"I think your decision is the right one, Tabitha," said the sweet voice after a long pause. "I don't like to see you go, but I am glad for your sake that school is so nearly done that you will lose only a few weeks. That can easily be made up during the summer. Your teachers will tell you how much further to study. I am so sorry, little girl, that this has happened! I will do anything in my power to help you, and would urge you to stay and finish the term, only that I would not want to keep you when you feel that you may be needed there. When do you want to go?" "Tonight," was the prompt reply, for some way Miss Pomeroy's words gave her added courage in her hard decision, and she wanted to be gone before she had a chance to repent. "Don't tell the girls. It is hard to have to leave just now when the year is so nearly done, though if I must go, I am glad I shall miss only four weeks more of school. But I really can't say good-by to anyone. It has been _so_ lovely here, Miss Pomeroy!" "Dear little Tabitha," murmured the woman tenderly. "It has been lovely to have you with us, too, and I shall look forward to next autumn to bring back our precious girl who is not only learning life's great lessons herself, but is also teaching us the beauty of living. Go now to your packing. I will send Miss Summers to help you, and will myself attend to your ticket. As soon as the trunk is ready, John will take it to the depot and have it checked. Keep a brave heart under the little jacket, dear, and remember the One who is everywhere." So a few hours later she was helped aboard the train by the dusky porter, and was whirled away into the darkness of the night toward home, cheered but anxious. CHAPTER XX A HAPPY HOME Unknown to Tabitha, Miss Pomeroy had telegraphed her coming, and Tom was there to meet her at the station when the cars slowed down at the forsaken-looking desert town. She looked at his white, haggard face and heavy eyes, and her heart stood still. "Oh, Tom, he isn't--" "No, dear, not that. He is better this morning, the doctor says; but he is pretty badly hurt. I am glad you have come, though we didn't think it was necessary to send for you." That was all they said until the weather-beaten cottage was reached. Then just as Tabitha opened the screen to enter the stifling kitchen, Tom spoke: "He is in your room. He insisted upon being put there with the bed drawn up by the window. They probably won't let you see him yet, but there is a heap of things to be done that I haven't the slightest notion about, Puss. I can sweep and dust and make beds, and even cook potatoes and boil coffee, but how in creation do you make broths that a sick man will eat? And where can a fellow get cool water this kind of weather with no ice in town? The ice-plant burned last week."