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 grass!
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."
Tabitha lifted her head and the other child saw two very bright, black,
beautiful eyes in the thin tanned face, but the tears she expected to
see were not there.
They sat and stared at each other in silence a moment and then the
strange girl said, "My name is Carrie Carson. What's yours?"
"Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victoria Emeline Catt."
Carrie gasped. So did Tabitha, but for a different reason. Carrie was
amazed at the length of the name and the ease with which its owner spoke
it. Tabitha was astonished to think the idea of dropping her own
obnoxious name and adopting a new one had never occurred to her before.
No thought of deception ever entered her mind; she merely hated
"Tabitha" with all the strength of her passionate nature; she had found
a name that filled her with delight; she had adopted it at first in
play, but it had become very real to her, and now as she spoke the words
that were so beautiful to her, it seemed as if they belonged to her.
"How do you ever remember them all?" asked Carrie. "Must people use that
whole long name when they speak to you?"
"Not unless they want to," answered Tabitha with restored composure.
"Theodora Gabrielle is enough."
"Well, Theodora Gabrielle, have you got any sisters?"
"No, only one brother, To-- Dionysius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn."
"My! what long names you do have in your family! Will you say it again,
please? I couldn't quite make it out."
So Tabitha repeated the words slowly, adding, "_I_ always call him all
of them, but he would just as soon folks would call him Ulysses. He was
named after General Grant who fought in the Civil War. To-- Dionysius
Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn taught me how to read, 'cause we move so much
that sometimes we miss a lot of school, and I've gone clear through the
United States history. Have you?"
"Mercy, no!" ejaculated Carrie in astonishment. "I'm not through with
geography yet."
"Oh, I don't s'pose I am, either, but we have three histories and no
geographies at our house, so I couldn't read up geography. To-- Dionysius
Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn explains when I don't understand, and he
draws maps to show how the battles were fought. We learn poetry about
fights, too. To-- my brother is going to be a soldier when he gets big."
The name with which she had so generously supplied her brother was
becoming very hard to manage, and she sat silently eyeing her bare feet
while she tried in vain to think of some way out of the dilemma. She had
told Carrie that she always called her brother his full name. What could
she do but prove it?
Carrie's voice interrupted her meditations. "Don't you hate to speak
before people--I mean, speak pieces? It always scares me so I forget
half of my verses and then papa is so disappointed. Mamma always says,
'Never mind, dearie,
'If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again.'
So I keep on trying and maybe some day I can remember them all right."
"Oh, I just love to speak!" Tabitha cried. "I've just learned _Barbara
Fritchie_, and it is _grand_!
"'who touches a hair in yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!' he said."
Carrie clapped her hands. "Oh, say the whole of it, Theodora Gabrielle,
please!"
So Tabitha flew to the top of the rock from which she had been surveying
the waste of desert when Carrie had first put in appearance, and with
ringing voice declaimed the stirring words to her admiring audience.
That was the beginning of the first real friendship poor Tabitha had
ever known, and the world that opened before her was a beautiful
fairyland. The Carson home was so unlike her own that unconsciously she
held her breath whenever she entered the big house where the
superintendent of the Silver Legion Mines lived, fearing that she might
wake up and find it after all only a dream--the sweet-faced mother who
kissed little Carrie every day, the smiling, genial father who always
had some pretty gift in his pocket for his only child, the dainty
furnishings of the big house which seemed so gorgeously splendid to the
neglected girl, and particularly the wonderful toys and story-books that
belonged to the flaxen-haired fairy who opened the door of this
wonderland for her to enter.
Having never known a mother's love herself, Tabitha regarded dainty
Mrs. Carson with a feeling of awe which deepened into worship as the
acquaintance progressed, but proved to be a great barrier between them
for a long time. She spoke of her in a hushed voice, treasured every
smile as if it had been some precious gem, and hungered for the caresses
so freely bestowed upon little Carrie, but feared to approach near
enough this beautiful goddess to receive them herself.
Mr. Carson she could understand better. He was another Tom grown up,
only where Tom was silent and shy, this man was jolly and friendly. He
laughed a great deal, said funny things, never teased little girls
except in a playful way that made one like to meet him, and was always
very, very kind. She never heard him say a cross word to anyone, and
once when she asked Carrie if he ever got mad and punished her, the
blue-eyed girl was very indignant.
