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[Illustration: Frontispiece THE TWO WAYS.]
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DOWN THE SNOW STAIRS;
OR,
FROM GOOD-NIGHT TO GOOD-MORNING.
BY ALICE CORKRAN,
Author of “Margery Merton’s Girlhood,” etc., etc.
WITH SIXTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON BROWNE.
[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo]
NEW YORK:
A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER.
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CONTENTS.
----------
CHAP. PAGE
I. Christmas Eve 1
II. Kitty and Johnnie 17
III. Down the Snow Stairs 34
IV. Naughty Children Land 48
V. “To Daddy Coax’s House” 67
VI. Daddy Coax 85
VII. On the Other Side of the 112
Stream
VIII. Pictures in the Fog 122
IX. Love Speaks 151
X. In the Wood 162
XI. Kitty Dances with Strange 177
Partners
XII. “Eat or Be Eaten” 192
XIII. Play-Ground, and After 206
XIV. “I and Myself” 215
XV. Was it Johnnie’s Face? 229
XVI. At the Gate 242
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
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PAGE
The Two Ways FRONTISPIECE.
Restless Kitty 1
Johnnie and His Art Treasures 5
The Snow-Man 16
Down the Wide Staircase 16
Kitty’s Tears 22
Sliding Down the Balusters 28
The Snow-Man Visits Kitty 35
Following the Snow-Man 39
The Drollest Creature 40
Kitty and the Elf 45
Broken Toy Land 49
A Dismal Chorus 51
“A black creature glared at 54
her”
A Disagreeable Acquaintance 56
Little Cruel-Heart 61
A Good Fight 64
The Song of the Sillies 69
“I am not vain” 73
A Jam-Tart Too Many 78
Kitty and Daddy Coax 87
A Lively Wig 89
Sweetening the Fury 95
All Jam and No Powder 98
Little Spitfire 100
The Fight for the Flute 108
The Shadow of the Rod 111
“Peering out of the mist” 114
The White-Robed Stranger 119
Entangled in the Web 123
The Tramp of Weary Feet 126
Ice-Children 130
The Right One to Kick 133
A Hard Lesson 139
“Oh, to be hungry again!” 141
Faces! Faces!—a World of 145
Faces!
The Cry for the Kiss 152
Kitty’s Guardian Child 155
Kitty’s Naughty-Self Goblin 161
The Hanging Dwarf 166
Goblin Sloth 169
“Real yawning” 172
“At one bound she sprang 176
across”
The Frog-Like One 178
Step, Wriggle, and Bow 181
The Little Courtiers 185
Kitty’s Musings 188
Apple-Pie Corner 193
The Boy with the Suetty Voice 199
Struggling Onward 204
I and Myself 217
Mr. Take-care-of-himself 220
“A cripple like Johnnie” 226
A Merry Game 232
The Goblin Crew 236
Out of the Mist 241
At the Locked Gate 244
The Mist of Punishment Land 248
Home Again 251
“It is a secret” 254
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[Illustration]
CHAPTER I
CHRISTMAS EVE.
TOSS! toss! from one side to the other; still Kitty could not sleep.
The big round moon looked in at the window, for the curtain had not been
drawn, and it made a picture of the window on the wall opposite, and
showed the pattern on the paper; nosegays of roses, tied with blue
ribbon; roses and knots of blue ribbon; like no roses Kitty had ever
seen, and no blue ribbon she had ever bought.
Toss! toss! toss! she shut her eyes not to see the picture of the window
on the wall or the roses and the blue ribbon, yet she could not go to
sleep. It was always toss! toss! from one side to the other.
It was Christmas Eve, and outside the world was white with snow.
“It had been a dreadful day,” Kitty said to herself. “The last nine days
had been dreadful days, and this had been the dreadfulest of all.”
Her brother Johnnie was very ill; he was six years old, just two years
younger than herself; but he was much smaller, being a tiny cripple.
Next to her mother Kitty loved him more than anybody in the whole world.
All through those “dreadful” nine days she had not been allowed to see
him. She had many times knelt outside his door, and listened to his
feeble moan, but she had not been permitted to enter his room.
That morning she had asked the doctor if she could see Johnnie, as it
was Christmas Eve. The doctor had shaken his head and patted her hair.
“He must not be excited; he is still very ill. If he gets better after
to-night—then—perhaps!” he said.
She had overheard what he whispered to Nurse. “To-night will decide; if
he pulls through to-night.”
All day Kitty had thought of those words.
“To-night, if he pulls through to-night.” What did they mean? did they
mean that Johnnie might die to-night?
She had waited outside Johnnie’s room; but her mother had said, “No; you
cannot go in;” and Nurse had said, “You will make Johnnie worse if you
stand about, and he hears your step.”
Kitty’s heart was full of misery. “It was unkind not to let me in to see
Johnnie,” she said again and again to herself. She loved him so much!
She loved him so much! Then there was a “dreadful” reason why his
illness was worse for her to bear than for any one else. Kitty
remembered that ten days ago there had been a snow-storm; when the snow
had ceased she had gone out and made snowballs in the garden, and she
had asked her mother if Johnnie might come out and make snow-balls also.
