Tabitha at Ivy Hall

Ruth Alberta Brown

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• Publié par: fufef
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 16
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tabitha at Ivy Hall, by Ruth Alberta Brown This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Tabitha at Ivy Hall Author: Ruth Alberta Brown Illustrator: Alfred Russell Release Date: May 8, 2008 [EBook #25390] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TABITHA AT IVY HALL *** Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net TABITHA AT IVY HALL She began her first letter to the father she did not know or understand. (Page 296.) TABITHA AT IVY HALL BY RUTH ALBERTA BROWN ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALFRED RUSSELL c THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY CHICAGO AKRON, OHIO MADE IN U. S. A. NEW YORK Copyright, 1911 by THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY To My Mother CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE CHAPTER PAGE I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. THE H ATEFUL N AME TABITHA C HOOSES A N EW N AME TABITHA ADOPTS H ER N EW N AME THE N EW N AME C AUSES TABITHA TROUBLE TABITHA IS C OMFORTED A D OG AND A C AT THE N EW BOY TABITHA BEGS PARDON A BRAVE LITTLE C ATT C ARRIE GOES AWAY TO SCHOOL A FIRE IN THE N IGHT D R. VANE H AS A VISITOR AUNT MARIA D ECIDES THE QUESTION TABITHA'S R OOM-MATE THE FIRST N IGHT AT IVY H ALL MADAME'S ADVICE H OLIDAY PLANS TABITHA'S C HRISTMAS A STRIKE! A H APPY H OME 11 33 45 63 81 93 105 127 137 155 171 185 201 221 239 253 269 283 299 309 TABITHA AT IVY HALL [11] CHAPTER I THE HATEFUL NAME "She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. 'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,' she said." The black eyes of the little speaker burned with fiery indignation as she hurled these words of defiance at a ten-quart pail of blackberries standing in the middle of the dusty road where she had set it when the emotion of her recital had overcome her to such a degree that mere words were no longer effective and gestures had become absolutely necessary. She was living it herself. What did it matter that there was no rebel army confronting her, what did it matter that the town of Frederick lay hundreds of miles away, what did it matter that she was merely a slip of a girl living fifty years after the terrible scenes of war which inspired the words she was reciting? The whole picture lay as vividly before her as if she had been Dame Barbara herself, and she entered into the spirit of the production with such vim that her actual surroundings were forgotten. Her thin, peaked face, browned by sun and wind, was glorified with patriotism, and her voice rang sharp with the intensity of feeling. Having no flag to shake in the face of the approaching enemy, she pulled a mullein stalk growing among the tall grass and flaunted it so vigorously that in leaning over her imaginary window-sill she lost her balance and was nearly capsized into her pail of luscious berries. A rude laugh interrupted her and she was brought to earth with a suddenness that left her breathless and crimson with embarrassment beside the road, digging her bare toes into the gray dust and waiting for the jeers she knew were to follow. Then her face changed and the defiance flashed back into the big black eyes. Her tormentor was not the person she had evidently expected it to be, and her courage rose accordingly. Again the boy laughed insolently and the girl's fists clenched involuntarily as she looked up into the sneering face above her and realized that after all she could do him no harm for he was perched in the branches of a tree just out of reach over her head. His bare legs dangled tantalizingly among the green leaves, and all she could do to show her fierce hatred was to grimace at him. The effect was most startling. Her tormentor lost his hold on the upper bough and slid from his seat. There was a lively scratching and clawing among the branches; while below, the black-eyed girl held her breath in expectancy. Oh, if only he would tumble! But he did not fall, and her expression of jubilation changed to disappointment. Carefully he righted himself on the limb where he had landed, and, peering down at the child in the road, tauntingly cried, "Don't we think we are smart, Tabby Catt, Tabby Catt? Don't we think we are smart?" The girl's lips curved scornfully, but her hard fists tightened until her knuckles stood out like white balls. "How's Thomas Catt today?" continued the boy, swinging his feet dangerously near the tattered sunbonnet, which half concealed the angry little face below. Still she deigned no reply, though her eyes blazed furiously and her breath came quick and short. She took a step nearer the tree and he cautiously drew his feet up to the branch on which he sat; but apparently she did not notice this move, as