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WHAT KATY DID AT SCHOOL
by SUSAN COOLIDGE
CONTENTS.
I. CONIC SECTION.
II. A NEW YEAR AND A NEW PLAN.
III. ON THE WAY.
IV. THE NUNNERY.
V. ROSES AND THORNS.
VI. THE S. S. U. C.
VII. INJUSTICE.
VIII. CHANGES.
IX. THE AUTUMN VACATION.
X. A BUDGET OF LETTERS.
XI. CHRISTMAS BOXES.
XII. WAITING FOR SPRING.
XIII. PARADISE REGAINED.
WHAT
KATY
DID
AT
SCHOOL.
CHAPTER I. CONIC SECTION.
It was just after that happy visit of which I told at the end of "What
Katy Did," that Elsie and John made their famous excursion to Conic
Section; an excursion which neither of them ever forgot, and about
which the family teased them for a long time afterward.
The summer had been cool; but, as often happens after cool summers,
the autumn proved unusually hot. It seemed as if the months had been
playing a game, and had "changed places" all round; and as if September
were determined to show that he knew how to make himself just as
disagreeable as August, if only he chose to do so. All the last half
of Cousin Helen's stay, the weather was excessively sultry. She felt
it very much, though the children did all they could to make her
comfortable, with shaded rooms, and iced water, and fans. Every
evening the boys would wheel her sofa out on the porch, in hopes of
coolness; but it was of no use: the evenings were as warm as the days,
and the yellow dust hanging in the air made the sunshine look thick
and hot. A few bright leaves appeared on the trees, but they were
wrinkled, and of an ugly color. Clover said she thought they had been
_boiled_ red like lobsters. Altogether, the month was a trying one,
and the coming of October made little difference: still the dust
continued, and the heat; and the wind, when it blew, had no refreshment
in it, but seemed to have passed over some great furnace which had
burned out of it all life and flavor.
In spite of this, however it was wonderful to see how Katy gained and
improved. Every day added to her powers. First she came down to
dinner, then to breakfast. She sat on the porch in the afternoons;
she poured the tea. It was like a miracle to the others, in the
beginning, to watch her going about the house; but they got used
to it surprisingly soon,--one does to pleasant things. One person,
however, never got used to it, never took it as a matter of course;
and that was Katy herself. She could not run downstairs, or out into
the garden; she could not open the kitchen door to give an order,
without a sense of gladness and exultation which was beyond words.
The wider and more active life stimulated her in every way. Her
cheeks grew round and pink, her eyes bright. Cousin Helen and papa
watched this change with indescribable pleasure; and Mrs. Worrett,
who dropped in to lunch one day, fairly screamed with surprise at
the sight of it.
"To think of it!" she cried, "why, the last time I was here you looked
as if you had took root in that chair of yours for the rest of your
days, and here you are stepping around as lively as I be. Well, well!
wonders will never cease. It does my eyes good to see you, Katherine.
I wish your poor aunt were here to-day; that I do. How pleased she'd
be?"
It is doubtful whether Aunt Izzie would have been so pleased, for the
lived-in look of the best parlor would have horrified her extremely;
but Katy did not recollect that just then. She was touched at the
genuine kindness of Mrs. Worrett's voice, and took very willingly
her offered kiss. Clover brought lemonade and grapes, and they all
devoted themselves to making the poor lady comfortable. Just before
she went away she said,
"How is it that I can't never get any of you to come out to the Conic
Section? I'm sure I've asked you often enough. There's Elsie, now,
and John, they're just the age to enjoy being in the country. Why
won't you send 'em out for a week? Johnnie can feed chickens, and
chase 'em, too, if she likes," she added, as Johnnie dashed just then
into view, pursuing one of Phil's bantams round the house. "Tell her
so, won't you, Katherine? There is lots of chickens on the farm. She
can chase 'em from morning to night, if she's a mind to."
Katy thanked her, but she didn't think the children would care to go.
She gave Johnnie the message, and then the whole matter passed out of
her mind. The family were in low spirits that morning because of
Cousin Helen's having just gone away; and Elsie was lying on the sofa
fanning herself with a great palm-leaf fan.
"Oh, dear!" she sighed. "Do you suppose it's every going to be cool
again? It does seem as if I couldn't bear it any longer."
"Aren't you well, darling?" inquired Katy, anxiously.
"Oh, yes! well enough," replied Elsie. "It's only this horrid heat,
and never going away to where it's cooler. I keep thinking about the
country, and wishing I were there feeling the wind blow. I wonder
if papa wouldn't let John and me go to Conic Section, and see Mrs.
Worrett. Do you think he would, if you asked him?"
"But," said Katy, amazed, "Conic Section isn't exactly country, you
know. It is just out of the city,--only six miles from here. And
Mrs. Worrett's house is close to the road, papa said. Do you think
you'd like it, dear? It _can't_ be very much cooler than this."
"Oh, yes! it can," rejoined Elsie, in a tone which was a little fretful.
"It's _always_ cooler on a farm. There's more room for the wind, and--
oh, every thing's pleasanter! You can't think how tired I am of this
hot house. Last night I hardly slept at all; and, when I did, I
dreamed that I was a loaf of brown bread, and Debby was putting me
into the oven to bake. It was a horrid dream. I was so glad to wake
up. Won't you ask papa if we may go, Katy?"
