The doctor's face was a study, his lips twitched and his eyes grew suspiciously bright. Leaning over the side of the carriage, he held out his hand to the barefooted girl among the rocks and said tenderly,
"Come home with me, Tabitha. The little mother wants to see you. Jerome is sorry and he will never torment you again. He didn't understand."
Tabitha eyed the doctor doubtfully. Maybe he wanted to lick her for the blow she had given Jerome; but one look at the sympathetic face dispelled her fear, and she started as if to accept his invitation, then drew back.
"Thank you, Dr. Vane. I should be pleased to accompany you," she said with all the politeness and formality she could muster, "but I reckon I'd better be going home now. Dad is probably looking for me by this time. He'll want his melon."
The doctor surveyed the shattered fruit on the mountainside, and then looked down into the small brown face with its pathetically drooping mouth.
"We'll drive around by the store and get another melon, Tabitha, and everything will be all right. Won't that do?"
"Why didn't I think of that before?" she exclaimed in visible relief. "How much will it cost? Four bits?"
"Yes, maybe a little more. Such things cost more here on the desert than they do where they use raised."
Her face fell. "I've got only forty-two cents in my bank. I reckon I'll have to take the licking after all."