What Katy Did

by Susan Coolidge

  CHAPTER IX

  DISMAL DAYS

  If anybody had told Katy, that first afternoon, that at the end of aweek she would still be in bed, and in pain, and with no time fixed forgetting up, I think it would have almost killed her. She was so restlessand eager, that to lie still seemed one of the hardest things in theworld. But to lie still and have her back ache all the time, was worseyet. Day after day she asked Papa with quivering lip: "Mayn't I get upand go down stairs this morning?" And when he shook his head, the lipwould quiver more, and tears would come. But if she tried to get up, ithurt her so much, that in spite of herself she was glad to sink backagain on the soft pillows and mattress, which felt so comfortable to herpoor bones.

  Then there came a time when Katy didn't even ask to be allowed to getup. A time when sharp, dreadful pain, such as she never imaginedbefore, took hold of her. When days and nights got all confused andtangled up together, and Aunt Izzie never seemed to go to bed. A timewhen Papa was constantly in her room. When other doctors came and stoodover her, and punched and felt her back, and talked to each other inlow whispers. It was all like a long, bad dream, from which shecouldn't wake up, though she tried ever so hard. Now and then she wouldrouse a little, and catch the sound of voices, or be aware that Cloveror Elsie stood at the door, crying softly; or that Aunt Izzie, increaking slippers, was going about the room on tiptoe. Then all thesethings would slip away again, and she would drop off into a dark place,where there was nothing but pain, and sleep, which made her forgetpain, and so seemed the best thing in the world.

  We will hurry over this time, for it is hard to think of our bright Katyin such a sad plight. By and by the pain grew less, and the sleepquieter. Then, as the pain became easier still, Katy woke up as itwere--began to take notice of what was going on about her; to putquestions.

  "How long have I been sick?" she asked one morning.

  "It is four weeks yesterday," said Papa.

  "Four weeks!" said Katy. "Why, I didn't know it was so long as that. WasI very sick, Papa?"

  "Very, dear. But you are a great deal better now."

  "How did I hurt me when I tumbled out of the swing?" asked Katy, who wasin an unusually wakeful mood.

  "I don't believe I could make you understand, dear."

  "But try, Papa!"

  "Well--did you know that you had a long bone down your back,called a spine?"

  "I thought that was a disease," said Katy. "Clover said that CousinHelen had the spine!"

  "No--the spine is a bone. It is made up of a row of smaller bones--orknobs--and in the middle of it is a sort of rope of nerves called thespinal cord. Nerves, you know, are the things we feel with. Well, thisspinal cord is rolled up for safe keeping in a soft wrapping, calledmembrane. When you fell out of the swing, you struck against one ofthese knobs, and bruised the membrane inside, and the nerve inflamed,and gave you a fever in the back. Do you see?"

  "A little," said Katy, not quite understanding, but too tired toquestion farther. After she had rested a while, she said: "Is the feverwell now, Papa? Can I get up again and go down stairs right away?"

  "Not right away, I'm afraid," said Dr. Carr, trying to speak cheerfully.

  Katy didn't ask any more questions then. Another week passed, andanother. The pain was almost gone. It only came back now and then for afew minutes. She could sleep now, and eat, and be raised in bed withoutfeeling giddy. But still the once active limbs hung heavy and lifeless,and she was not able to walk, or even stand alone.

  "My legs feel so queer," she said one morning, "they are just like thePrince's legs which were turned to black marble in the Arabian Nights.What do you suppose is the reason, Papa? Won't they feel natural soon?"

  "Not soon," answered Dr. Carr. Then he said to himself: "Poor child! shehad better know the truth." So he went on, aloud, "I am afraid, mydarling, that you must make up your mind to stay in bed a long time."

  "How long?" said Katy, looking frightened: "a month more?"

  "I can't tell exactly how long," answered her father. "The doctorsthink, as I do, that the injury to your spine is one which you willoutgrow by and by, because you are so young and strong. But it may takea good while to do it. It may be that you will have to lie here formonths, or it may be more. The only cure for such a hurt is time andpatience. It is hard, darling"--for Katy began to sob wildly--"but youhave Hope to help you along. Think of poor Cousin Helen, bearing allthese years without hope!"

  "Oh, Papa!" gasped Katy, between her sobs, "doesn't it seem dreadful,that just getting into the swing for a few minutes should do so muchharm? Such a little thing as that!"

  "Yes, such a little thing!" repeated Dr. Carr, sadly. "And it was only alittle thing, too, forgetting Aunt Izzie's order about the swing. Justfor the want of the small 'horseshoe nail' of Obedience, Katy."

