What Katy Did

by Susan Coolidge

  CHAPTER XII

  TWO YEARS AFTERWARD

  It was a pleasant morning in early June. A warm wind was rustling thetrees, which were covered thickly with half-opened leaves, and lookedlike fountains of green spray thrown high into the air. Dr. Carr's frontdoor stood wide open. Through the parlor window came the sound of pianopractice, and on the steps, under the budding roses, sat a small figure,busily sewing.

  This was Clover, little Clover still, though more than two years hadpassed since we saw her last, and she was now over fourteen. Clover wasnever intended to be tall. Her eyes were as blue and sweet as ever, andher apple-blossom cheeks as pink. But the brown pig-tails were pinned upinto a round knot, and the childish face had gained almost a womanlylook. Old Mary declared that Miss Clover was getting quiteyoung-ladyfied, and "Miss Clover" was quite aware of the fact, andmightily pleased with it. It delighted her to turn up her hair; and shewas very particular about having her dresses made to come below the topsof her boots. She had also left off ruffles, and wore narrow collarsinstead, and little cuffs with sleeve-buttons to fasten them. Thesesleeve-buttons, which were a present from Cousin Helen, Clover likedbest of all her things. Papa said that he was sure she took them to bedwith her, but of course that was only a joke, though she certainly wasnever seen without them in the daytime. She glanced frequently at thesebeloved buttons as she sat sewing, and every now and then laid down herwork to twist them into a better position, or give them an affectionatepat with her forefinger.

  Pretty soon the side-gate swung open, and Philly came round the cornerof the house. He had grown into a big boy. All his pretty baby curlswere cut off, and his frocks had given place to jacket and trousers. Inhis hand he held something. What, Clover could not see.

  "What's that?" she said, as he reached the steps.

  "I'm going up stairs to ask Katy if these are ripe," replied Phil,exhibiting some currants faintly streaked with red.

  "Why, of course they're not ripe!" said Clover, putting one into hermouth. "Can't you tell by the taste? They're as green as can be."

  "I don't care, if Katy says they're ripe I shall eat 'em," answeredPhil, defiantly, marching into the house.

  "What did Philly want?" asked Elsie, opening the parlor door as Philwent up stairs.

  "Only to know if the currants are ripe enough to eat."

  "How particular he always is about asking now!" said Elsie; "he's afraidof another dose of salts."

  "I should think he would be," replied Clover, laughing. "Johnnie saysshe never was so scared in her life as when Papa called them, and theylooked up, and saw him standing there with the bottle in one hand and aspoon in the other!"

  "Yes," went on Elsie, "and you know Dorry held his in his mouth for everso long, and then went round the corner of the house and spat it out!Papa said he had a good mind to make him take another spoonful, but heremembered that after all Dorry had the bad taste a great deal longerthan the others, so he didn't. I think it was an _awful_ punishment,don't you?"

  "Yes, but it was a good one, for none of them have ever touched thegreen gooseberries since. Have you got through practising? It doesn'tseem like an hour yet."

  "Oh, it isn't--it's only twenty-five minutes. But Katy told me not tosit more than half an hour at a time without getting up and runninground to rest. I'm going to walk twice down to the gate, and twice back.I promised her I would." And Elsie set off, clapping her hands brisklybefore and behind her as she walked.

  "Why--what is Bridget doing in Papa's room?" she asked, as she came backthe second time. "She's flapping things out of the window. Are the girlsup there? I thought they were cleaning the dining-room."

  "They're doing both. Katy said it was such a good chance, having Papaaway, that she would have both the carpets taken up at once. There isn'tgoing to be any dinner today, only just bread and butter, and milk, andcold ham, up in Katy's room, because Debby is helping too, so as to getthrough and save Papa all the fuss. And see," exhibiting her sewing,"Katy's making a new cover for Papa's pincushion, and I'm hemming theruffle to go round it."

  "How nicely you hem!" said Elsie. "I wish I had something for Papa'sroom too. There's my washstand mats--but the one for the soap-dish isn'tfinished. Do you suppose, if Katy would excuse me from the rest of mypractising, I could get it done? I've a great mind to go and ask her."

  "There's her bell!" said Clover, as a little tinkle sounded up stairs;"I'll ask her, if you like."

