Tabithas Vacation | Page 3

"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