"Why, of course I will, if you wish it so much. Only"--Katy stopped
and did not finish her sentence. A vision of fat Mrs. Worrett had
risen before her, and she could not help doubting if Elsie would find
the farm as pleasant as she expected. But sometimes the truest
kindness is in giving people their own unwise way, and Elsie's eyes
looked so wistful that Katy had no heart to argue or refuse.
Dr. Carr looked doubtful when the plan was proposed to him.
"It's too hot," he said. "I don't believe the girls will like it."
"Oh, yes! we will, papa; indeed we will," pleaded Elsie and John, who
had lingered near the door to learn the fate of their request.
Dr. Carr smiled at the imploring faces, but he looked a little
quizzical. "Very well," he said, "you may go. Mr. Worrett is coming
into town to-morrow, on some bank business. I'll send word by him;
and in the afternoon, when it is cooler, Alexander can drive you out."
"Goody! Goody!" cried John, jumping up and down, while Elsie put her
arms round papa's neck and gave him a hug.
"And Thursday I'll send for you," he continued.
"But, papa," expostulated Elsie, "That's only two days. Mrs. Worrett
said a week."
"Yes, she said a week," chimed in John; "and she's got ever so many
chickens, and I'm to feed 'em, and chase 'em as much as I like. Only
it's too hot to run much," she added reflectively.
"You won't really send for us on Thursday, will you, papa?" urged
Elsie, anxiously. "I'd like to stay ever and ever so long; but Mrs.
Worrett said a week."
"I shall send on Thursday," repeated Dr. Carr, in a decided tone.
Then, seeing that Elsie's lip was trembling, and her eyes were full
of tears, he continued: "Don't look so woeful, Pussy. Alexander shall
drive out for you; but if you want to stay longer, you may send him
back with a note to say what day you would like to have him come
again. Will that do?"
"Oh, yes!" said Elsie, wiping her eyes; "that will do beautifully,
papa. Only, it seems such a pity that Alexander should have to go
twice when it's so hot; for we're perfectly sure to want to stay
a week."
Papa only laughed, as he kissed her. All being settled the children
began to get ready. It was quite an excitement packing the bags, and
deciding what to take and what not to take. Elsie grew bright and gay
with the bustle. Just to think of being in the country,--the cool
green country,--made her perfectly happy, she declared. The truth
was, she was a little feverish and not quite well, and didn't know
exactly how she felt or what she wanted.
The drive out was pleasant, except that Alexander upset John's gravity,
and hurt Elsie's dignity very much, by inquiring, as they left the
gate, "Do the little misses know where it is that they want to go?"
Part of the way the road ran through woods. They were rather boggy
woods; but the dense shade kept off the sun, and there was a spicy
smell of evergreens and sweet fern. Elsie felt that the good time
had fairly begun and her spirits rose with every turn of the wheels.
By and by they left the woods, and came out again into the sunshine.
The road was dusty, and so were the fields, and the ragged sheaves
of corn-stalks, which dotted them here and there, looked dusty too.
Piles of dusty red apples lay on the grass, under the orchard trees.
Some cows going down a lane toward their milking shed, mooed in a
dispirited and thirsty way, which made the children feel thirsty also.
"I want a drink of water awfully," said John. "Do you suppose it's
much farther? How long will it be before we get to Mrs. Worrett's,
Alexander?"
"'Most there, miss," replied Alexander, laconically.
Elsie put her head out of the carriage, and looked eagerly round.
Where was the delightful farm? She saw a big, pumpkin-colored house
by the roadside, a little farther on; but surely that couldn't be
it. Yes: Alexander drew up at the gate, and jumped down to lift.
them out. It really was! The surprise quite took away her breath.
She looked about. There were the woods, to be sure, but half a mile
away across the fields. Near the house, there were no trees at all;
only some lilac bushes at one side; there was no green grass either.
A gravel path took up the whole of the narrow front yard; and, what
with the blazing color of the paint and the wide-awake look of the
blindless windows, the house had somehow the air of standing on
tip-toe and staring hard at something,--the dust in the road,
perhaps; for there seemed to be nothing to stare at.
Elsie's heart sank indescribably, as she and John got very slowly out
of the carryall, and Alexander, putting his arm over the fence, rapped
loudly at the front door. It was some minutes before the rap was
answered. Then a heavy step was heard creaking through the hall, and
somebody began fumbling at an obstinate bolt, which would not move.
Next, a voice which they recognized as Mrs. Worrett's called:
"Isaphiny, Isaphiny, come and see if you can open this door."
"How funny!" whispered Johnnie, beginning to giggle.
"Isaphiny" seemed to be upstairs; for presently they heard her running
down, after which a fresh rattle began at the obstinate bolt. But still
the door did not open, and at length Mrs. Worrett put her lips to the
keyhole, and asked,--
"Who is it?"
The voice sounded so hollow and ghostly, that Elsie jumped, as she
answered: "It's I, Mrs. Worrett,--Elsie Carr. And Johnnie's here,
too."
"Ts, ts, ts!" sounded from within, and then came a whispering; after
which Mrs. Worrett put her mouth again to the keyhole, and called out:
"Go round to the back, children. I can't make this door open anyway.
It's swelled up with the damp."
"Damp!" whispered Johnnie; "why, it hasn't rained since the third week
in August; papa said so yesterday."
"That's nothing, Miss Johnnie," put in Alexander, overhearing her.
"Folks hereaway don't open their front doors much,--only for weddings
and funerals and such like. Very likely this has stood shut these
five years. I know the last time I drove Miss Carr out, before she
died, it was just so; and she had to go round to the back, as you're
a-doing now."