she stood measuring the distance from the ground to the limbs above and wondering whether [12] [13] [14] or not she could reach him and give him the drubbing he deserved before he had a chance to escape or call for help. She could climb like a squirrel and run like a deer, but in the pasture beyond this fringe of trees was the boy's big brother, and she had no desire to meet him, having once had a taste of his great whip. Perhaps the boy in the tree guessed her thoughts, for once more he lowered his feet and kicked viciously at her as he chanted: "Tabby Catt, Tabby Catt, Drink some milk and make you fat, Skinny, scrawny Tabby Catt." The faded calico bonnet caught on his toes and he tossed it high in the air, letting it fall far out in the dust of the road. Never pausing to see what was the fate of her possessions, the child let out one scream of animal rage, and with a tiger-like spring caught the feet of her enemy and jerked the coward off his perch. Taken off his guard, he fell heavily into the road, crushing her beneath him, and raising such a cloud of dust that both were nearly smothered; but with a dexterous twist she freed herself, and, unconscious of the dust, the boy's screams or the sound of answering shouts in the pasture nearby, she fell to pummelling her helpless victim with relentless fists, all the while screaming at the top of her voice, "I am a Tabby Catt, am I? I am scrawny and skinny, am I? Well, you're a coward, a good-for-nothing coward, and so is your big brother. He wouldn't dare fight Tom, and you wouldn't dare say such things to me if Tom was anywhere near. You're a bully, an overgrown baby, a 'fraid-cat! Yes, that's what you are! I may be a Tabby Catt, but I'm not a 'fraid-cat. I may be skinny and scrawny now, but I reckon you will be, too, when I get through with you, Joe Pomeroy! You're the sneakin'est sneak that ever lived—except your brother. 'Fraid-cat, sneak, sneak, sneak, s-n-e-a-k—" Words failed her. What could she say mean enough to express her contempt for the howling coward almost twice her size pinned under her knees, making no attempt to defend himself against the rain of blows falling wherever the avenging fists could strike? Suddenly she felt herself snatched from the back of her victim, held high in the air so her feet did not touch the ground, and shaken to and fro as a terrier shakes a rat. She twisted and turned and writhed and squirmed to free herself, thinking this must be the big brother punishing her for the drubbing she had given hapless Joe, and expecting any instant to feel the lash of his heavy herder's whip. But no whip struck her, and with one great tug she broke loose from the hand that gripped her shoulder, and confronted—not Sneed Pomeroy, the bully, but a tall, swarthy-faced man with a long beard and snapping black eyes, very much like her own, had she taken the time to notice it, who held her transfixed for a moment with his angry [15] [16] [17] gaze. Amazed to find Joe's rescuer—for such he appeared to her —some one other than the big brother Sneed, and angered at the vigorous shaking he had given her, the child found vent for her outraged feelings in a horrible grimace at the stalwart man in front of her. With an exclamation of anger the stranger raised his hand as if to strike the girl, but she dodged the blow, and screamed in disdainful defiance: "Slap, if you dare, you old gray head, I'll scratch like a—cat—till you'll wish you were dead." She hesitated a moment before choosing that word, and as it fell from her lips, she glanced apprehensively at the blubbering Joe still lying in the dust, and saw for the first time that this rescuer, whoever he might be, was evidently unknown to Joe, for the coward's bloody face was even more scared than when she had been pounding it, and he looked as if he, too, expected to receive some punishment from the hands of the mysterious stranger. "Tabitha Catt!" She whirled toward the man in frightened silence, and her clenched hands dropped nerveless at her side. It was her father! What a change the heavy beard made in his appearance; and then besides, it was almost a year since she had seen him. No wonder she had failed to recognize him in her anger. It would have taken more than one glance had she met him under ordinary circumstances. "Put on your bonnet and march home. We will settle matters there." His words sounded so ominous that she hastily did as he bid, wondering dully whether at last her day of reckoning had come. "Here, boy, take your berries and be off, but if I ever catch you hec—" "Those are my berries," Tabitha found courage to say, suddenly remembering the pail heaped full of the fruit she had toiled all the morning to pick; and the man, glancing down at her bony hands, scratched and scarred by blackberry thorns, thrust the heavy pail into her arms and without a word followed her in the dusty march toward the house a quarter of a mile distant; nor di