arply, for the
letter was post-marked Silver Bow instead of Reno; but without further
comment she slipped it into her Latin Book and joined in the gay chatter
with her companions, a secret fear tugging at her heart.

Sometime later, after successfully eluding the laughing group, she stole
away to her room, locked the door, and tore open the envelope with hands
that trembled so violently she could scarcely control them, whispering
to herself, "What can Tom be doing at home? College doesn't close for a
month yet. I wonder if his money is all gone, and he can't finish the
term. Or has Dad sent for him to help out in the mine? No, he wouldn't
do that, surely."

She spread the rattling paper out on the table, and with difficulty
spelled out the scrawl written with pencil and evidently in much haste.
The message was brief:

Dear Puss:--I suppose you have already heard the good news of
the strike on Dad's claims. I meant to have written you about it
before, but have been too busy. The vein is larger than at first
appeared, and quite rich; but of course we can't tell yet
whether it is more than a pocket. We think it is a sure-enough
vein, however.

In timbering a shaft which threatened to cave in, Dad was hurt,
and they sent for me. We have him at the house, for he refused
to be taken to the Miners' Hospital. I am glad it happened so
near the end of the college year. If he gets along all right, I
can take the examinations I must miss now in September, and go
along with the work of the class next year. When will your
school be out? I don't think you have ever said. I suppose you
are busy now getting ready for examinations--or don't you have
such things there? Don't study _too_ hard, Puss, and don't be
alarmed about Dad.

With love, TOM.

The letter fluttered unheeded to the floor, and Tabitha, having read
anxiety between the lines, sat in a brown study.

Dad hurt, Tom at home, Aunt Maria in the East! She was only a little
girl, but she could help a great deal around the house, and maybe--maybe
she could be of assistance in the sick-room. She shuddered at this
thought, for fear of her father was still strong in her heart. But she
could not shirk her duty; she must go home. She gathered up the letter,
stole out of the room and down to the principal's office, where she
found Miss Pomeroy still at work at her desk.

"What is it, dear?" asked the busy w