 CHAPTER 10 SAINT NICOLAS AND SAINT VALENTINE What are the children all doing today?" said Katie, laying down Norway and the Norwegians, which she was reading for the fourth time. I haven't seen them since breakfast. Aunt Izzy, who was sewing on the other side of the room, looked up from her work. I don't know, she said. They're over at Sesseys or somewhere. They'll be back before long, I guess. Her voice sounded a little odd and mysterious, but Katie didn't notice it. I thought of such a nice plan yesterday, she went on. That was that all of them should hang their stockings up here tomorrow night instead of in the nursery. Then I could see them open their presents, you know. May and they, Aunt Izzy, it would be real fun. I don't believe there will be any objection, replied her aunt. She looked as if she were trying not to laugh. Katie wondered what was the matter with her. It was more than two months now since Cousin Helen went away, and winter had fairly calm. Snow was falling outdoors. Katie could see the thick flakes go whirling past the window, but the sight did not chill her. It only made the room look warmer and more cozy. It was a pleasant room now. There was a bright fire in the grate. Everything was neat and orderly. The air was sweet with mignonette, from a little glass of flowers which stood on the table, and the Katie who lay in bed was a very different looking Katie from the forlorn girl of the last chapter. Cousin Helen's visit, though it lasted only one day, did great good. Not that Katie grew perfect all at once. None of us do that, even in books. But it is everything to be started in the right path. Katie's feet were on it now, and though she often stumbled and slipped, and often sat down discouraged, she kept on pretty steadily in spite of bad days, which made her say to herself that she was not getting forward at all. These bad days, when everything seemed hard, and she herself was cross and fretful, and drove the children out of her room, cost Katie many bitter tears. But after them she would pick herself up and try again and harder. And I think that in spite of drawbacks, the little scholar on the whole was learning her lesson pretty well. Cousin Helen was a great comfort all this time. She never forgot Katie. Nearly every week some little thing came from her. Sometimes it was a pencil note written from her sofa. Sometimes it was an interesting book, or a new magazine, or some pretty little thing for the room. The crimson wrapper which Katie wore was one of their presents. So were the bright cromos of autumn leaves which hung on the wall, the little stand for the books, all sorts of things. Katie loved to look about her as she lay. All the room seemed full of cousin Helen and her kindness. I wish I had something pretty to put into everybody's stocking, she went on wistfully. But I've only got the mufflets for Papa and these reins for Phil. And she took them from under her pillow as she spoke, gay-worsted affairs with bells sewn on here and there. She had knit them herself a very little bit at a time. There's my pink sash, she said suddenly. I might give that to Clover. I only wore it once, you know, and I don't think I got any spots on it. Would you please fetch it and let me see, Aunt Izzy? It's in the top drawer. Aunt Izzy brought the sash. It proved to be quite fresh, and they both decided that it would do nicely for Clover. You know I shan't want sashes for ever so long, said Katie in rather sad tone, and this is a beauty. When she spoke next, her voice was bright again. I wish I had something real nice for Elsie. Do you know Aunt Izzy? I think Elsie is the dearest little girl that ever was. I'm glad you found it out, said Aunt Izzy, who had always been especially fond of Elsie. What she wants most of all is a writing desk, continued Katie, and Johnny wants a sled, but oh dear, these are such big things, and I've only got two dollars and a quarter. Aunt Izzy marched out of the room without saying anything. When she came back she had something folded up in her hand. I didn't know what to give you for Christmas, Katie, she said, because Helen sends you such a lot of things that there don't seem to be anything you haven't already. So I thought I'd give you this and let you choose for yourself. But if you've set your heart on getting presents for the children, perhaps you'd rather have it now. So saying Aunt Izzy laid on the bed at crisp new five dollar bill. How good you are, cried Katie, flushed with pleasure, and indeed Aunt Izzy did seem to have grown wonderfully good of late. Perhaps Katie had got hold of her smooth handle. Being now in possession of seven dollars and a quarter, Katie could afford to be gorgeously generous. She gave Aunt Izzy an exact description of the desk she wanted. It's no matter about it's being very big, said Katie, but it must have a blue velvet lining and an ink stand with a silver top. And please buy some little sheets of paper and envelopes and a pen handle, the prettiest you can find. Oh, and there must be a lock and a key. Don't forget that, Aunt Izzy. No, I won't. What else? I'd like the sled to be green, went on Katie, and to have a nice name. Skyscraper would be nice if there was one. Johnny saw a sled once called Skyscraper and she said it was splendid. And if there's money enough left, Auntie, won't you buy me a real nice book for Dory and another for Sessy and a silver thimble for Mary? Her old one is full of holes. Oh, and some candy. And something for Debbie and Bridget? Some little thing, you know. I think that's all. Was ever seven dollars and a quarter expected to do so much? Aunt Izzy must have been a witch indeed to make it hold out. But she