d wished Dr. Vane had
stayed with her. "Is there something--can I do anything for you? Would
you like to have me speak some pieces for you?" Poor Tabitha had not the
faintest idea what to say to this man, whose scarred face shocked and
disconcerted her, and there was no one in the room to help her.

"What's your name?" finally asked the hermit.

"Tabitha Catt."

"Pretty name!" He laughed mirthlessly and the girl shrank as if she had
been struck. She had not expected him to make fun of her and was
undecided whether to be hurt or angry. He was kind to animals; she had
hoped to meet that same kindness toward herself.

"It's a horrid name, but I can't help it, for I didn't name myself," she
answered with dignity, resolved to hold firmly to the fiery temper that
caused her so much unhappiness.

"Why don't you drop it and take some other?" he asked curiously, aware
that she was making an effort to control herself.

"I did once," replied the girl with a dejected air, in such contrast to
her former haughty tearing that he was amused. "But it didn't pay."

"Why not?"

"Dad made me take it all back."

"Tell me about it."

"That's all there is to tell. I let folks believe my name was something
else and he made me tell them what it really was."

"What was the name you adopted?"

"Theodora Marcella Gabrielle Julianna Victoria Emeline."

"Whew! How could they ever remember it all? That's a long handle for a
little girl."

"They called me Theodora Gabrielle for short."

He smiled in spite of himself. "And do you really wish your name was
that whole string?"

"I did wish so once. That was when I was a little bit of a girl. I am
twelve now. In next April I will be thirteen. Girls are young ladies
when they get into their teens, Aunt Maria says. If I could change my
name now, I would rather it would be Theodora Eugenia Louise. That is
shorter, and long names are not the style any more. Theodora was my
mother's name and I should want that for mine always."

"Do you look like your mother?"

"I reckon not. She died when I was too little to know anything, but if
either of us looks like her it must be Tom. I am afraid I resemble Dad."

"Afraid?"

He spoke this word with a peculiar rising inflection, but she did not
catch the significance of the question, and replied, "Yes. He is tall
and thin and black and slab-sided. That's me, too, except I am short
yet; but I expect I will grow. Besides, I've got the Catt inside o