  "No, let me go. I'll see what she wants." But Clover was alreadyhalf-way across the hall, and the two girls ran up side by side. Therewas often a little strife between them as to which should answer Katy'sbell. Both liked to wait on her so much.

  Katy came to meet them as they entered. Not on her feet: that, alas! wasstill only a far-off possibility; but in a chair with large wheels, withwhich she was rolling herself across the room. This chair was a greatcomfort to her. Sitting in it, she could get to her closet and herbureau-drawers, and help herself to what she wanted without troublinganybody. It was only lately that she had been able to use it. Dr. Carrconsidered her doing so as a hopeful sign, but he had never told Katythis. She had grown accustomed to her invalid life at last, and wascheerful in it, and he thought it unwise to make her restless, byexciting hopes which might after all end in fresh disappointment.

  She met the girls with a bright smile as they came in, and said:

  "Oh, Clovy, it was you I rang for! I am troubled for fear Bridget willmeddle with the things on Papa's table. You know he likes them to beleft just so. Will you please go and remind her that she is not totouch them at all? After the carpet is put down, I want you to dust thetable, so as to be sure that everything is put back in the same place.Will you?"

  "Of course I will!" said Clover, who was a born housewife, and dearlyloved to act as Katy's prime minister.

  "Sha'n't I fetch you the pincushion too, while I'm there?"

  "Oh yes, please do! I want to measure."

  "Katy," said Elsie, "those mats of mine are most done, and I would liketo finish them and put them on Papa's washstand before he comes back.Mayn't I stop practising now, and bring my crochet up here instead?"

  "Will there be plenty of time to learn the new exercise before MissPhillips comes, if you do?"

  "I think so, plenty. She doesn't come till Friday, you know."

  "Well, then it seems to me that you might just as well as not. AndElsie, dear, run into papa's room first, and bring me the drawer out ofhis table. I want to put that in order myself."

  Elsie went cheerfully. She laid the drawer across Katy's lap, and Katybegan to dust and arrange the contents. Pretty soon Clover joined them.

  "Here's the cushion," she said. "Now we'll have a nice quiet time all byourselves, won't we? I like this sort of day, when nobody comes in tointerrupt us."

  Somebody tapped at the door, as she spoke. Katy called out, "Come!" Andin marched a tall, broad-shouldered lad, with a solemn, sensible face,and a little clock carried carefully in both his hands. This was Dorry.He has grown and improved very much since we saw him last, and isturning out clever in several ways. Among the rest, he has developed astrong turn for mechanics.

  "Here's your clock, Katy," he said. "I've got it fixed so that itstrikes all right. Only you must be careful not to hit the striker whenyou start the pendulum."

  "Have you, really?" said Katy. "Why, Dorry, you're a genius! I'm ever somuch obliged."

  "It's four minutes to eleven now," went on Dorry. "So it'll strikepretty soon. I guess I'd better stay and hear it, so as to be sure thatit is right. That is," he added politely, "unless you're busy, and wouldrather not."

  "I'm never too busy to want you, old fellow," said Katy, stroking hisarm. "Here, this drawer is arranged now. Don't you want to carry itinto Papa's room and put it back into the table? Your hands arestronger than Elsie's."

  Dorry looked gratified. When he came back the clock was just beginningto strike.

  "There!" he exclaimed; "that's splendid, isn't it?"

  But alas!
the clock did not stop at eleven. It went on--Twelve,Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen!

  "Dear me!" said Clover, "what does all this mean? It must be day afterto-morrow, at least."

  Dorry stared with open mouth at the clock, which was still strikingas though it would split its sides. Elsie, screaming with laughter,kept count.

  "Thirty, Thirty-one--Oh, Dorry! Thirty-two! Thirty-three! Thirty-four!"

  "You've bewitched it, Dorry!" said Katy, as much entertained as therest.

  Then they all began counting. Dorry seized the clock--shook it, slappedit, turned it upside-down. But still the sharp, vibrating soundscontinued, as if the clock, having got its own way for once, meant to goon till it was tired out. At last, at the one-hundred-and-thirtiethstroke, it suddenly ceased; and Dorry, with a red, amazed countenance,faced the laughing company.

  "It's very queer," he said, "but I'm sure it's not because of anything Idid. I can fix it, though, if you'll let me try again. May I, Katy? I'llpromise not to hurt it."

