The long, hot summer weeks came to an end at last, the dainty dresses were finished, the trunk packed, the short journey completed, and Tabitha stood breathless and quaking on the great stone steps before the goal of her ambitions, with the confident Carrie and timid Mercedes beside her, waiting to be admitted to the imposing edifice.

"I can't believe yet that I am really here," she sighed.

"Oh, that feeling will soon wear off," answered Carrie, and then the heavy door swung noiselessly open and Carrie motioned the two girls into the cool shadows of a wide hall, which to Tabitha seemed more like a beautiful garden than the interior of a house, for ropes of glossy-leaved ivy festooned the long, French windows, and palms and tall vases filled with flowers occupied every available nook and corner. "Isn't it grand?" she breathed in ecstasy. "I shall love it here, I know. I do hope I can room with you, Carrie."

"Sh! I am afraid you can't, Puss, but maybe you and Mercedes will be put together. Here comes Miss Pomeroy, the principal."

A stately, silvery-haired lady in shining black was approaching them through the great doors at the end of the hall, and Tabitha eyed her with sudden disfavor.

"I don't see how I can hope to like her when I shall always think of that sneaking Joe and Sneed Pomeroy in Ferndale every time I hear her name." But the moment the woman spoke, she forgot everything else in listening to the sweet, musical voice that somehow made one instantly feel at home and welcome.

"My dear Carrie," the lady was saying, as she kissed the rosy cheek of the flaxen-haired child. "I am so glad you have come back looking so well. And these are your little friends of the desert! Which is Tabitha, and which Mercedes? We are delighted to have two more Silver Bows with us this year. Carrie and I are great friends, and I am sure we all shall be." "Has Cassandra come yet?" asked Carrie eagerly, and her face fell when Miss Pomeroy smilingly nodded her head.

"Why, Carrie Carson, are you sorry?"

"N-o, but if she is here I suppose I can't have Tabitha for a room-mate."

"You precious little girlie! No, I have made other arrangements for Tabitha and Mercedes. Cassandra's mother wrote and asked me particularly if her daughter might not have 'dear little Carrie Carson' for room-mate again this year, for the child adores her and will do anything in the world to please such a lovable child. Now surely after that plea you aren't going to desert poor Cassandra?"

"Oh, Miss Pomeroy, I do like Cassandra ever so much, but—I would like to have Tabitha better."

"And how about Mercedes?"

"She is almost Cassandra's age, and they are sure to be friends."

"Aha! had it all planned out, did you, little sly-boots?" laughed the woman, gently pinching the flushing cheek of the embarrassed Carrie. "There, dear, I was just teasing. I want to please all my girls, but sometimes I have to disappoint them a little. Mercedes will room with Bertha Peck who was here last year, and Tabitha we will try with Chrystobel Clayton. Come now, and I will show you your rooms. Bertha is here already, but Chrystobel has not arrived. Carrie, you have the same room you had last year, and little Cassandra is busy decorating it now—a labor of love, dear."

Up the wide, polished stairs she led them, and along the corridor, on either side of which were several doors, most of them closed, but through the two or three standing ajar Tabitha's bright eyes caught glimpses of merry-faced girls in the midst of an interesting clutter of open trunks, over-loaded beds and bureau drawers, and her quick ears heard snatches of rollicking music or the buzz of gay conversation.

"This is your room, Tabitha. Mercedes is your next-door neighbor, and Carrie is just across the hall. Go in and make yourself at home. Bertha, come welcome your room-mate."

A tall, fair-haired girl rose from the low rocker by the window, and came quickly forward, saying cordially, "Mercedes, I am glad you have come. I have been here three days and am beginning to be homesick. Isn't that a state of affairs? You don't look a bit as I thought you would. Has your trunk arrived yet? And this is Tabitha, our little kitty? You certainly must be our mascot. Your room-mate isn't here yet, so you can help yourself to whichever bed and closet hooks and bureau drawers you want. There really isn't any difference in the size of them, but it is supposed to be a great thing to have first choice."