  Years afterwards, Katy told somebody that the longest six weeks of herlife were those which followed this conversation with Papa. Now that sheknew there was no chance of getting well at once, the days draggeddreadfully. Each seemed duller and dismaller than the day before. Shelost heart about herself, and took no interest in anything. Aunt Izziebrought her books, but she didn't want to read, or to sew. Nothingamused her. Clover and Cecy would come and sit with her, but hearingthem tell about their plays, and the things they had been doing, madeher cry so miserably, that Aunt Izzie wouldn't let them come often. Theywere very sorry for Katy, but the room was so gloomy, and Katy so cross,that they didn't mind much not being allowed to see her. In those daysKaty made Aunt Izzie keep the blinds shut tight, and she lay in thedark, thinking how miserable she was, and how wretched all the rest ofher life was going to be. Everybody was very kind and patient with her,but she was too selfishly miserable to notice it. Aunt Izzie ran up anddown stairs, and was on her feet all day, trying to get something whichwould please her, but Katy hardly said "Thank you," and never saw howtired Aunt Izzie looked. So long as she was forced to stay in bed, Katycould not be grateful for anything that was done for her.

  But doleful as the days were, they were not so bad as the nights, when,after Aunt Izzie was asleep, Katy would lie wide awake, and have long,hopeless fits of crying. At these times she would think of all the plansshe had made for doing beautiful things when she was grown up. "And nowI shall never do any of them," she would say to herself, "only just liehere. Papa says I may get well by and by, but I sha'n't, I know Isha'n't. And even if I do, I shall have wasted all these years, and theothers will grow up and get ahead of me, and I sha'n't be a comfort tothem or to anybody else. Oh dear! oh dear! how dreadful it is!"

  The first thing which broke in upon this sad state of affairs, was aletter from Cousin Helen, which Papa brought one morning and handed toAunt Izzie.

  "Helen tells me she's going home this week," said Aunt Izzie, from thewindow, where she had gone to read the letter. "Well, I'm sorry, but Ithink she's quite right not to stop. It's just as she says: oneinvalid at a time is enough in a house. I'm sure I have my hands fullwith Katy."

  "Oh, Aunt Izzie!" cried Katy, "is Cousin Helen coming this way when shegoes home? Oh! do make her stop. If it's just for one day, do ask her! Iwant to see her so much! I can't tell you how much! Won't you? Please!Please, dear Papa!"

  She was almost crying with eagerness.

  "Why, yes, darling, if you wish it so much," said Dr. Carr. "It willcost Aunt Izzie some trouble, but she's so kind that I'm sure she'llmanage it if it is to give you so much pleasure. Can't you, Izzie?" Andhe looked eagerly at his sister.

  "Of course I will!" said Miss Izzie, heartily. Katy was so glad, that,for the first time in her life, she threw her arms of her own accordround Aunt Izzie's neck, and kissed her.

  "Thank you, dear Aunty!" she said.

  Aunt Izzie looked as pleased as could be. She had a warm hearthidden under her fidgety ways--only Katy had never been sick before,to find it out.

  For the next week Katy was feverish with expectation. At last CousinHelen came. This time Katy was not on the steps to welcome her, butafter a littl
e while Papa brought Cousin Helen in his arms, and sat herin a big chair beside the bed.

  "How dark it is!" she said, after they had kissed each other and talkedfor a minute or two; "I can't see your face at all. Would it hurt youreyes to have a little more light?"

  "Oh no!" answered Katy. "It don't hurt my eyes, only I hate to have thesun come in. It makes me feel worse, somehow."

  "Push the blind open a little bit then Clover;" and Clover did so.

  "Now I can see," said Cousin Helen.

  It was a forlorn-looking child enough which she saw lying before her.Katy's face had grown thin, and her eyes had red circles about them fromcontinual crying. Her hair had been brushed twice that morning by AuntIzzie, but Katy had run her fingers impatiently through it, till itstood out above her head like a frowsy bush. She wore a calicodressing-gown, which, though clean, was particularly ugly in pattern;and the room, for all its tidiness, had a dismal look, with the chairsset up against the wall, and a row of medicine-bottles on thechimney-piece.

  "Isn't it horrid?" sighed Katy, as Cousin Helen looked around."Everything's horrid. But I don't mind so much now that you've come. Oh,Cousin Helen, I've had such a dreadful, _dreadful_ time!"

  "I know," said her cousin, pityingly. "I've heard all about it, Katy,and I'm so very sorry for you! It is a hard trial, my poor darling."

  "But how do _you_ do it?" cried Katy.