  For a moment Katy hesitated. Clover pulled her sleeve, andwhispered, "Don't!" Then seeing the mortification on Dorry's face,she made up her mind.

  "Yes! take it, Dorry. I'm sure you'll be careful. But if I were you, I'dcarry it down to Wetherell's first of all, and talk it over with them.Together you could hit on just the right thing. Don't you think so?"

  "Perhaps," said Dorry; "yes, I think I will." Then he departed with theclock under his arm, while Clover called after him teasingly, "Lunch at132 o'clock; don't forget!"

  "No, I won't!" said Dorry. Two years before he would not have borne tobe laughed at so good-naturedly.

  "How could you let him take your clock again?" said Clover, as soon asthe door was shut. "He'll spoil it. And you think so much of it."

  "I thought he would feel mortified if I didn't let him try," repliedKaty, quietly, "I don't believe he'll hurt it. Wetherell's man likesDorry, and he'll show him what to do."

  "You were real good to do it," responded Clover; "but if it had beenmine I don't think I could."

  Just then the door flew open, and Johnnie rushed in, two years taller,but otherwise looking exactly as she used to do.

  "Oh, Katy!" she gasped, "won't you please tell Philly not to wash thechickens in the rain-water tub? He's put in every one of Speckle's, andis just beginning on Dame Durden's. I'm afraid one little yellow one isdead already--"

  "Why, he mustn't--of course he mustn't!" said Katy; "what made him thinkof such a thing?"

  "He says they're dirty, because they've just come out of egg-shells! Andhe insists that the yellow on them is yolk-of-egg. I told him it wasn't,but he wouldn't listen to me." And Johnnie wrung her hands.

  "Clover!" cried Katy, "won't you run down and ask Philly to come up tome? Speak pleasantly, you know!"

  "I spoke pleasantly--real pleasantly, but it wasn't any use," saidJohnnie, on whom the wrongs of the chicks had evidently made a deepimpression.

  "What a mischief Phil is getting to be!" said Elsie. "Papa says his nameought to be Pickle."

  "Pickles turn out very nice sometimes, you know," replied Katy,laughing.

  Pretty soon Philly came up, escorted by Clover. He looked a littledefiant, but Katy understood how to manage him. She lifted him into herlap, which, big boy as he was, he liked extremely; and talked to him soaffectionately about the poor little shivering chicks, that his heartwas quite melted.

  "I didn't mean to hurt 'em, really and truly," he said, "but they wereall dirty and yellow--with egg, you know, and I thought you'd like me toclean 'em up."

  "But that wasn't egg, Philly--it was dear little clean feathers, like acanary-bird's wings."

  "Was it?"

  "Yes. And now the chickies are as cold and forlorn as you would feel ifyou tumbled into a pond and nobody gave you any dry clothes. Don't youthink you ought to go and warm them?"

  "How?"

  "Well--in your hands, very gently. And then I would let them run roundin the sun."

  "I will!" said Philly, getting down from her lap. "Only kiss me first,because I didn't mean to, you know!"--Philly was very fond of Katy. MissPetingill said it was wonderful to see how that child let himself bemanaged. But I think the secret was that Katy didn't "manage," but triedto be always kind and loving, and considerate of Phil's feelings.

  Before the echo of Phil's boots had fairly died away on the stairs,old Mary put her head into the door. There was a distressed expressionon her face.

  "Miss Katy," she said, "I wish _you'd_ speak to Alexander about puttingthe woodshed in order. I don't think you know how bad it looks."

  "I don't suppose I do," said Katy, smiling, and then sighing. She hadnever seen the wood-shed since the day of her fall from the swing."Never mind, Mary, I'll talk to Alexander about it, and he shall make itall nice."

  Mary trotted down stairs satisfied. But in the course of a few minutesshe was up again.

  "There's a man come with a box of soap, Miss Katy, and here's the bill.He says it's resated."

  It took Katy a little time to find her purse, and then she wantedher pencil and account book, and Elsie had to move from her seat atthe table.

  "Oh dear!" she said, "I wish people wouldn't keep coming andinterrupting us. Who'll be the next, I wonder?"

  She was not left to wonder long. Almost as she spoke, there was anotherknock at the door.

  "Come in!" said Katy, rather wearily. The door opened.

  "Shall I?" said a voice. There was a rustle of skirts, a clatter ofboot-heels, and Imogen Clark swept into the room. Katy could not thinkwho it was, at first. She had not seen Imogen for almost two years.