While the older girl talked she drew Mercedes inside the room, divested her of hat and satchel, jerked out the empty drawers of the dresser, and threw open the tiny closet door with such a hospitable air that the homesick child of the desert felt cheered and comforted at once, and Tabitha found herself wishing it had been her lot to share Bertha's room.

It was lonely all by herself in the room that seemed bare in spite of its pretty furnishings, for nothing familiar greeted her eyes, and its unadorned walls looked quite depressing in their spotless creamy white. Carrie had disappeared, and Miss Pomeroy's steps were descending the stairway; so she closed her door quietly, observing that two or three curious faces were peering at her from across the hall; and with a feeling half homesick, half exultant, Tabitha hung up her hat and turned for a more studied survey of her surroundings.

"Twenty-eight hooks in the closet, fourteen for me and fourteen for Chrystobel. Isn't that the loveliest name? I never heard of it before. I wonder if she will be as nice as she sounds! But of course she will. Carrie says the girls are all nice. Four drawers in the dresser, two little ones and two big ones. I will take the bottom big drawer and the little one nearest the window. Bertha says the drawers are the same size, but the bottom one looks a little deeper. Here is a string, I will measure.—They are exactly the same. That's where you got fooled, Tabitha Catt! See what comes from being stingy?—I would like the bed nearest the window, but maybe I better leave that for Chrystobel.—Clear as crystal and sweet as a bell. I wonder if that is what her mother and father thought when they named her that. These rockers are i-den-ti-cally the same. That's fortunate. It won't be any temptation to choose the prettiest. We will have to tell them apart by putting bows on them. I will tie one of my red hair-ribbons on mine; there are four new ones in my box of ribbons. I wish they would bring up my trunk. I would like to unpack while I have nothing else to do. Wonder where Carrie is. Wish she would come in and talk to me, it seems so strange here all alone."

There was a bold knock at the door, and thinking it might be her trunk, she flung it wide open with the words, "Bring it right in, please, and set it in—oh, I thought—"

"You thought it was your trunk," giggled the lisping midget who faced her in the doorway, "but it ain't. I am Cassandra Hertford. Carrie is my room-mate. Isn't she a darling? She told me you and Mercedes McKittrick had come, and I had to run in to see you. Carrie has gone to see about the trunks. She said she would introduce you when she came back, but I couldn't wait. Where's Mercedes? Oh, she is to be with Bertha Peck, isn't she? Let's go see her."

Clutching astonished Tabitha by the hand, she dragged her out of the room and before any remonstrance could be offered, pushed open the door of the next apartment and announced her arrival with the shout, heard all over the hall, "Hello, Bertha and Mercedes! Here I am with our Tabby Catt!"

Tabitha's sensitive face flushed crimson and the angry light sprang to her eyes, but Bertha rose to the occasion with the ready tact which had made her one of the most popular girls.

"Cassandra, dear, this is our Kitty, the mascot of this floor. Come and meet her, girls;" and before Tabitha realized what had happened, six or seven laughing girls emerged from the various rooms along the hall, and surrounded her, all chattering gayly and apparently not noticing Tabitha's awkward, embarrassed manner. Carrie joined them shortly, and received an enthusiastic greeting, for it was evident that she, too, was a general favorite. And such a laughing and chattering as followed! And how the time flew! In the midst of their merrymaking a gong sounded.

"Goodness gracious, girls! is it so late? I haven't finished unpacking yet. Half an hour to get ready for tea, Tabitha;" and they dispersed to their rooms. Tabitha followed their example and flung open the door at the end of the hall for the final touches to her toilette, but stopped on the threshold in surprise. Standing in front of the mirror, arranging her long, smooth curls, was a girl about her own age, clad in an over-trimmed gown of thin white stuff, and wearing an immense bow of white at either side of her head. At the sound of Tabitha's entrance she turned languidly and surveyed the intruder with cold, disapproving eyes. Tabitha returned the stare with one of undisguised admiration, for never had she seen anyone so beautiful. "Oh, are you Chrystobel?" she cried in rapture. "I've been wondering if you would fit your name."