  "How do you manage to be so sweet and beautiful and patient, when you'refeeling badly all the time, and can't do anything, or walk, orstand?"--her voice was lost in sobs.

  Cousin Helen didn't say anything for a little while. She just sat andstroked Katy's hand.

  "Katy," she said at last, "has Papa told you that he thinks you aregoing to get well by and by?"

  "Yes," replied Katy, "he did say so. But perhaps it won't be for a long,long time. And I wanted to do so many things. And now I can't doanything at all!"

  "What sort of things?"

  "Study, and help people, and become famous. And I wanted to teach thechildren. Mamma said I must take care of them, and I meant to. And now Ican't go to school or learn anything myself. And if I ever do get well,the children will be almost grown up, and they won't need me."

  "But why must you wait till you get well?" asked Cousin Helen, smiling.

  "Why, Cousin Helen, what can I do lying here in bed?"

  "A good deal. Shall I tell you, Katy, what it seems to me that I shouldsay to myself if I were in your place?"

  "Yes, please!" replied Katy wonderingly.

  "I should say this: 'Now, Katy Carr, you wanted to go to school andlearn to be wise and useful, and here's a chance for you. God is goingto let you go to _His_ school--where He teaches all sorts of beautifulthings to people. Perhaps He will only keep you for one term, or perhapsit may be for three or four; but whichever it is, you must make the verymost of the chance, because He gives it to you Himself.'"

  "But what is the school?" asked Katy. "I don't know what you mean."

  "It is called The School of Pain," replied Cousin Helen, with hersweetest smile. "And the place where the lessons are to be learned isthis room of yours. The rules of the school are pretty hard, but thegood scholars, who keep them best, find out after a while how right andkind they are. And the lessons aren't easy, either, but the more youstudy the more interesting they become."

  "What are the lessons?" asked Katy, getting interested, and beginning tofeel as if Cousin Helen were telling her a story.

  "Well, there's the lesson of Patience. That's one of the hardeststudies. You can't learn much of it at a time, but every bit you get byheart, makes the next bit easier. And there's the lesson ofCheerfulness. And the lesson of Making the Best of Things."

  "Sometimes there isn't anything to make the best of," remarked Katy,dolefully.

  "Yes there is, always! Everything in the world has two handles. Didn'tyou know that? One is a smooth handle. If you take hold of it, the thingcomes up lightly and easily, but if you seize the rough handle, it hurtsyour hand and the thing is hard to lift. Some people always manage toget hold of the wrong handle."

  "Is Aunt Izzie a 'thing?'" asked Katy. Cousin Helen was glad to hearher laugh.

  "Yes--Aunt Izzie is a _thing_--and she has a nice pleasant handle too,if you just try to find it. And the children are 'things,' also, in onesense. All their handles are different. You know human beings aren'tmade just alike, like red flower-pots. We have to feel and guess beforewe can make out just how other people go, and how we ought to take holdof them. It is very interesting, I advise you to try it. And while youare trying, you will learn all sorts of things which will help you tohelp others."

  "If I only could!" sighed Katy. "Are there any other studies in theSchool, Cousin Helen?"

  "Yes, there's the lesson of Hopefulness. That class has ever so manyteachers. The Sun is one. He sits outside the window all day waiting achance to slip in and get at his pupil. He's a first-rate teacher, too.I wouldn't shut him out, if I were you.

  "Every morning, the first thing when I woke up, I would say to myself:'I am going to get well, so Papa thinks. Perhaps it may be to-morrow.So, in case this _should_ be the last day of my sickness, let me spendit _beauti-_fully, and make my sick-room so pleasant that everybodywill like to remember it.'

  "Then, there is one more lesson, Katy--the lesson of Neatness.School-rooms must be kept in order, you know. A sick person ought to beas fresh and dainty as a rose."

  "But it is such a fuss," pleaded Katy. "I don't believe you've any ideawhat a bother it is to always be nice and in order. You never werecareless like me, Cousin Helen; you were born neat."

  "Oh, was I?" said her Cousin. "Well, Katy, we won't dispute that point,but I'll tell you a story, if you like, about a girl I once knew, who_wasn't_ born neat."

  "Oh, do!" cried Katy, enchanted. Cousin Helen had done her good,already. She looked brighter and less listless than for days.

  "This girl was quite young," continued Cousin Helen; "she was strong andactive, and liked to run, and climb, and ride, and do all sorts of jollythings. One day something happened--an accident--and they told her thatall the rest of her life she had got to lie on her back and suffer pain,and never walk any more, or do any of the things she enjoyed most."