"My papa is _never_ mad," she stoutly declared. "When I do naughty
things, he just looks so disappointed and says, 'I am so sorry,' in such
a way that it makes me sorry, too."
To Tabitha this seemed a very queer way for a father to act, but for big
brother Tom it was perfectly natural; so in her scale of relationship,
Mr. Carson slipped down a peg and became a brother, bringing him much
closer to her than he would otherwise have been, and making his
influence over her much greater.
At first the Carsons did not much favor the friendship that had sprung
up between the two girls, for Tabitha seemed so wild and passionate they
feared her association with their little daughter might not be for the
best; but by chance the superintendent met Tom one day in the surveyor's
office, where the boy had found employment running errands and doing
other odd jobs, and he was delighted with the unusual intelligence of
the lad, as well as with the ambition Tom had for an education.
Like Tabitha, Tom craved fellowship with understanding people, and his
appreciation of real kindness was as touching as it was keen. Mr. Carson
made inquiry concerning the boy, learned the unfortunate circumstances
of his starved life, and became his fast friend. So the two girls were
allowed to play together unrestricted, each helping the other
unconsciously in the building of character,--Carrie being taught
reliance and self-confidence, while Tabitha was learning to subdue the
fierceness of her untamed nature and to overcome her extreme
sensitiveness.
Though Mr. Carson knew the truth about the unhappy names of brother and
sister, he never so much as smiled, nor did he betray Tabitha's secret;
and while he never called Tom by the name she thought so grand, he
always addressed her as Theodora Gabrielle; and she was happy.
So for many precious weeks the world looked very bright to the
black-eyed girl. The father was miles away most of the time, prospecting
among the mountains; Aunt Maria seldom called her anything but Child;
Tom's pet name, when he forgot her grand title, was Puss; and she began
to think the hateful Tabitha was forever laid aside and forgotten.
The dreariness of the desert which had so oppressed her when they first
arrived in Silver Bow slipped from her; she forgot the lack of trees and
grass; the yuccas and Spanish bayonets lost their grimness; she grew to
like the queer place with its queer vegetation; and the sunrises and
sunsets were a source of intense delight to her, as they are to many
another soul--for where in all the world are there such beautiful cloud
pictures as on the desert with the mountains beyond, mysterious and
wonderful in their purple haze or in the glistening white of the snow?
The Catts arrived at Silver Bow only a few weeks before school began,
and owing to the fact that the cottage they had rented stood half hidden
from the rest of the town by one of the many hills, with only the Carson
house and a vacant bungalow for neighbors, Tabitha made the acquaintance
of none of the other children in town until the commencement of the fall
term. Usually this was an event to be dreaded by the sensitive girl, but
it was with a feeling almost of pleasure that Tabitha accompanied pretty
Carrie to the old weather-beaten schoolhouse of the mining camp the
first Monday of September for the opening session.
Tom was too far advanced for the branches taught in the little school,
so he was to remain with the surveyor and study in the evening under Mr.
Carson's direction; but he knew from former experience what a scene
Tabitha usually created before she could be persuaded to begin school
each year, and dreaded the ordeal almost as much as did the passionate
little sister.
Tabitha had confessed to Tom that Carrie called her by the wonderful
name, Theodora Gabrielle, but he thought it was just in play and
rejoiced that the superintendent's charming little daughter was so
friendly and kind. He was unusually busy with his own thoughts and
plans, for Mr. Carson had laid out a course of study for him by which he
might prepare himself for college, the goal of his ambitions; and the
world was looking very bright to him as well as to Tabitha, so perhaps
he was excusable if he day-dreamed a little. But he never forgave
himself for relaxing his vigilance over the small sister even in this
slight measure, for it cost her many hours of bitter anguish. If only he
had inquired about the name Tabitha had adopted, and discovered how real
it had become! But intent upon his own thoughts, he missed this part of
Tabitha's confession, and watched her set out for school hand in hand
with Carrie, serene in the belief that all was well, and happy at her
unexpected behavior in regard to school.
"Well, I'm beat!" Aunt Maria exclaimed as the two girls skipped joyously
up the path and disappeared over the summit of the hill. "I thought sure
she'd raise a fuss, but she never said a word."