John's eyes grew wide with wonder; but there was no time to say any
thing, for they had turned the corner of the house, and there was
Mrs. Worrett waiting at the kitchen door to receive them. She looked
fatter than ever, Elsie thought; but she kissed them both, and said
she was real glad to see a Carr in her house at last.
"It was too bad," she went on, "to keep you waiting so. But the fact
is I got asleep and when you knocked, I waked up all in a daze, and
for a minute it didn't come to me who it must be. Take the bags right
upstairs, Isaphiny; and put them in the keeping-room chamber. How's
your pa, Elsie,--and Katy? Not laid up again, I hope."
"Oh, no; she seems to get better all the time."
"That's right," responded Mrs. Worrett, heartily. "I didn't know but
what, with hot weather, and company in the house, and all,--there's a
chicken, Johnnie," she exclaimed, suddenly interrupting herself, as
a long-legged hen ran past the door. "Want to chase it right away?
You can, if you like. Or would you rather go upstairs first?"
"Upstairs, please," replied John, while Elsie went to the door, and
watched Alexander driving away down the dusty road. She felt as if
their last friend had deserted them. Then she and Johnnie followed
Isaphiny upstairs. Mrs. Worrett never "mounted" in hot weather she
told them.
The spare chamber was just under the roof. It was very hot, and smelt
as if the windows had never been opened since the house was built. As
soon as they were alone, Elsie ran across the room, and threw up the
sash; but the moment she let go, it fell again with a crash which shook
the floor and made the pitcher dance and rattle in the wash-bowl. The
children were dreadfully frightened, especially when they heard Mrs.
Worrett at the foot of the stairs calling to ask what was the matter.
"It's only the window," explained Elsie, going into the hall. "I'm so
sorry; but it won't stay open. Something's the matter with it."
"Did you stick the nail in?" inquired Mrs. Worrett.
"The nail? No, ma'am."
"Why, how on earth did you expect it do stay up then? You young folks
never see what's before your eyes. Look on the window-sill, and you'll
find it. It's put there a purpose."
Elsie returned, much discomfited. She looked, and, sure enough, there
was a big nail, and there was a hole in the side of the window-frame
in which to stick it. This time she got the window open without
accident; but a long blue paper shade caused her much embarrassment.
It hung down, and kept the air from coming in. She saw no way of
fastening it.
"Roll it up, and put in a pin," suggested John.
"I'm afraid of tearing the paper. Dear, what a horrid thing it is!"
Replied Elsie in a disgusted tone.
However, she stuck in a couple of pins and fastened the shade out of
the way. After that, they looked about the room. It was plainly
furnished, but very nice and neat. The bureau was covered with a
white towel, on which stood a pincushion, with "Remember Ruth" stuck
upon it in pins. John admired this very much, and felt that she could
never make up her mind to spoil the pattern by taking out a pin,
however great her need of one might be.
"What a high bed!" she exclaimed. "Elsie, you'll have to climb on a
chair to get into it; and so shall I."
Elsie felt of it. "Feathers!" she cried a tone of horror. "O John!
why did we come? What shall we do?"
"I guess we shan't mind it much," replied John, who was perfectly well,
and considered these little variations on home habits rather as fun
than otherwise. But Elsie gave a groan. Two nights on a feather-bed!
How should she bear it!
Tea was ready in the kitchen when they went downstairs. A small fire
had been lighted to boil the water. It was almost out, but the room
felt stiflingly warm, and the butter was so nearly melted that Mrs.
Worrett had to help it with a tea-spoon. Buzzing flies hovered above
the table, and gathered thick on the plate of cake. The bread was
excellent, and so were the cottage cheeses and the stewed quinces; but
Elsie could eat nothing. She was in a fever of heat. Mrs. Worrett
was distressed at this want of appetite; and so was Mr. Worrett, to
whom the children had just been introduced. He was a kindly-looking
old man, with a bald head, who came to supper in his shirt-sleeves,
and was a thin as his wife was fat.
"I'm afraid the little girl don't like her supper, Lucinda," he said.
"You must see about getting her something different for to-morrow."
"Oh! it isn't that. Every thing is very nice, only, I'm not hungry,"
pleaded Elsie, feeling as if she should like to cry. She did cry a
little after tea, as they sat in the dusk; Mr. Worrett smoking his
pipe and slapping mosquitoes outside the door, and Mrs. Worrett
sleeping rather noisily in a big rocking-chair. But not even Johnnie
found out that she was crying; for Elsie felt that she was the
naughtiest child in the world to behave so badly when everybody was
so kind to her. She repeated this to herself many times, but it
didn't do much good. As often as the thought of home and Katy and
papa came, a wild longing to get back to them would rush over her,
and her eyes would fill again with sudden tears.
The night was very uncomfortable. Not a breath of wind was stirring,
or none found its way to the stifling bed where the little sisters
lay. John slept pretty well, in spite of heat and mosquitoes, but
Elsie hardly closed her eyes. Once she got up and went to the window,
but the blue paper shade had become unfastened, and rattled down upon
her head with a sudden bump, which startled her very much. She could
find no pins in the dark, so she left it hanging; whereupon it rustled
and flapped through the rest of the night, and did its share toward
keeping her awake. About three o'clock she fell into a doze; and it
seemed only a minute after that before she waked up to find bright
sunshine in the room, and half a dozen roosters crowing and calling
under the windows. Her head ached violently. She longed to stay in
bed, but was afraid it would be thought impolite, so she dressed and
went down with Johnnie; but she looked so pale and ate so little
breakfast that Mrs. Worrett was quite troubled, and said she had
better not try to go out, but just lie on the lounge in the best
room, and amuse herself with a book.