“On no account,” her mother had answered; “Johnnie is weak; if he caught
a cold it would be very bad for him.”
Kitty remembered how the next morning she had gone into the meadow
leading out of the garden. There the gardener had helped her to make a
snow-man; and they had put a pipe into his mouth. She had danced around
the snow-man, and she had longed for Johnnie to see it.
Kitty remembered how she had run indoors and found Johnnie sitting by
the fire in his low crimson chair, his tiny crutch beside him, his
paint-box on the little table before him. He was painting a yellow sun,
with rays all round it.
It was Johnnie’s delight to paint. He would make stories about his
pictures; he told those stories to Kitty only. They were secrets. He
kept his pictures in an old tea-chest which their mother had given him,
and it had a lock and key. Johnnie kept all his treasures there—all his
little treasures, all his little secrets. They were so pretty and so
pitiful! They were his tiny pleasures in life. Johnnie was painting
“Good Children Land” and “Naughty Children Land.” Good Children Land he
painted in beautiful yellow gamboge; Naughty Children Land in black
India ink.
[Illustration]
Kitty in her bed to-night seemed to see the whole scene, and to hear her
own and Johnnie’s voices talking. She had rushed in, and Johnnie had
looked up, and he had begun to tell her the story of his picture.
“Look, Kitty!” he had said; “this is the portrait of the naughtiest
child, the very, very naughtiest that ever was; and he has come into
Good Children Land—by mistake, you know. Look! he has furry legs like a
goat, and horns and a tail, just because he is so naughty; but he is
going to become good. I will paint him getting good in my next picture.”
Kitty remembered how she had just glanced at the picture; “the
naughtiest child that ever was” looked rather like a big blot with a
tail, standing in front of the yellow sun. But she had been so full of
the thought of the snow-man that she had begun to speak about him at
once.
“Oh, Johnnie!” she had said, skipping about first on one foot, then on
the other. “The gardener and I have made such a snow-man. He’s as big as
the gardener, and ever so much fatter; and he’s got hands, but no legs,
only a stump, you know; and we’ve put a pipe into his mouth.”
[Illustration: THE SNOW-MAN.—Page 6.]
At this description Johnnie’s eyes had sparkled, and he had cried, “Oh!
I wish I could see him!”
Then she had gone on to say, still skipping about: “He has two holes for
his eyes, and they seem to look at me; and his face is as round as a
plate; he just looks like the man in the moon smoking a pipe.”
This description had roused Johnnie’s excitement, and he had stretched
an eager little hand toward his crutch.
“Please take me to see him! please take me to see him!” he had
entreated.
Kitty remembered that she had hesitated. “I am afraid it would give you
a cold,” she had said, looking at Johnnie with her head on one side.
“I shall put on my hat and comforter,” Johnnie had replied, grasping his
crutch.
Still, she remembered, she had hesitated.
Her mother had said, “Johnnie must not go out in the snow.” But then
Kitty had thought: “The sun is shining; and it will be for a moment
only.” She did so long for Johnnie to see the snow-man, and he wished it
so much. She remembered she had thought: “It can do him no harm just for
a moment.”
She had helped Johnnie on with his overcoat, and wrapped his comforter
round him, and put on his hat, and together they had gone out. There was
no one in the hall, or on the stairs; they had gone out unobserved.
Johnnie had not a notion he was disobeying his mother. His tiny crutch
danced merrily along with a muffled thud in the snow. He swung his small
body as he hopped along; and he laughed as he looked round on the
glistening white garden. So brisk and joyous was his laugh that Kitty
had thought it was like the crow of a little cock. When Johnnie saw the
snow-man he shouted a feeble hurrah! and he laughed more and more
merrily as Kitty danced about and pelted the snow-man with snow-balls.
Kitty remembered how she had gone on dancing awhile. Then all at once
she noticed that Johnnie looked pinched and blue. She had run up to him,
just in time to catch him as he was falling; his arm had lost its power,
and his crutch had dropped. She had held him tight; but he looked so
pale and thin that she thought he was going to die. Her screams had
brought the gardener to the rescue, and Johnnie had been carried
indoors. That night Johnnie’s illness had begun, and ever since the
doctor had come twice a day.
Kitty had never been able to tell any one of the load that had been
weighing on her heart during those nine “dreadful days.” Once she had
tried to say it to her mother; but she burst into such a fit of sobbing
that the words refused to come. No one had reproached her for having
taken Johnnie out, no one had even mentioned it to her; but she knew it
was she who had brought all this suffering on him. She who loved him so
much! she who loved him so much!
As she was thinking of all this a voice sounded by her bedside; it said:
“Now, missy dear, you must not take on so. You must not fret. Look what
old cooksie-coaxy has brought you—a mince-pie—a big—beautiful
mince-pie—all for missy—alone.”
It was cook who had stolen softly into the room. She was a fat,
good-natured soul, and she spoilt Kitty terribly. All during that sad
week cook had petted her, giving her cakes and sweets. She had kept
assuring Kitty she was the dearest, best little girl in the
world—“Cooksie-coaxy’s little angel-darling, and that Johnnie would soon
get quite well.”