"I am Chrystobel Clayton," answered the stranger in a frigid tone which was entirely lost on the other. "Do I fit?"

"Oh, yes, you are the handsomest girl I ever saw. Carrie Carson is pretty, but you are beautiful!"

"What is your name?" asked Chrystobel, still with a haughty air, but considerably pleased with the open admiration of her companion. "Tabitha Catt," came the slow answer.

"What an exceedingly queer cognomen!"

Tabitha caught her breath, then said slowly, "It isn't very pretty, perhaps; but—one gets used to their name so they don't mind it."

"Well, I must say if I had such an odd name as that I would change it. I never could get used to it; but then, some people haven't as sensitive natures as others."

Tabitha made no reply, but with a queer sense of rage in her heart she walked across to the dresser and bent to open the lower drawer where she had carefully laid the few things her small grip had contained.

"Here," exclaimed Chrystobel sharply, "don't touch that drawer! That is mine. How dare you!" For Tabitha in her start of surprise had jerked the drawer free from the dresser and it fell with a bang in the middle of the floor, disclosing to view a disorderly array of garments which did not belong to Tabitha.

"What have you done with my things that were in there?" demanded the black-eyed girl indignantly. "I was here first and had the right to make first choice. It makes no difference to me, though; the drawers are just the same size and I would as soon have the other."

Without waiting for a reply, she reached for the upper drawer, but before she had a chance to open it, Chrystobel caught and held it shut as she cried angrily, "My things are in there, too. What did you expect—to keep the whole dresser for yourself?"

"That seems to be what you want," retorted Tabitha, thoroughly enraged. "What have you done with my things?"

"They are in the top drawers. You aren't entitled to more than two."

"I'm entitled to a big one and a little one, Chrystobel Clayton, just the same as you are, and I intend to have them, what's more!"

"Miss Pomeroy said it didn't make any difference which two drawers I took for my own—"

"She didn't say you could have both the big ones, and you aren't going to have them, so now!"

Snatching up the drawer on the floor, she emptied its contents on the nearest bed and turned to restore it to its place in the dresser, but the angry Chrystobel stopped her and tried to take it from her hands, declaring, "That belongs to me, and you shall not have it, I say!"

Tabitha promptly inverted the disputed piece of property and sat down upon it, saying quietly, though her eyes flashed dangerously, "Get it if you can!"

But her companion dared not make the venture, for the clenched hands looked too formidable, and the spoiled Chrystobel was an arrant coward; so she stood beside the dresser glowering at the triumphant girl astride the drawer, and at last finding vent for her anger in the spiteful remark, "Your name fits you exactly. All cats scratch!"

"Well, your name doesn't fit you at all," was the ready reply, "and I was mistaken when I said you were the prettiest girl I had ever seen. I take it all back. You're as ugly as sin!"

"Are you going to give up that drawer?"

"No, not if I have to sit on it all night. You can't be a pig if you are going to room with me. I took only what was my right. You have no business to claim both big drawers."

"I didn't want to room with you anyway—"

"Neither did I want you!" "I shall tell Miss Pomeroy!" threateningly.

"I wish you would!"

"There goes the gong for tea!"

"I am willing. I'll go without supper before I will give up this drawer, and you may as well understand that first as last."

"You are perfectly hateful! You aren't even decently polite."

"I can't see that you have more than your share of manners."

"You are as horrid as your name."

"You are a great deal worse than yours!"

"Girls, girls! What is the reason that you are not down in the dining hall?" Miss Pomeroy, stately, majestic and stern, stood unannounced in the doorway.

"She won't let me have a drawer to put my things in," began the girl with curly hair and the handsome face.

"That's a lie!" screamed Tabitha, bouncing to her feet and dancing up and down in furious passion.