  "Just like you and me!" whispered Katy, squeezing Cousin Helen's hand.

  "Something like me; but not so much like you, because, you know, we hope_you_ are going to get well one of these days. The girl didn't mind itso much when they first told her, for she was so ill that she felt sureshe should die. But when she got better, and began to think of the longlife which lay before her, that was worse than ever the pain had been.She was so wretched, that she didn't care what became of anything, orhow anything looked. She had no Aunt Izzie to look after things, so herroom soon got into a dreadful state. It was full of dust and confusion,and dirty spoons and phials of physic. She kept the blinds shut, and lether hair tangle every which way, and altogether was a dismal spectacle.

  "This girl had a dear old father," went on Cousin Helen, "who used tocome every day and sit beside her bed. One morning he said to her:

  "'My daughter, I'm afraid you've got to live in this room for a longtime. Now there's one thing I want you to do for my sake.'

  "'What's that?' she asked, surprised to hear there was anything leftwhich she could _do_ for anybody.

  "'I want you to turn out all these physic bottles, and make your roompleasant and pretty for _me_ to come and sit in. You see, I shall spenda good deal of my time here! Now I don't like dust and darkness. I liketo see flowers on the table, and sunshine in at the window. Will you dothis to please me?'

  "'Yes,' said the girl, but she gave a sigh, and I am afraid she felt asif it was going to be a dreadful trouble.

  "'Then, another thing,' continued her father, 'I want _you_ to lookpretty. Can't nightgowns and wrappers be trimmed and made becoming justas much as dresses? A sick woman who isn't neat is a disagreeableobject. Do, to please me, send for something pretty, and let me see youlo
oking nice again. I can't bear to have my Helen turn into aslattern.'"

  "Helen!" exclaimed Katy, with wide-open eyes, "was it _you_?"

  "Yes," said her cousin, smiling. "It was I though I didn't mean to letthe name slip out so soon. So, after my father was gone away, I sent fora looking-glass. Such a sight, Katy! My hair was a perfect mouse's nest,and I had frowned so much that my forehead was all criss-crossed withlines of pain, till it looked like an old woman's."

  Katy stared at Cousin Helen's smooth brow and glossy hair. "I can'tbelieve it," she said; "your hair never could be rough."

  "Yes it was--worse, a great deal, than yours looks now. But that peep inthe glass did me good. I began to think how selfishly I was behaving,and to desire to do better. And after that, when the pain came on, Iused to lie and keep my forehead smooth with my fingers, and try not tolet my face show what I was enduring. So by and by the wrinkles woreaway, and though I am a good deal older now, they have never come back.

  "It was a great deal of trouble at first to have to think and plan tokeep my room and myself looking nice. But after a while it grew to be ahabit, and then it became easy. And the pleasure it gave my dear fatherrepaid for all. He had been proud of his active, healthy girl, but Ithink she was never such a comfort to him as his sick one, lying therein her bed. My room was his favorite sitting-place, and he spent somuch time there, that now the room, and everything in it, makes methink of him."

  There were tears in Cousin Helen's eyes as she ceased speaking. But Katylooked bright and eager. It seemed somehow to be a help, as well as agreat surprise, that ever there should have been a time when CousinHelen was less perfect than she was now.

  "Do you really think I could do so too?" she asked.

  "Do what? Comb your hair?" Cousin Helen was smiling now.

  "Oh no! Be nice and sweet and patient, and a comfort to people. You knowwhat I mean."

  "I am sure you can, if you try."

  "But what would you do first?" asked Katy; who, now that her mind hadgrasped a new idea, was eager to begin.

  "Well--first I would open the blinds, and make the room look a littleless dismal. Are you taking all those medicines in the bottles now?"

  "No--only that big one with the blue label."

  "Then you might ask Aunt Izzy to take away the others. And I'd getClover to pick a bunch of fresh flowers every day for your table. By theway, I don't see the little white vase."

  "No--it got broken the very day after you went away; the day I fell outof the swing," said Katy, sorrowfully.

  "Never mind, pet, don't look so doleful. I know the tree those vasesgrow upon, and you shall have another. Then, after the room is madepleasant, I would have all my lesson-books fetched up, if I were you,and I would study a couple of hours every morning."

  "Oh!" cried Katy, making a wry face at the idea.

  Cousin Helen smiled. "I know," said she, "it sounds like dull work,learning geography and doing sums up here all by yourself. But I thinkif you make the effort you'll be glad by and by. You won't lose so muchground, you see--won't slip back quite so far in your education. Andthen, studying will be like working at a garden, where things don't groweasily. Every flower you raise will be a sort of triumph, and you willvalue it twice as much as a common flower which has cost no trouble."

