"Many, many things, Tabitha; too many to think of now. But she gave me a rule to help me from getting mad, which I have never forgotten. She told me to count ten when I was angry before I spoke a word to anyone; and by the time I had counted ten I had hold of my temper, so it couldn't get away. Sometimes, of course, I made mistakes and said things I regretted afterwards, and then my mother taught me to go to the people I had hurt and ask their forgiveness. It was often very hard to do, but I felt so much happier afterward, and I have never been sorry for begging a person's pardon." "Even if they weren't nice to you?" "Yes, dear, even if they were horrid. I knew I had done my part and could forget all about the trouble; but if I hadn't told them I was sorry, then I was unhappy all the time." Tabitha looked thoughtfully out of the window far across the desert to the mountains beyond, and finally answered slowly, "Well, that's worth trying, though being a Catt seems to make everything different for me. Maybe--" The noon whistle blew, and the child leaped to her feet with a startled exclamation. "I must be going now. Aunt Maria wasn't at home when we took the melon down, and no one knows where I've gone. Good-by!" Away she rushed down the mountain path and up the main street of the town toward home. As she neared the schoolhouse, she saw through the open window the teacher correcting papers at her desk, her head bowed low over her work and one hand shading her eyes. "I was real wicked to her," said Tabitha to herself. "I ought to tell her how sorry I am--for I am sorry now." Impulsively she ran across the yard, threw open the door and burst into the room. "Teacher--Miss Brooks, I was real ugly and wicked yesterday. He did make me awfully mad when he said such horrid things about my name, but I oughtn't to have thrown water in his face nor dumped him in that puddle. He said I did--but I never saw that part of it. He says he's sorry and I'll believe him now. Will--will you be friends with me again? I forgot my manners when I sassed you. I didn't mean to. It was real hateful of me to tromp on your toes and bear down hard on your knee, and I'm ever so sorry. Can you--forgive me?" Oh, but it was hard to say that, and the culprit stood shifting from one foot to the other in embarrassment and shame with eyes down-cast and cheeks aflame. There was a quick step on the rough floor, a strong arm encircled her gently, and for a brief moment she was held in a close embrace while Miss Brooks whispered tenderly in her ear. Then they had a long talk--Tabitha had forgotten all about the dinner hour--and when they parted it was with a better understanding of each other.