The lounge in the best room was covered with slippery purple chintz.
It was a high lounge and very narrow. There was nothing at the end
to hold the pillow in its place; so the pillow constantly tumbled off
and jerked Elsie's head suddenly backward, which was not at all
comfortable. Worse,--Elsie having dropped into a doze, she herself
tumbled to the floor, rolling from the glassy, smooth chintz as if
it had been a slope of ice. This adventure made her so nervous that
she dared not go to sleep again, though Johnnie fetched two chairs,
and placed them beside the sofa to hold her on. So she followed Mrs.
Worretts advice, and "amused herself with a book." There were not
many books in the best room. The one Elsie chose was a fat black
volume called "The Complete Works of Mrs. Hannah More." Part of it
was prose, and part was poetry. Elsie began with a chapter called
"Hints on the Formation of the Character of a Youthful Princess."
But there were a great many long words in it; so she turned to a
story named "Coelebs in Search of a Wife." It was about a young
gentleman who wanted to get married, but who didn't feel sure that
there were any young ladies nice enough for him; so he went about
making visits, first to one and then to another; and, when he had
stayed a few days at a house, he would always say, "No, she won't
do," and then he would go away. At last, he found a young lady who
seemed the very person, who visited the poor, and got up early in
the morning, and always wore white, and never forgot to wind up her
watch or do her duty; and Elsie almost thought that now the difficult
young gentleman must be satisfied, and say, "This is the very thing."
When, lo! her attention wandered a little, and the next thing she
knew she was rolling off the lounge for the second time, in company
with Mrs. Hannah More. They landed in the chairs, and Johnnie ran
and picked them both up. Altogether, lying on the best parlor sofa
was not very restful; and as the day went on, and the sun beating on
the blindless windows made the room hotter, Elsie grew continually
more and more feverish and homesick and disconsolate.
Meanwhile Johnnie was kept in occupation by Mrs. Worrett, who had got
the idea firmly fixed in her mind, that the chief joy of a child's
life was to chase chickens. Whenever a hen fluttered past the kitchen
door, which was about once in three minutes, she would cry: "Here,
Johnnie, here's another chicken for you to chase;" and poor Johnnie
would feel obliged to dash out into the sun. Being a very polite
little girl, she did not like to say to Mrs. Worrett that running in
the heat was disagreeable: so by dinner-time she was thoroughly tired
out, and would have been cross if she had known how; but she didn't--
Johnnie was never cross. After dinner it was even worse; for the sun
was hotter, and the chickens, who didn't mind sun, seemed to be
walking all the time. "Hurry, Johnnie, here's another," came so
constantly, that at last Elsie grew desperate, got up, and went to
the kitchen with a languid appeal: "Please, Mrs. Worrett, won't you
let Johnnie stay by me, because my head aches so hard?" After that,
Johnnie had a rest; for Mrs. Worrett was the kindest of women, and
had no idea that she was not amusing her little guest in the most
delightful manner.
A little before six, Elsie's head felt better; and she and Johnnie
put on their hats, and went for a walk in the garden. There was not
much to see: beds of vegetables,--a few currant bushes,--that was all.
Elsie was leaning against a paling, and trying to make out why the
Worrett house had that queer tiptoe expression, when a sudden loud
grunt startled her, and something touched the top of her head. She
turned, and there was an enormous pig, standing on his hind legs, on
the other side of the paling. He was taller than Elsie, as he stood
thus, and it was his cold nose which had touched her head. Somehow,
appearing in this unexpected way, he seemed to the children like some
dreadful wild beast. They screamed with fright, and fled to the house,
from which Elsie never ventured to stir again during their visit.
John chased chickens at intervals, but it was a doubtful pleasure;
and all the time she kept a wary eye on the distant pig.
That evening, while Mrs. Worrett slept and Mr. Worrett smoked outside
the door, Elsie felt so very miserable that she broke down altogether.
She put her head in Johnnie's lap, as they sat together in the darkest
corner of the room, and sobbed and cried, making as little noise as
she possibly could. Johnnie comforted her with soft pats and
strokings; but did not dare to say a word, for fear Mrs. Worrett
should wake up and find them out.
When the morning came, Elsie's one thought was, would Alexander come
for them in the afternoon? All day she watched the clock and the
road with feverish anxiety. Oh! if papa had changed his mind,--had
decided to let them stay for a week at Conic Section,--what should
she do? It was just possible to worry through and keep alive till
afternoon, she thought; but if they were forced to spend another
night in that feather-bed, with those mosquitoes, hearing the blue
shad rattle and quiver hour after hour,--she should die, she was
sure she should die!
But Elsie was not called upon to die, or even to discover how easy it
is to survive a little discomfort. About five, her anxious watch was
rewarded by the appearance of a cloud of dust, out of which presently
emerged old Whitey's ears and the top of the well-known carryall.
They stopped at the gate. There was Alexander, brisk and smiling,
very glad to see his "little misses" again, and to find them so glad
to go home. Mrs. Worrett, however, did not discover that they were
glad; no indeed! Elsie and John were much too polite for that. They
thanked the old lady, and said good-by so prettily that, after they
were gone, she told Mr. Worrett that it hadn't been a bit of trouble
having them there, and she hoped they would come again; they enjoyed
every thing so much; only it was a pity that Elsie looked so peaked.
