KATY MAKES A PROMISE
GRANDMOTHER GAUMER was not dead. When the squire and the doctor reached
her side, she sat just as Katy left her, erect, motionless, bright-eyed.
They put her to bed and there she lay with the same bright, helpless
gaze.
"Can you understand me?" asked the doctor gently.
The expression in the brown eyes changed. The flash of perception was
almost invisible, but it was there; to the eyes of Katy who stood by the
bed, breathless, terrified, it was as welcome as the cry of a first-born
child to its mother.
"She is conscious," the doctor assured them.
Uncle Edwin and Aunt Sally, whom Katy considered so dull, returned
presently in tearful haste from their farm at the edge of the town. They
sat with grandmother while the doctor gave directions for the night to
Katy in the kitchen.
Katy looked at the doctor wildly. The lamp cast dark shadows into the
corners of the room; it surrounded Katy with a glare of light. Her hands
clasped and unclasped, tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Will my grandmother die?" asked Katy in a hollow voice.
Young Dr. Benner looked down upon her. He had not given so much thought
of late to the development of his protégé. He had met in the county seat
an older lady who had taken his fancy, who needed no improvement, and
whose mind was already sufficiently developed to suit his ideas. He
looked now at Katy through narrowed eyelids. He suddenly remembered the
great plans he had had for her and the greater plans she had had for
herself. He began to wonder what Katy's life would be like, he who had
just a little while ago been planning it so carefully! He heard in that
instant's pause a clear whistle from the direction of the garden, and he
decided without knowing the identity of the whistler that there would
sooner or later be that sort of complication in Katy's life which would
end her education, even if her grandmother's need of her did not. He was
so busy with his speculations that he did not answer Katy's question
until she was faint with apprehension.
Katy was a sensitive creature; she was suddenly aware of the changed,
absent way in which he regarded her. She remembered that it was a long
time since the doctor had invited her to ride with him, a long time
since he had said anything to her about singing.
"My gran'mom is all I have in this world," she reminded him with piteous
dignity.
"No, Katy." The doctor came back to reality with a start. "She will not
die."
His expression terrified Katy.
"Then, when will she be well again?"
"I cannot say."
The whistle sounded again from beyond the garden wall. This time it
penetrated to the consciousness of Katy, who, hearing it, blushed. No
one but Alvin Koehler could produce so sweet and clear a note. For the
first time he had called her. The night was warm and bright, and the
breeze carried the odor of honeysuckle and jasmine into the kitchen. The
beauty of the night seemed mocking. Katy's heart cried out angrily
against the trouble which had come upon her, against the greater grief
which now threatened.
"You mean that she will be sick a long, long time?"
"Possibly."
Katy clasped and unclasped her hands.
"You do not mean that perhaps she will never be well?"
"I do not believe she can ever be well, Katy." The doctor now laid his
hand on Katy's shoulder.
Katy moved away, her hand on her side, as if to sustain the weight of a
heavy heart.
"What am I to do for her?"
The doctor gave directions about the medicines, and then went across the
yard to sit with the squire in his office. When he had gone, Katy stood
for a moment perfectly still in the middle of the room. The whistle did
not come again; Alvin, approaching the house without knowing anything of
Grandmother Gaumer's illness, saw suddenly that the house was more
brightly lighted than usual and stole away.
For an instant Katy stood still, then she crossed the room and opened
the door which led into the dim front of the house, and went into the
parlor. There she sat down on the high, slippery haircloth sofa.
Presently she turned her head and laid her cheek against the smooth,
cool surface of the arm. Overhead she could hear the sound of Uncle
Edwin's soft, heavy tread, the sound of his deep voice as he spoke to
Grandmother Gaumer or to Aunt Sally. Uncle Edwin was a good man, Katy
said to herself absently, her mind dwelling upon a theme in which it
took at that moment no interest; Uncle Edwin was a good man, but he was
not a very smart man. He had never gone to school--to school--Katy found
herself repeating that magic word. It brought fully into the light of
consciousness the dread question which had been lingering just outside.
If Grandmother Gaumer were to be a long time sick, who would take care
of her? Uncle Edwin and Aunt Sally were kind, but they had their farm on
the outskirts of Millerstown; they could not leave it.
"But I must have my education," whispered Katy to the smooth surface of
the old sofa. "This is my time in life for education. Afterwards the
mind gets dull, and you cannot learn. It is right that I should have a
chance to learn."
Then Katy sat up; from the room above Uncle Edwin called her. "Ach,
Katy, come once here!"
"I am coming," answered Katy as she flew.
In the sick-room her uncle and aunt welcomed her with relief. To them
Katy was always a sort of wonder child. They had wanted to adopt her
when she was a little girl; they had always loved her as they loved
their own little Adam.
"We cannot make out what she wants, Katy. Perhaps it is you she wants."
Katy looked about the room, at the stout, disturbed uncle and aunt, then
at the great bedstead, with its high feather bed, its plump pillows.
Grandmother Gaumer's hair had been covered by a close-fitting cap; the
sheet was drawn up under her chin; she seemed to have shrunk to a pair
of eyes. But they were eyes into which the life of the body was
concentrated. Katy almost covered her own as she met them, her throat
contracted, all emotions combined into one overwhelming sensation.
"I will stay here now," announced Katy. "Aunt Sally, you can go home,
and Uncle Edwin, if he is to stay all night here, can go to bed, and if
I need anything I will call him."
Thus Katy, the dictator. When they had obeyed, Katy crossed the room to
her grandmother's side. To such an interview as this there could be no
witnesses.
"No one else is going to take care of you, gran'mom," promised Katy. "No
one can travel so fast and talk so much." She leaned over and laid her
hand on her grandmother's cheek. "I am going to stay with you to-night
and to-morrow night and always. I am never going to leave you. I care
for schooling, but I care more for you. You raised me from little when I
had no father and mother to take care of me. I will remember what you
said about gran'pop, and I will try to be like him. _Do you understand
me?_" besought Katy in a sudden agony of fright.
The brown eyes answered, or Katy thought they answered.
"Well, then," said Katy. "Now I will read you a chapter and then you
will go to sleep."