"She is so wrapped up in Carrie that she has forgotten all about her
name," answered Tom in his ignorance.
The aunt sighed, "Well, it's a shame she has to answer to it when she
despises it so; though I can't see that it is much worse than Maria. I
never paid much attention to my name that I remember. But if I'd had my
way about it, I should have called you Peter Augustus, and her Aurora
Isadena," (she pronounced them "A-roo-rie Isi-deen-ie") "but your pa had
different notions. Said he'd suffered torment all his days being called
Manx Cat and he was going to get even with folks for once; though I
can't see how naming innocent children such names would help him any in
his grouch against the world."
Neither could Tom, but it was seldom that Aunt Maria volunteered any
information of this sort, and he made the most of his opportunity by
asking, "Is Dad's other name Lynne?"
"Yes, but the boys plagued him when he was little calling him 'lean
cat,' so he took to going by his middle name, Maximilian, but folks
nicknamed that, too, and he got sulky." Then as if fearing she had said
too much, she added, "That assaying man will be looking for you if you
don't get up to the office pretty quick."
So though Tom had any quantity of questions he wanted to ask, he put on
his cap and left the house. The school-bell was ringing its final
summons when he reached the top of the hill, and he paused to look down
the steep slope into the yard where the children were marching in double
file into the building, smiling as he saw Tabitha's long, lean legs
keeping step behind the short, plump ones of little Carrie, and mentally
hoping that the day would go well with the little spitfire sister.
It did. A bright-faced woman stood at her desk and received the children
as they entered, shook hands with them and gave them their seats,
smiling all the while until Tabitha thought she had never seen anyone so
pretty, except Mrs. Carson.
"Now children, my name is Miss Brooks," the new teacher began with an
important air which would have told an older observer that this was her
first experience in teaching. "I shall expect you always to address me
in that manner. If I ask you a question, you must say, 'Yes, Miss
Brooks,' or 'No, Miss Brooks,' for that is polite. Now, the first thing
I intend to do this morning is to take down your names and get you
classified. This little girl in the front seat of the outside row, what
is your name?"
"Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victoria Emeline Catt, Miss
Brooks." Tabitha responded in one breath without a break, her voice
ringing clearly through the silence of the room, for everyone was
craning to see the new scholar and listening to catch her name.
The teacher gasped, the children tittered, and Tabitha crimsoned
angrily, but before she had even time to clench the little fists that
were accustomed to fight her battles, Carrie saved the day. "That's her
whole name, Miss Brooks, but we call her just Theodora Gabrielle. She is
a lovely speaker."
The flush of annoyance on the teacher's face died instantly, and she
smiled down into the beautiful eyes of the child before her as she said,
"That is a very pretty name, I am sure. Now tell me where you are in
your studies."
An answering smile came to Tabitha's face, and she replied with more
confidence, "I've finished United States history, which is grand,
'specially Grant; I've reached Europe in geography, which isn't bad;
I've got to 'emotion' in language, which is horrid; and in 'rithmetic I
am stuck in decimal fractions, which is the worst yet. My brother,
Dionysius Ulysses Humphrey Llewelyn, taught me history when he was
studying it. I hain't had it in school yet."
This time the scholars as well as the teacher were silent in
astonishment, but no one laughed; and seeing the surprised faces all
around her, Tabitha again assumed a belligerent attitude, thinking they
did not believe her.
"Well, that's so," she exclaimed defiantly, glaring at the strange
children.
"Yes," added Carrie, "and she has read through the Fourth Reader and
knows lots of pieces. You ought to hear her speak _Barbara Fritchie_."
"But I'm an awful speller," admitted the mollified Tabitha.
At this the teacher smiled again, and laying her hand on the black head
she said, "You are a little girl to be so far along in your lessons. I
am afraid I can't classify you just now. We will have to wait until I
get the other girls and boys arranged according to studies, and then we
will see where to put you. Now, children, I hope you will follow
Theodora Gabrielle's example and study hard."
"Teacher's pet," whispered the boy across the aisle, but Tabitha was
soaring in the realms of bliss and the teacher's smile, so she did not
hear or care what the others might say. The world was growing very
bright and she was finding how sweet the days could be.