And at that very moment Elsie was sitting on the floor of the carryall,
with her head in John's lap, crying and sobbing for joy that the visit
was over and that she was on the way home. "If only I live to get
there," she said, "I'll never, no, never, go into the country again!"
which was silly enough; but we must forgive her because she was half
sick.
Ah, how charming home did look, with the family grouped in the shady
porch, Katy in her white wrapper, Clover with rose-buds in her belt,
and everybody ready to welcome and pet the little absentees! There
was much hugging and kissing, and much to tell of what had happened
in the two days: how a letter had come from Cousin Helen; how Daisy
White had four kittens as white as herself; how Dorry had finished
his water-wheel,--a wheel which turned in the bath-tub, and was
"really ingenious," papa said; and Phil had "swapped" one of his
bantam chicks for on of Eugene Slack's Bramapootras. It was not
till they were all seated round the tea-table that anybody demanded
an account of the visit. Elsie felt this a relief, and was just
thinking how delicious every thing was, from the sliced peaches to
the clinking ice in the milk-pitcher, when papa put the dreaded
question,--
"Well, Elsie, so you decided to come, after all. How was it? Why
didn't you stay your week out? You look pale, it seems to me. Have
you been enjoying yourself too much? Tell us all about it."
Elsie looked at papa, and papa looked at Elsie. Dr. Carr's eyes
twinkled just a little, but otherwise he was perfectly grave. Elsie
began to speak, then to laugh, then to cry, and the explanation, when
it came, was given in a mingled burst of all three.
"O papa, it was horrid! That is, Mrs. Worrett was just as kind as
could be, but so fat; and oh, such a pig! I never imagined such a
pig! And the calico on that horrid sofa was so slippery that I
rolled off five times, and once I hurt myself real badly. And we
had a feather-bed; and I was so homesick that I cried all the
evening."
"That must have been gratifying to Mrs. Worrett," put in Dr. Carr.
"Oh! she didn't know it, papa. She was asleep, and snoring so that
nobody could hear. And the flies!--such flies, Katy!--and the
mosquitoes, and our window wouldn't open till I put in a nail. I
am so glad to get home! I never want to go into the country again,
never, never! Oh, if Alexander hadn't come!--why, Clover, what are
you laughing for? And Dorry,--I think it's very unkind," and Elsie
ran to Katy, hid her face, and began to cry.
"Never mind, darling, they didn't mean to be unkind. Papa, her hands
are quite hot; you must give her something." Katy's voice shook a
little; but she would not hurt Elsie's feeling by showing that she
was amused. Papa gave Elsie "something" before she went to bed,--
a very mild dose I fancy; for doctors' little girls, as a general
rule, do not take medicine, and next day she was much better. As
the adventures of the Conic Section visit leaked out bit by bit, the
family laughed till it seemed as if they would never stop. Phil was
forever enacting the pig, standing on his triumphant hind legs, and
patting Elsie's head with his nose; and many and many a time, "It
will end like your visit to Mrs. Worrett," proved a useful check
when Elsie was in a self-willed mood and bent on some scheme which
for the moment struck her as delightful. For one of the good things
about our childish mistakes is, that each one teaches us something;
and so, blundering on, we grow wiser, till, when the time comes, we
are ready to take our places among the wonderful grown-up people who
never make mistakes.
CHAPTER II.
A NEW YEAR AND A NEW PLAN.
When summer lingers on into October, it often seems as if winter,
anxious to catch a glimpse of her, hurries a little; and so people
are cheated out of their autumn. It was so that year. Almost as
soon as it ceased to be hot it began to be cold. The leaves, instead
of drifting away in soft, dying colors, like sunset clouds, turned
yellow all at once; and were whirled off the trees in a single gusty
night, leaving every thing bare and desolate. Thanksgiving came; and
before the smell of the turkey was fairly out of the house, it was
time to hang up stockings and dress the Christmas tree. They had a
tree that year in honor of Katy's being downstairs. Cecy, who had
gone away to boarding-school, came home; and it was all delightful,
except that the days flew too fast. Clover said it seemed to her
very queer that there was so much less time than usual in the world.
She couldn't imagine what had become of it: there used to be plenty.
And she was certain that Dorry must have been tinkering all the
clocks,--they struck so often.
It was just after New Year that Dr. Carr walked in one day with a
letter in his hand, and remarked: "Mr. and Mrs. Page are coming to
stay with us."
"Mr. and Mrs. Page," repeated Katy; "who are they, papa? Did I ever
see them?"
"Once, when you were four years old, and Elsie a baby. Of chouse you
don't remember it."
"But who are they, papa?"
"Mrs. Page was your dear mother's second cousin; and at one time she
lived in your grandfather's family, and was like a sister to mamma and
Uncle Charles. It is a good many years since I have seen her. Mr.
Page is a railroad engineer. He is coming this way on business, and
they will stop for a few days with us. Your Cousin Olivia writes that
she is anxious to see all you children. Have every thing as nice as
you can, Katy."
"Of course, I will. What day are the coming?"
"Thursday,--no, Friday," replied Dr. Carr, consulting the letter,
"Friday evening, at half-past six. Order something substantial for
tea that night, Katy. They'll be hungry after traveling."
Katy worked with a will for the next two days. Twenty times, at least,
she went into the blue room to make sure that nothing was forgotten;
repeating, as if it had been a lesson in geography: "Bath towels, face
towels, matches, soap, candles, cologne, extra blanket, ink." A nice
little fire was lighted in the bedroom on Friday afternoon, and a big,
beautiful one in the parlor, which looked very pleasant with the lamp
lit and Clover's geraniums and china roses in the window. The tea-
table was set with the best linen and the pink-and-white china.
