part of it before."
"Lynne," repeated Tabitha, half to herself. "That might be a pretty name if it belonged to anyone but a Catt man. Lynne Catt--hm! Lean cat.
That"s what everybody would call him. I bet that"s why he used his middle name. I"d rather be nicknamed "Manx cat" than to be called "lean cat," wouldn"t you? "Skinny, scrawny Tabby Catt"--that"s what they call me, Tom. My name might as well have been "Lynne.""
"Never mind, Puss. When we get moved to Silver Bow, people won"t know about that rhyme."
"Maybe they will think up something worse yet. It was bad enough to have the children of Conroy sing, "Once there was a little kitty," and then the folks at Dover used to say, "p.u.s.s.y cat, p.u.s.s.y cat, where have you been?" It gets worse every place we go."
Her lip quivered suspiciously, and Tom hastily changed the subject by asking, "What would you choose for a name if you could take your pick of all the pretty ones you ever heard?"
Tabitha drew a long breath, shook the black hair out of her eyes, folded her lean brown arms across the nightgown, which looked considerably the worse for her climb in the sycamore tree, and hesitated.
"A name could have more than one part, couldn"t it?" she finally asked.
"I suppose so; most people have more than one."
"Well, it"s rather hard to choose, for I have heard so many names, though never any as grand as these in the Bible. Even "Rosalie" isn"t so grand; do you think so? I--believe--I"d--like--to be called"--Tom waited expectantly as she shifted from foot to foot and tried to make the important decision.--"Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victoria Emeline. Say, Tom, will you call me that? Just when we"re alone, of course, so Dad wouldn"t hear it."
Tom caught his breath as if a dash of cold water had suddenly struck his face. "Gracious, Puss! I never could remember all that. Say it again, can you?"
"Of course! That"s easy, and _so_ pretty. Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victoria Emeline. Why, it sounds just like a princess, Tom! I believe I could be good and not get mad all the time if I had a name like that. I _know_ I could. I wouldn"t envy Rosalie Meywood one bit.
Don"t you think that is a perfectly grand name, Tom?"
Tom bit his lip to keep from laughing as he soberly answered, "Tip-top, Puss. I"ll call you that sometimes--that is, as much of it as I can remember, if you want me to; just in play, you know. Won"t Dora be enough?"
"Oh no! Why, that"s hardly any of it. Dora is a pretty name, but Theodora is _grand_. If you forget part of it, remember the Theodora Gabrielle part. That is the best of it. Wouldn"t you like to have me call you something else besides Tom? There are some awfully nice boys"
names written in that Bible. Which did you think were the grandest?"
"Oh, I like Ulysses first rate. That was Gen. Grant"s name, you know, and he was a trump. He made some regular splendid fights."
Tabitha was evidently disappointed at his selection, and he hastily asked, "What do you think is the best name for a boy?"
"The _grandest_ name I think is Di--what did you call it? Dionysius?
Wouldn"t Dionysius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn be splendid? Or would you like some more? There are six parts to my name--"
"Oh, no," Tom interrupted hastily. "That is long enough for me. Men don"t need as many names as girls, I reckon. You may have to remind me what my name is to be, for I am afraid I shall always be forgetting it.
Suppose we shorten it to Ulysses. You cut yours down a little, you know."
"That was just so you could remember it, and as I have to do the remembering of your name anyway, I reckon I will call you the whole thing. It"s a heap prettier than Thomas Catt."
"Well, all right, Puss; but don"t think about it so much that you will call me that when Dad is around. He won"t like it. I think I will keep this Bible, though. Don"t tell. I can put it in the bottom of the old trunk where I keep my things and no one will ever know but you."
So he marched away with the precious volume under his arm, and Tabitha crawled happily into bed to dream of grand names and a happy future in the unknown home where they were going.
CHAPTER III
TABITHA ADOPTS HER NEW NAME
"What"s your name?"
Tabitha wheeled with a start, lost her balance, and toppled off the great rock to the hard ground, where she lay staring up at the fair-haired stranger bending over her with anxiety and alarm filling the pretty blue eyes.
"Are you hurt?" inquired the soft voice. "I didn"t mean to make you jump. I"m lonesome and when you moved in the nearest house to ours I was glad to think there was another girl about my size, for maybe you will play with me. Will you?"
Still Tabitha made no reply, but lay as she had fallen, not daring to trust her ears or believe her eyes--it was not unusual for anyone to make friendly advances toward her, though she had longed all her lonely little life for a playmate. Why, it couldn"t be possible! They were on the desert now in a forlorn little mining town located in a hollow between two mountain ranges and straggling over a vast area of barren, rocky hills, with not a tree in sight anywhere, except the ugly, uncompromising yuccas, and they could scarcely be dignified by the name of trees. Nothing but sagebrush, greasewood, mesquite and cactus; not even a sprill of gra.s.s!
To poor homesick Tabitha it seemed as if they had dropped off the earth into nowhere. She had never seen such a place in all her life, nor even dreamed that towns like that existed. Wherever they had gone heretofore, there had always been trees and flowers, which in a measure took the place of the friends she had never known but always missed. Now there was not even to be this solace; how could there be any friends?
So she remained silent and the little blue-eyed girl was puzzled, almost frightened. Then a bright idea came to her.
"Are you an Indian?" she asked timidly, wondering if she had better run, supposing the black-eyed child should prove to be the daughter of a redman.
"No, I ain"t an Indian!" Tabitha bounced on the ground with a startling suddenness that froze the other child in her tracks.
Poor Tabitha! Tormented ever since she could remember because of her unfortunate name, and now to be called an Indian! She had sprung to her feet with fists clenched and eyes blazing, yet somehow she seemed to understand that this plump little body was different from the teasing children who had made the days miserable for her wherever she went, and she could not strike the avenging blow. But the insult, unintentional as it evidently was, rankled bitterly nevertheless; and dropping to the ground again, she hid her face in her faded skirts.
Instantly two soft arms slipped around her and she heard the gentle voice saying sorrowfully, "Oh, please don"t cry, little girl! I didn"t mean to make you mad. Of course you aren"t an Indian, "cause your hair curls some, and Indians have awful straight, stiff hair, and they are redder than you are. I guess you"ve lived on the desert until you are real brown."
"I never lived on the desert before, and I hate it, hate it, hate it!
Almost as bad as I do Dad! I ain"t crying, and I ain"t mad--at you."