e held her breath expectantly when
steps approached her door, and her heart sank when they stopped and no
one entered.

Carrie? What could she be thinking of--she, who had told a lie, deceived
people? Could she expect Carrie to call for her? Could she expect Carrie
to be her friend after all that had happened? Down went her head into
the pillow again and the hot tears flowed in a bitter flood.

The screen door banged, Tom had gone to work. The clock struck nine.
There came another knock at the door, louder than the previous one, and
for a long time she could hear Aunt Maria's voice speaking in low tones
to someone who evidently stood on the steps outside.

Somewhere a sharp whistle sounded, and she flew up in bed startled to
hear the clock on the mantel counting off the hour of twelve. She must
have been asleep. Yes, she surely had been, for on the chair beside her
bed stood a tray heaped high with bread and butter, cake and jam. A
glass of milk was there also, and she drank it eagerly, for she was
thirsty; but she could not touch the food.

So the long day passed. Once Tom slipped in and bent over her, but her
eyes were closed, and thinking her asleep, he left a golden orange
beside her and went away. Once Aunt Maria asked her if she didn't feel
able to dress and go out of doors for the fresh air, but she turned
wearily away and hid her face in the pillow, her only refuge.

The second morning someone had left her door ajar, and she heard Aunt
Maria say to Tom, "I don't know what in the world to do with her. She
will be sick if she stays that way much longer."

And in Tabitha's heart sprang the fierce longing to be sick, very sick,
so sick that they would have to take her away from this horrible desert
town. She had heard of such things happening; perhaps--

Tom's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"It is all my fault, Aunt Maria. She told me about the name, but I
didn't pay enough attention to know that she had really taken it in
place of her own. _I_ ought to be thrashed instead of her being
punished. Now she won't look at me or listen to me any more."

Tom took all the blame! Why, she had never for a moment thought of such
a thing! It _wasn't_ his fault, she would tell him so.

"Tom!"

The scraping of his chair as he pushed it back from the table drowned
the sound of her voice, and before she could call again he was gone. She
jumped out of bed, threw on her clothes, and stopping only long enough
to brush b