Debby's muffins were very light. The crab-apple jelly came out of
its mould clear and whole, and the cold chicken looked appetizing,
with its green wreath of parsley. There was stewed potato, too, and,
of course, oysters. Everybody in Burnet had oysters for tea when
company was expected. They were counted a special treat; because
they were rather dear, and could not always be procured. Burnet
was a thousand miles from the sea, so the oysters were of the tin-
can variety. The cans gave the oysters a curious taste,--tinny, or
was it more like solder? At all events, Burnet people liked it, and
always insisted that it was a striking improvement on the flavor
which oysters have on their native shores. Every thing was as nice
as could be, when Katy stood in the dining-room to take a last look
at her arrangements; and she hoped papa would be pleased, and that
mamma's cousin would think her a good housekeeper.
"I don't want to have on my other jacket," observed Phil, putting his
head in at the door. "Need I? This is nice."
"Let me see," said Katy, gently turning him round. "Well, it does
pretty well; but I think I'd rather you should put on the other, if
you don't mind much. We want every thing as nice as possible, you
know; because this is papa's company, and he hardly ever has any."
"Just one little sticky place isn't much," said Phil, rather gloomily,
wetting his finger a rubbing at a shiny place on his sleeve. "Do you
really thing I'd better? Well, then I will."
"That's a dear,"--kissing him. "Be quick, Philly, for it's almost
time they were here. And please tell Dorry to make haste. It's
ever so long since he went upstairs."
"Dorry's an awful prink," remarked Phil, confidentially. "He looks
in the glass, and makes faces if he can't get his parting straight.
I wouldn't care so much about my clothes for a good deal. It's like
a girl. Jim Slack says a boy who shines his hair up like that,
never'll get to be president, not if he lives a thousand years."
"Well," said Katy, laughing: "it's something to be clean, even if you
can't be president." She was not at all alarmed by Dorry's recent
reaction in favor of personal adornment. He came down pretty soon,
very spick and span in his best suit, and asked her to fasten the
blue ribbon under his collar, which she did most obligingly; though
he was very particular as to the size of the bows and length of the
ends, and made her tie and retie more than once. She had just
arranged it to suit him when a carriage stopped.
"There they are," she cried. "Run and open the door, Dorry."
Dorry did so; and Katy, following, found papa ushering in a tall
gentleman, and a lady who was not tall, but whose Roman nose and
long neck, and general air of style and fashion, made her look so.
Katy bent quite over to be kissed; but for all that she felt small
and young and unformed, as the eyes of mamma's cousin looked her
over and over, and through and through, and Mrs. Page said,--
"Why, Philip! is it possible that this tall girl is one of yours?
Dear me! how time flies! I was thinking of the little creatures I
saw when I was here last. And this other great creature can't be
Elsie? That mite of a baby! Impossible! I cannot realize it. I
really cannot realize it in the least."
"Won't you come to the fire, Mrs. Page?" said Katy, rather timidly.
"Don't call me Mrs. Page, my dear. Call me Cousin Olivia." Then the
new-comer rustled into the parlor, where Johnnie and Phil were waiting
to be introduced; and again she remarked that she "couldn't realize
it." I don't know why Mrs. Page's not realizing it should have made
Katy uncomfortable; but it did.
Supper went off well. The guests ate and praised; and Dr. Carr looked
pleased, and said: "We think Katy an excellent housekeeper for her age;"
at which Katy blushed and was delighted, till she caught Mrs. Page's
eyes fixed upon her, with a look of scrutiny and amusement, whereupon
she felt awkward and ill at ease. It was so all the evening. Mamma's
cousin was entertaining and bright, and told lively stories; but the
children felt that she was watching them, and passing judgment on
their ways. Children are very quick to suspect when older people
hold within themselves these little private courts of inquiry, and
they always resent it.
Next morning Mrs. Page sat by while Katy washed the breakfast things,
fed the birds, and did various odd jobs about the room and house. "My
dear," she said at last, "what a solemn girl you are! I should think
from your face that you were at least five and thirty. Don't you ever
laugh or frolic, like other girls your age? Why, my Lilly, who is
four months older than you, is a perfect child still; impulsive as a
baby, bubbling over with fun from morning till night."
"I've been shut up a good deal," said Katy, trying to defend herself;
"but I didn't know I was solemn."
"My dear, that's the very thing I complain of: you don't know it!
You are altogether ahead of your age. It's very bad for you, in my
opinion. All this housekeeping and care, for young girls like you
and Clover, is wrong and unnatural. I don't like it; indeed I don't."
"Oh! housekeeping doesn't hurt me a bit," protested Katy, trying to
smile. "We have lovely times; indeed we do, Cousin Olivia."
Cousin Olivia only pursed up her mouth, and repeated: "It's wrong, my
dear. It's unnatural. It's not the thing for you. Depend upon it,
it's not the thing."
This was unpleasant; but what was worse had Katy known it, Mrs. Page
attacked Dr. Carr upon the subject. He was quite troubled to learn
that she considered Katy grave and careworn, and unlike what girls
of her age should be. Katy caught him looking at her with a puzzled
expression.
"What is it, dear papa? Do you want anything?"
"No, child, nothing. What are you doing there? Mending the parlor
curtain, eh? Can't old Mary attend to that, and give you a chance
to frisk about with the other girls?"
