The man started at the sound of her voice and turning in his chair stared so fixedly at her that she was frightened and wished Dr. Vane had stayed with her. "Is there something—can I do anything for you? Would you like to have me speak some pieces for you?" Poor Tabitha had not the faintest idea what to say to this man, whose scarred face shocked and disconcerted her, and there was no one in the room to help her.
"What's your name?" finally asked the hermit.
"Tabitha Catt."
"Pretty name!" He laughed mirthlessly and the girl shrank as if she had been struck. She had not expected him to make fun of her and was undecided whether to be hurt or angry. He was kind to animals; she had hoped to meet that same kindness toward herself.
"It's a horrid name, but I can't help it, for I didn't name myself," she answered with dignity, resolved to hold firmly to the fiery temper that caused her so much unhappiness.
"Why don't you drop it and take some other?" he asked curiously, aware that she was making an effort to control herself.
"I did once," replied the girl with a dejected air, in such contrast to her former haughty tearing that he was amused. "But it didn't pay."
"Why not?"
"Dad made me take it all back."
"Tell me about it."