  "Well," said Katy, rather forlornly, "I'll try. But it won't be a bitnice studying without anybody to study with me. Is there anything else,Cousin Helen?"

  Just then the door creaked, and Elsie timidly put her head into theroom.

  "Oh, Elsie, run away!" cried Katy. "Cousin Helen and I are talking.Don't come just now."

  Katy didn't speak unkindly, but Elsie's face fell, and she lookeddisappointed. She said nothing, however, but shut the door andstole away.

  Cousin Helen watched this little scene without speaking. For a fewminutes after Elsie was gone she seemed to be thinking.

  "Katy," she said at last, "you were saying just now, that one of thethings you were sorry about was that while you were ill you could be ofno use to the children. Do you know, I don't think you have that reasonfor being sorry."

  "Why not?" said Katy, astonished.

  "Because you can be of use. It seems to me that you have more of achance with the children now, than you ever could have had when you werewell, and flying about as you used. You might do almost anything youliked with them."

  "I can't think what you mean," said Katy, sadly. "Why, Cousin Helen,half the time I don't even know where they are, or what they are doing.And I can't get up and go after them, you know."

  "But you can make your room such a delightful place, that they willwant to come to you! Don't you see, a sick person has one splendidchance--she is always on hand. Everybody who wants her knows justwhere to go. If people love her, she gets naturally to be the heart ofthe house.

  "Once make the little ones feel that your room is the place of allothers to come to when they are tired, or happy, or grieved, or sorryabout anything, and that the Katy who lives there is sure to give them aloving reception--and the battle is won. For you know we never dopeople good by lecturing; only by living their lives with them, andhelping a little here, and a little there, to make them better. And whenone's own life is laid aside for a while, as yours is now, that is thevery time to take up other people's lives, as we can't do when we arescurrying and bustling over our own affairs. But I didn't mean to preacha sermon. I'm afraid you're tired."

  "No, I'm not a bit," said Katy, holding Cousin Helen's hand tight inhers; "you can't think how much better I feel. Oh, Cousin Helen, Iwill try!"

  "It won't be easy," replied her cousin. "There will be days when yourhead aches, and you feel cross and fretted, and don't want to think ofany one but yourself. And there'll be other days when Clover and therest will come in, as Elsie did just now, and you will be doingsomething else, and will feel as if their coming was a bother. But youmust recollect that every time you forget, and are impatient orselfish, you chill them and drive them farther away. They are lovinglittle things, and are so sorry for you now, that nothing you do makesthem angry. But by and by they will get used to having you sick, and ifyou haven't won them as friends, they will grow away from you as theyget older."

  Just then Dr. Carr came in.

  "Oh, Papa! you haven't come to take Cousin Helen, have you?" cried Katy.

  "Indeed I have," said her father. "I think the big invalid and thelittle invalid have talked quite long enough. Cousin Helen looks tired."

  For a minute, Katy felt just like crying. But she choked back the tears."My first lesson in Patience," she said to herself, and managed to givea faint, watery smile as Papa looked at her.

  "That's right, dear," whispered Cousin Helen, as she bent forward tokiss her. "And one last word, Katy. In this school, to which you and Ibelong, there is one great comfort, and that is that the Teacher isalways at hand. He never goes away. If things puzzle us, there He is,close by, ready to explain and make all easy. Try to think of this,darling, and don't be afraid to ask Him for help if the lesson seemstoo hard."

  Katy had a strange dream that night. She thought she was trying to studya lesson out of a book which wouldn't come quite open. She could justsee a little bit of what was inside, but it was in a language which shedid not understand. She tried in vain; not a word could she read; andyet, for all that, it looked so interesting that she longed to go on.

  "Oh, if somebody would only help me!" she cried impatiently.

  Suddenly a hand came over her shoulder and took hold of the book. Itopened at once, and showed the whole page. And then the forefinger ofthe hand began to point to line after line, and as it moved the wordsbecame plain, and Katy could read them easily. She looked up. There,stooping over her, was a great beautiful Face. The eyes met hers. Thelips smiled.

  "Why didn't you ask me before, Little Scholar?" said a voice.

  "Why, it is You, just as Cousin Helen told me!" cried Katy.

  She must have spoken in her sleep, for Aunt Izzie half woke up, andsaid:
>
  "What is it? Do you want anything?"

  The dream broke, and Katy roused, to find herself in bed, with the firstsunbeams struggling in at the window, and Aunt Izzie raised on herelbow, looking at her with a sort of sleepy wonder.