"Papa! As if I wanted to frisk! I declare you're as bad as Cousin
Olivia. She's always telling me that I ought to bubble over with
mirth. I don't wish to bubble. I don't know how."
"I'm afraid you don't," said Dr. Carr, with an odd sigh, which set
Katy to wondering. What should papa sigh for? Had she done any
thing wrong? She began to rack her brains and memory as to whether
it could be this or that; or, if not, what could it be? Such needless
self-examination does no good. Katy looked more "solemn" than ever
after it.
Altogether, Mrs. Page was not a favorite in the family. She had every
intention of being kind to her cousin's children, "so dreadfully in
want of a mother, poor things!" but she could not hide the fact that
their ways puzzled and did not please her; and the children detected
this, as children always will. She and Mr. Page were very polite.
They praised the housekeeping, and the excellent order or every
thing, and said there never were better children in the world than
John and Dorry and Phil. But, through all, Katy perceived the hidden
disapproval; and she couldn't help feeling glad when the visit ended,
and they went away.
With their departure, matters went back to their old train, and Katy
forgot her disagreeable feelings. Papa seemed a little grave and
preoccupied; but the doctors often are when they have bad cases to
think of, and nobody noticed it particularly, or remarked that several
letters came from Mrs. Page, and nothing was heard of their contents,
except that "Cousin Olivia sent her love." So it was a shock, when
one day papa called Katy into the study to tell of a new plan. She
knew at once that it was something important when she heard his voice:
it sounded so grave. Beside, he said "My daughter," he began, "I want
to talk to you about something which I have been thinking of. How
would you and Clover like going away to school together?"
"To school? To Mrs. Knight's?"
"No, not to Mrs. Knight's. To a boarding-school at the East, where
Lilly Page has been for two years. Didn't you hear Cousin Olivia
speak of it when she was here?"
"I believe I did. But, papa, you won't really?"
"Yes, I think so," said Dr. Carr, gently. "Listen, Katy, and don't
feel so badly, my dear child. I've thought the plan over carefully;
and it seems to me a good one, though I hate to part from you. It
is pretty much as your cousin says: these home-cares, which I can't
take from you while you are at home, are making you old before your
time. Heaven knows I don't want to turn you into a silly giggling
miss; but I should like you to enjoy your youth while you have it,
and not grow middle-aged before you are twenty."
"What is the name of the school?" asked Katy. Her voice sound a good
deal like a sob.
"The girls call it 'The Nunnery.' It is at Hillsover, on the
Connecticut River, pretty cold, I fancy; but the air is sure to be
good and bracing. That is one thing which has inclined me to the
plan. The climate is just what you need."
"Hillsover? Isn't there a college there too?"
"Yes: Arrowmouth College. I believe there is always a college where
there is a boarding-school; though why, I can't for the life of me
imagine. That's neither here nor there, however. I'm not afraid
of your getting into silly scrapes, as girls sometimes do."
"College scrapes? Why, how could I. We don't have any thing to do
with the college, do we?" said Katy, opening her candid eyes with such
a wondering stare that Dr. Carr laughed and replied: "No, my dear, not
a thing."
"The term opens the third week in April," he went on. "You must begin
to get ready at once. Mrs. Hall has just fitted out Cecy: so she can
tell you what you will need. You'd better consult her, to-morrow."
"But, papa," cried Katy, beginning to realize it, "what are _you_
going to do? Elsie's a darling, but she's so very little. I don't
see how you can possibly manage. I'm sure you'll miss us, and so
will the children."
"I rather think we shall," said Dr. Carr, with a smile, which ended
in a sigh; "but we shall do very well, Katy; never fear. Miss Finch
will see to us."
"Miss Finch? Do you mean Mrs. Knight's sister-in-law?"
"Yes. Her mother died in the summer; so she has no particular home
now, and is glad to come for a year and keep house for us. Mrs.
Knight says she is a good manager; and I dare say she'll fill your
place sufficiently well, as far as that goes. We can't expect her
to be _you_, you know: that would be unreasonable." And Dr. Carr
put his arm round Katy, and kissed her so fondly that she was quite
overcome and clung to him, crying,--
"O papa! don't make us go. I'll frisk, and be as young as I can, and
not grow middle-aged or any thing disagreeable, if only you'll let us
stay. Never mind what Cousin Olivia says; she doesn't know. Cousin
Helen wouldn't say so, I'm sure."
"On the contrary, Helen thinks well of the plan; only she wishes the
school were nearer," said Dr. Carr. "No, Katy, don't coax. My mind
is made up. It will do you and Clover both good, and once you are
settled at Hillsover, you'll be very happy, I hope."
When papa spoke in this decided tone, it was never any use to urge
him. Katy knew this, and ceased her pleadings. She went to find
Clover and tell her the news, and the two girls had a hearty cry
together. A sort of "clearing-up shower" it turned out to be; for
when once they had wiped their eyes, every thing looked brighter,
and they began to see a pleasant side to the plan.
"The travelling part of it will be very nice," pronounced Clover.
"We never went so far away from home before."
Elsie, who was still looking very woeful, burst into tears afresh at
this remark.
"Oh, don't darling!" said Katy. "Think how pleasant it will be to
send letters, and to get them from us. I shall write to you every
Saturday. Run for the big atlas,--there's a dear, and let us see
where we are going."