This sympathy had sometimes been very agreeable to Kitty, and she had
accepted it and the sweet things it brought gratefully; but at other
times she had repelled it, feeling angry with cook for saying what was
not true only to please her.
Now Kitty buried her face deeper in the pillow, stopped her ears, and
waved away cook and the mince-pie with an impatient elbow.
“Go away! go away!” she cried. “You spoil me; mamma says you spoil me. I
would not be so naughty if you did not spoil me.”
Cook continued to hold out the mince-pie, but Kitty would not look
round.
“Go away! go away!” she repeated.
Poor cook departed, leaving the mince-pie on a chair by Kitty’s bed. As
she reached the door she looked round, and murmured: “Poor little dear,
she doesn’t mean to be unkind to old cooksie-coaxy.”
Toss! toss! went Kitty again as soon as she was left alone. She had
never been so wakeful.
It was as if some little creature was sitting on her pillow and talking
to her. It was not a real voice; it was her memory that was wide awake.
“You have teased Johnnie,” it said. “He is so helpless. And how often
when he has asked for his treasures you have brought him rulers, books,
all sorts of things he did not want. Did you see the gush of tears in
his eyes when you continued to tease, and when you ceased, the grateful,
forgiving little lips put up to kiss you?”
As Kitty listened she tossed about even more restlessly.
Presently the voice that was her memory went on again: “There was that
peach last summer; your mother gave it you to share with Johnnie. You
gave him the smaller half; you kept the bigger one for yourself.”
Kitty tried not to hear, but the voice went on speaking: “How often you
have run out to amuse yourself and left him pining alone. Do you
remember that day when the Punch and Judy man brought his show into the
garden, how impatient you were? Tap! tap! his eager little crutch could
scarcely follow you. You dropped his hand suddenly and he fell to the
ground. What a piteous, helpless little heap he looked. He could not
raise himself; but when you lifted him he stroked your cheek and said:
‘Never mind, Kitsie,’ and he never told. Do you remember how pale he
looked all day, as if he were in pain?”
Kitty could not bear listening to that voice any longer, so she sat up
in bed. And there, on the wall opposite, there seemed written in the
moonlight what the doctor had said: “If he pulls through to-night.”
Did it mean that Johnnie might die to-night?
She must see Johnnie—she must. She would be so gentle, so good. If he
would only get well again she would never tease him again—she would
never be impatient—she would always be good to him. She would put aside
all her money and buy toys for him to put into his treasure-box.
If they would only let her in she would creep into his room, sit by his
bedside, and hold his hand. She would tell him the story of the “Blue
Rose,” which she had invented out of her own head and which he liked so
much.
Kitty now went over the story to herself.
“There was a garden to which a fairy with blue wings and a blue hat had
told her the way. It was very difficult to find, and it was a secret.
But there was a rose in that garden, just like any other rose, only it
was much bigger, and it had more leaves and a sweeter smell, and it was
blue, and the fairy said if Johnnie smelt it he would get quite well.
Then she and Johnnie [in the story] went off together, and they had a
great many adventures. They had met robbers and giants, and they lost
their way in a wood, and all sorts of terrible things had happened. But
she had taken such care of Johnnie. She had protected him from the
robbers, she had deluded the giants and sent them to sleep, and at last
she and Johnnie had come to the garden. Such a garden—full of lovely
flowers! and right in the middle of the garden there was a blue rose,
exactly the color of the fairy’s wings and hat. It was set round with
thorns, but Kitty did not care one bit. She pushed her arm right through
the thorns. It would get all scratched, but she did not mind. She would
pluck the blue rose and give it to Johnnie. He would smell it, and at
the first whiff his leg would grow straight; he would smell it again and
his leg would grow strong; he would smell it a third time and he would
throw down his crutch, he would begin to jump about and dance. They
would play games of hide-and-seek and run races, and Johnnie would run
faster than she could. They would come home together, and everybody
would wonder; but they would not say a word about the ‘blue rose.’ It
was a secret.”
This story had been quite a little story when Kitty had first made it
out of her own head; but Johnnie had added bits to it. He had put in
about the giants, and about a tiger with glaring green eyes going to
spring upon him just as they found the gate of the garden.
The more she thought of all these things the more Kitty felt she must
see Johnnie.
Out went one bare foot from under the coverlid, and still there in the
moonlight it seemed to be written: “To-morrow is Christmas Day and there
may be no Johnnie.”
This might be Johnnie’s last night. Kitty felt she would cry out if she
did not see him, and out of bed went the other bare foot.
The clock struck the half-hour; it was half-past nine. How silent the
house was! Her mother was lying down. Nurse was with Johnnie. If only
she would come out of his room! She wished with all the might of her
little heart nurse would come out. But nothing stirred through the
house. Yes, after awhile she heard a slight noise, a door was creaking
below. It was Johnnie’s door. She heard a step. Out of bed dashed Kitty.
She ran into the lobby; she looked over the balusters.
[Illustration]
Yes, it was nurse going downstairs to the kitchen. She saw her white cap
and apron distinctly. Kitty’s heart seemed to stop beating. The kitchen
door closed after nurse. Hush!
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