  "I found the front door open," explained Imogen, in her high-pitchedvoice, "and as nobody seemed to hear when I rang the bell, I ventured tocome right up stairs. I hope I'm not interrupting anything private?"

  "Not at all," said Katy, politely. "Elsie, dear, move up that low chair,please. Do sit down, Imogen! I'm sorry nobody answered your ring, butthe servants are cleaning house to-day, and I suppose they didn't hear."

  So Imogen sat down and began to rattle on in her usual manner, whileElsie, from behind Katy's chair, took a wide-awake survey of her dress.It was of cheap material, but very gorgeously made and trimmed, withflounces and puffs, and Imogen wore a jet necklace and long blackear-rings, which jingled and clicked when she waved her head about. Shestill had the little round curls stuck on to her cheeks, and Elsiewondered anew what kept them in their places.

  By and by the object of Imogen's visit came out. She had called to saygood-by. The Clark family were all going back to Jacksonville to live.

  "Did you ever see the Brigand again?" asked Clover, who had neverforgotten that eventful tale told in the parlor.

  "Yes," replied Imogen, "several times. And I get letters from him quiteoften. He writes _beau_tiful letters. I wish I had one with me, so thatI could read you a little bit. You would enjoy it, I know. Let mesee--perhaps I have." And she put her hand into her pocket. Sure enoughthere _was_ a letter. Clover couldn't help suspecting that Imogen knewit all the time.

  The Brigand seemed to write a bold, black hand, and his note-paper andenvelope was just like anybody else's. But perhaps his band hadsurprised a pedlar with a box of stationery.

  "Let me see," said Imogen, running her eye down the page. "'AdoredImogen'--that wouldn't interest you--hm, hm, hm--ah, here's something!'I took dinner at the Rock House on Christmas. It was lonesome withoutyou. I had roast turkey, roast goose, roast beef, mince pie, plumpudding, and nuts and raisins. A pretty good dinner, was it not? Butnothing tastes first-rate when friends are away.'"

  Katy and Clover stared, as well they might. Such language from aBrigand!

  "John Billings has bought a new horse," continued Imogen; "hm, hm,hm--him. I don't think there is anything else you'd care about. Oh, yes!just here, at the end, is some poetry:

  "'Come, little dove, with azure wing, And brood upon my breast,'

  "That's sweet, ain't it?"

  "Hasn't he reformed?" said Clover;
"he writes as if he had."

  "Reformed!" cried Imogen, with a toss of the jingling ear-rings. "He wasalways just as good as he could be!"

  There was nothing to be said in reply to this. Katy felt her lipstwitch, and for fear she should be rude, and laugh out, she began totalk as fast as she could about something else. All the time she foundherself taking measure of Imogen, and thinking--"Did I ever really likeher? How queer! Oh, what a wise man Papa is!"

  Imogen stayed half an hour. Then she took her leave.

  "She never asked how you were!" cried Elsie, indignantly; "I noticed,and she didn't--not once."

  "Oh well--I suppose she forgot. We were talking about her, not aboutme," replied Katy.

  The little group settled down again to their work. This time half anhour went by without any more interruptions. Then the door bell rang,and Bridget, with a disturbed face, came up stairs.

  "Miss Katy," she said, "it's old Mrs. Worrett, and I reckon's she'scome to spend the day, for she's brought her bag. What ever shall Itell her?"

  Katy looked dismayed. "Oh dear!" she said, "how unlucky. What can wedo?"

  Mrs. Worrett was an old friend of Aunt Izzie's, who lived in thecountry, about six miles from Burnet, and was in the habit of coming toDr. Carr's for lunch, on days when shopping or other business broughther into town. This did not occur often; and, as it happened, Katy hadnever had to entertain her before.

  "Tell her ye're busy, and can't see her," suggested Bridget; "there's nodinner nor nothing, you know."

  The Katy of two years ago would probably have jumped at this idea. Butthe Katy of to-day was more considerate.

  "N-o," she said; "I don't like to do that. We must just make the best ofit, Bridget. Run down, Clover, dear, that's a good girl! and tell Mrs.Worrett that the dining-room is all in confusion, but that we're goingto have lunch here, and, after she's rested, I should be glad to haveher come up. And, oh, Clovy! give her a fan the first thing. She'll be_so_ hot. Bridget, you can bring up the luncheon just the same, onlytake out some canned peaches, by way of a dessert, and make Mrs. Worretta cup of tea. She drinks tea always, I believe.