Elsie brought the atlas; and the three heads bent eagerly over it,
as Clover traced the route of the journey with her forefinger. How
exciting it looked! There was the railroad, twisting and curving over
half-a-dozen States. The black dots which followed it were towns and
villages, all of which they should see. By and by the road made a
bend, and swept northward by the side of the Connecticut River and
toward the hills. They had heard how beautiful the Connecticut
valley is.
"Only think! we shall be close to it," remarked Clover; "and we shall
see the hills. I suppose they are very high, a great deal higher than
the hill at Bolton."
"I hope so," laughed Dr. Carr, who came into the room just then. The
hill at Bolton was one of his favorite jokes. When mamma first came
to Burnet, she had paid a visit to some friends at Bolton, and one
day, when they were all out walking, they asked her if she felt strong
enough to go to the top of the hill. Mamma was used to hills, so she
said yes, and walked on, very glad to find that there was a hill in
that flat country, but wondering a little why they did not see it. At
last she asked where it was, and, behold, they had just reached the
top! The slope had been so gradual that she had never found out that
they were going uphill at all. Dr. Carr had told this story to the
children, but had never been able to make them see the joke very
clearly. In fact, when Clover went to Bolton, she was quite struck
with the hill: it was so much higher than the sand-bank which bordered
the lake at Burnet.
There was a great deal to do to make the girls ready for school by
the third week in April. Mrs. Hall was very kind, and her advice was
sensible; though, except for Dr. Carr, the girls would hardly have had
furs and flannels enough for so cold a place as Hillsover. Every
thing for winter as well as for summer had to be thought of; for it
had been arranged that the girls should not come home for the autumn
vacation, but should spend it with Mrs. Page. This was the hardest
thing about the plan. Katy begged very hard for Christmas; but when
she learned that it would take three days to come and three days to
go, and that the holidays lasted less than a week, she saw it was of
no use, and gave up the idea, while Elsie tried to comfort herself by
planning a Christmas-box. The preparations kept them so busy that
there was no time for any thing else. Mrs. Hall was always wanting
them to go with her to shops, or Miss Petingill demanding that they
should try on linings, and so the days flew by. At last all was
ready. The nice half-dozens of pretty underclothes came home from
the sewing-machine woman's, and were done up by Bridget, who dropped
many a tear into the bluing water, at the thought of the young ladies
going away. Mrs. Hall, who was a good packer, put the things into
the new trunks. Everybody gave the girls presents, as if they had
been brides starting on a wedding journey.
Papa's was a watch for each. They were not new, but the girls thought
them beautiful. Katy's had belonged to her mother. It was large and
old-fashioned, with a finely wrought case. Clover's, which had been
her grandmother's, was larger still. It had a quaint ornament on the
back,--a sort of true-love knot, done in gold of different tints. The
girls were excessively pleased with these watches. They wore them with
guard-chains of black watered ribbon, and every other minute they
looked to see what the time was.
Elsie had been in papa's confidence, so her presents were watch cases,
embroidered on perforated paper. Johnnie gave Katy a case of pencils,
and Clover a pen-knife with a pearl handle. Dorry and Phil clubbed to
buy a box of note-paper and envelopes, which the girls were requested
to divide between them. Miss Petingill contributed a bottle of ginger
balsam, and a box of opodeldoc salve, to be used in case of possible
chilblains. Old Mary's offering was a couple of needle-books, full of
bright sharp needles.
"I wouldn't give you scissors," she said; "but you can't cut love--or,
for the matter of that, any thing else--with a needle."
Miss Finch, the new housekeeper, arrived a few days before they
started: so Katy had time to take her over the house and explain all
the different things she wanted done and not done, to secure papa's
comfort and the children's. Miss Finch was meek and gentle. She
seemed glad of a comfortable home. And Katy felt that she would be
kind to the boys, and not fret Debby, and drive her into marrying
Alexander and going away,--an event which Aunt Izzie had been used to
predict. Now that all was settled, she and Clover found themselves
looking forward to the change with pleasure. There was something new
and interesting about it which excited their imaginations.
The last evening was a melancholy one. Elsie had been too much
absorbed in the preparations to realize her loss; but, when it came
to locking the trunks, her courage gave way altogether. She was in
such a state of affliction that everybody else became afflicted too;
and there is no knowing what would have happened, had not a parcel
arrived by express and distracted their attention. The parcel was
from Cousin Helen, whose things, like herself, had a knack of coming
at the moment when most wanted. It contained two pretty silk
umbrellas--one brown, and one dark-green, with Katy's initials on
one handle and Clover's on the other. Opening these treasures,
and exclaiming over them, helped the family through the evening
wonderfully; and next morning there was such a bustle of getting
off that nobody had time to cry.
After the last kisses had been given, and Philly, who had climbed on
the horse-block, was clamoring for "one more,--just one more," Dr.
Carr, looking at the sober faces, was struck by a bright idea, and,
calling Alexander, told him to hurry old Whitey into the carryall,
and drive the children down to Willett's Point, that they might wave
there handkerchiefs to the boat as she went by. This suggestion
worked like a charm on the spirits of the party. Phil began to caper,
and Elsie and John ran in to get their hats. Half an hour later, when
the boat rounded the point, there stood the little crew, radiant with
smiles, fluttering the handkerchiefs and kissing their hands as
cheerfully as possible. It was a pleasant last look to the two
who stood beside papa on the deck; and, as they waved back their
greetings to the little ones, and then looked forward across the
blue water to the unknown places they were going to see, Katy and
Clover felt that the new life opened well, and promised to be very
interesting indeed.