"Inside?"
"To Los Angeles, I mean. People here on the desert call that 'inside,' though I never could see why. Please, Mr. Goodwin, give me a blank. I want to send a telegram."
The man behind the counter supplied her with the necessary materials, and stood waiting curiously for the message to be written. But another idea had occurred to Tabitha, and turning away from the operator with the blank in her hand, she whispered to Gloriana in dismay, "I don't dare telegraph. Mr. Goodwin is a worse gossip than any old maid I ever knew, and he'd tell it all over town before noon!"
"Then write a letter."
"It takes nearly a week for mail to travel that far. It might be too late by—I've got it! How will this do?"
Rapidly she scribbled a few hasty words on the slip in her hands and passed it to Gloriana, who read in amazement this queer scrawl:
"Wire five hundred silver headed eagles. Must get rich quick. Ask Carrie to translate. Letter follows.
Tabitha Catt."
"That is more than ten words, but I can't help it. I'm willing to pay for it if it does the work."
"But, Kitty, what does it mean?" asked mystified Gloriana, privately thinking it the silliest piece of nonsense she had ever heard of. "Will he know what you want?"
"Carrie will. We used to write notes to each other in cipher when we were little. We called it cipher. Of course it was all utter nonsense, but I am sure she will remember."