  "I can't bear to send the poor old lady away when she has come so far,"she explained to Elsie, after the others were gone. "Pull therocking-chair a little this way, Elsie. And oh! push all those littlechairs back against the wall. Mrs. Worrett broke down in one the lasttime she was here--don't you recollect?"

  It took some time to cool Mrs. Worrett off, so nearly twenty minutespassed before a heavy, creaking step on the stairs announced that theguest was on her way up. Elsie began to giggle. Mrs. Worrett always madeher giggle. Katy had just time to give her a warning glance before thedoor opened.

  Mrs. Worrett was the most enormously fat person ever seen. Nobody daredto guess how much she weighed, but she looked as if it might be athousand pounds. Her face was extremely red. In the coldest weather sheappeared hot, and on a mild day she seemed absolutely ready to melt. Herbonnet-strings were flying loose as she came in, and she fanned herselfall the way across the room, which shook as she walked.

  "Well, my dear," she said, as she plumped herself into therocking-chair, "and how do you do?"

  "Very well, thank you," replied Katy, thinking that she never saw Mrs.Worrett look half so fat before, and wondering how she _was_ toentertain her.

  "And how's your Pa?" inquired Mrs. Worrett. Katy answered politely, andthen asked after Mrs. Worrett's own health.

  "Well, I'm so's to be round," was the reply, which had the effect ofsending Elsie off into a fit of convulsive laughter behind Katy's chair.

  "I had business at the bank," continued the visitor, "and I thoughtwhile I was about it I'd step up to Miss Petingill's and see if Icouldn't get her to come and let out my black silk. It was made quite apiece back, and I seem to have fleshed up since then, for I can't makethe hooks and eyes meet at all. But when I got there, she was out, soI'd my walk for nothing. Do you know where she's sewing now?"

  "No," said Katy, feeling her chair shake, and keeping her owncountenance with difficulty, "she was here for three days last week tomake Johnnie a school-dress. But I haven't heard anything about hersince. Elsie, don't you want to run down stairs and ask Bridget tobring a--a--a glass of iced water for Mrs. Worrett? She looks warmafter her walk."

  Elsie, dreadfully ashamed, made a bolt from the room, and hid herself inthe hall closet to have her laugh out. She came back after a while, witha perfectly straight face. Luncheon was brought up. Mrs. Worrett made agood meal, and seemed to enjoy everything. She was so comfortable thatshe never stirred till four o'clock! Oh, how long that afternoon didseem to the poor girls, sitting there and trying to think of somethingto say to their vast visitor!

  At last Mrs. Worrett got out of her chair, and prepared to depart.

  "Well," she said, tying her bonnet-strings, "I've had a good rest, andfeel all the better for it. Ain't some of you young folks coming out tosee me one of these days? I'd like to have you, first-rate, if you will.'Tain't every girl would know how to take care of a fat old woman, andmake her feel to home, as you have me, Katy. I wish your aunt could seeyou all as you are now. She'd be right pleased; I know that."

  Somehow, this sentence rang pleasantly in Katy's ears.

  "Ah! don't laugh at her," she said later in the evening, when thechildren, after their tea in the clean, fresh-smelling dining-room, werecome up to sit with her, and Cecy, in her pretty pink lawn and whiteshawl, had dropped in to spend an hour or two; "she's a real kind oldwoman, and I don't like to have you. It isn't her fault that she's fat.And Aunt Izzie was fond of her, you know. It is doing something for herwhen we can show a little attention to one of her friends. I was sorrywhen she came, but now it's over, I'm glad."

  "It feels so nice when it stops aching," quoted Elsie, mischievously,while Cecy whispered to Clover.

  "Isn't Katy sweet?"

  "Isn't she!" replied Clover. "I wish I was half so good. Sometimes Ithink I shall really be sorry if she ever gets well. She's such a dearold darling to us all, sitting there in her chair, that it wouldn't seemso nice to have her anywhere else. But then, I know it's horrid in me.And I don't believe she'd be different, or grow slam-bang and horrid,like some of the girls, even if she were well."

  "Of course she wouldn't!" replied Cecy.