"Tabitha Catt! I am surprised at you!" exclaimed the principal, looking sorrowfully at the angry child. "Chrystobel, what is all this racket about?" "I put my things in the dresser, and she said I had taken her drawer and couldn't have it."

"She did take my drawer—"

"Tabitha, I am talking to Chrystobel now."

"She took both big drawers and—"

"Tabitha!"

"Expected me to have just those two little ones in the top—"

"Tabitha!"

"She said you said she could have her choice and—"

"Will you listen to me?"

"She dumped my things out of the drawer—the bottom one—and poked them in those little mites of ones. It isn't fair—"

"Tabitha Catt!"

"For her to have two big ones and me two little ones, but—"

"Tabitha, leave the room until I call you again!"

"She wouldn't give up either one," and in a perfect storm of grief and anger, Tabitha swept out of the room, her expostulations still pouring in a torrent from her quivering lips; and throwing herself flat on the hall floor, she buried her face in her arms. For some minutes Miss Pomeroy's low, even voice could be heard in the little room at the end of the corridor, interrupted occasionally by Chrystobel's sullen tones; then Tabitha was summoned again, and with reddened eyes she entered the door to learn her fate.

"Tabitha, Chrystobel is sorry she took your belongings out of the bottom drawer without asking your leave, and she has put them back as she found them—"

"She has opened every blessed thing and peeked at it," was Tabitha's indignant comment as she saw the mussed-up contents of the lower drawer, now restored to its place in the dresser.

"Tabitha!" Miss Pomeroy's lips twitched, but her voice was very stern, and the maid from Silver Bow flushed redder than ever, and contritely cried,

"That was very hateful of me, but really, Miss Pomeroy, she never put those things back as she found them, because I had that drawer looking very neat and now see the muddle it is in!"

"We will discuss that later. I am shocked to think any of my girls would act in such an unladylike manner as you have. Whenever any dispute arises over your possessions, you are to come straight to me, or to Madame DuBois, who has charge of this floor. Don't ever let me hear of such actions again. Now, in order to prevent any further dissension, we will decide which bed and chairs each of you is to have and which hooks in the closet."

Tabitha's eyes sought the open closet as Miss Pomeroy spoke, and now she burst out angrily, "She has taken all the hooks but seven on one end! I should have fourteen because there are twenty-eight in all."

"Tabitha, if I have to speak to you again for interrupting, I shall send you to the office to stay until bedtime. Chrystobel, take your clothes off seven of those hooks and give them to Tabitha. Now, Tabitha, which bed do you want?"

"I can't sleep near the window; mamma never allows it," spoke up the haughty Chrystobel.

"That suits me all right," thought Tabitha, but aloud she merely said, "It makes no difference to me."

"Then you may have the bed by the window. As for the chairs, they are exactly alike—"

"I want this rocker," interrupted Chrystobel again, "the other squeaks, and I can't bear that."

"Perhaps," observed Miss Pomeroy sarcastically, "it would be advisable to mark your chairs with strings or ribbons, or something so there will be no possibility of a recurrence of this dispute. Come now to the dining hall and have your tea. I won't punish you this time, but if such a disgraceful scene occurs again, I shall not be lenient with either one."

"I don't care where my things are put," said irrepressible Tabitha, "and I'm not trying to be a pig, either, even if I was here first; but I do want what belongs to me by rights!"

Miss Pomeroy smiled in the dimness of the stairway, as she replied with emphasis, "I expect all my girls to obey the rules laid down for them, and if they won't do that, then they can't stay here."

Tabitha's indignation subsided suddenly. What a dreadful thing it would be if she should be sent home! She ought to have thought of that possibility before. Now Miss Pomeroy was angry with her and she had made a miserable beginning of the delightful boarding school life she had dreamed so much about. Two hot tears gathered in her eyes again, but just at that minute she heard Chrystobel mutter between her teeth so the principal could not hear, "I hate you!"

"It's mutual!" was Tabitha's vindictive reply, and with head up, she stalked stiffly down the stairs behind Miss Pomeroy.

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