did, and next day all the precious bundles came home. How Katie enjoyed untying the strings. Everything was exactly right. There wasn't any Skyscraper, said Aunt Izzy, so I got snow skimmer instead. It's beautiful and I like it just as well, said Katie contentedly. Oh, hide them, hide them! She cried with sudden terror. Somebody's coming. But the somebody was only Papa, who put his head into the room as Aunt Izzy, laden with bundles, scuttled across the hall. Katie was glad to catch him alone. She had a little private secret to talk over with him. It was about Aunt Izzy, for whom she has yet had no present. I thought perhaps you'd get me a book like that one of Aunt Helen's, which Aunt Izzy liked so much, she said. I don't recollect the name exactly. It was something about a shadow. But I've spent all my money. Never mind about that, said Dr. Carr. We'll make that right. The shadow of the cross. Was that it? I'll buy it this afternoon. Oh, thank you, Papa. And please get a brown cover if you can, because Cousin Helen's was brown. And you won't let Aunt Izzy know, will you? Be careful, Papa. I'll swallow the book first. Brown cover and all, said Papa, making a funny face. He was pleased to see Katie so interested about anything again. These delightful secrets took up so much of her thoughts that Katie scarcely found time to wonder at the absence of the children, who generally haunted her room, but for three days back had hardly been seen. However, after supper, they all came up in a body, looking very merry, and as if they had been having a good time somewhere. You don't know what we've been doing, big-ass Philly. Hush, Phil, said Clover, in a warning voice. Then she divided the stockings, which she held in her hand, and everybody proceeded to hang them up. Dory hung his on one side of the fireplace, and John hers exactly opposite. Clover and Phil suspended their side-by-side on two handles of the bureau. I'm going to put mine here close to Katie so that she can see it in the first thing in the morning, said Elsie, pinning hers to the bed post. Then they all sat down round the fire to write their wishes on bits of paper and see whether they would burn or fly at the chimney. If they did the latter, it was a sign that Santa Claus had them safe and would bring the things wished for. John wished for a sled and a doll's tea set, and the continuation of the Swiss family Robinson. Dory's list ran thus. A plum cake, a new Bible, Harry and Lucy, a kaleidoscope, everything else Santa Claus likes. When they had written these lists, they threw them into the fire. The fire gave a flicker just then, and the papers vanished. Nobody saw exactly how. John thought they flew up the chimney, but Dory said they didn't. Phil dropped his piece in very solemnly. It flamed for a minute and sank into ashes. There you won't get it whatever it was, said Dory. What did you write, Phil? Nothing, said Phil, only just Philly Carr. The children shouted. I wrote a writing desk on mine, remarked Elsie sorrowfully, but it all burned up. Katie chuckled when she heard this. And now Clover produced her list. She read aloud. Strive and thrive, a pair of kid gloves, a muff, a good temper. Then she dropped it into the fire. Behold, it flew straight up the chimney. How queer, said Katie. None of the rest of them did that. The truth was that Clover, who was a canny little mortal, had slipped across the room and opened the door just before putting her wishes in. This, of course, made a draft and sent the paper right upward. Pretty soon Aunt Izzy came in and swept them all off to bed. I know how it will be in the morning, she said. You'll be all up and racing about as soon as it is light, so you must get your sleep now, if ever. After they had gone, Katie recollected that nobody had offered to hang a stocking up for her. She felt a little hurt when she thought of it. But I suppose they forgot, she said to herself. A little later, Papa and Aunt Izzy came in and they filled the stockings. It was great fun. Each was brought to Katie as she lay in bed, that she might arrange it as she liked. The toes were stuffed with candy and oranges. Then came the parcels, all shapes and sizes, tied in white paper with ribbons and labeled. What's that? Asked Dr. Carr as Aunt Izzy rammed a long, narrow package into Clover's stocking. A nail brush, answered Aunt Izzy. Clover needed a new one. How Papa and Katie laughed. I don't believe Santa Claus ever had such a thing before, said Dr. Carr. He's a very dirty old gentleman, then, observed Aunt Izzy grimly. The desk and sled were too big to go into any stocking, so they were wrapped in paper and hung beneath the other things. It was ten o'clock before all was done, and Papa and Aunt Izzy went away. Katie lay a long time, watching the queer shapes of the stocking legs as they dangled in the firelight. Then she fell asleep. It seemed only a minute before something touched her and woke her up. Behold it was daytime, and there was Philly in his nightgown climbing up on the bed to kiss her. The rest of the children, half dressed, were dancing about with their stockings in their hands. Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, they cried. Oh, Katie, such beautiful, beautiful things. Oh, shrieked Elsie, who at that moment spied her desk. Santa Claus did bring it after all. Why, it's got from Katie written on it. Oh, Katie, it's so sweet and I'm so happy. And Elsie hugged Katie and sobbed for pleasure. But what was that strange thing beside the bed? Katie stared and rubbed her eyes. It certainly had not been there when she went to sleep. How had it come? It was a little evergreen tree planted in a red flower pot. The pot had stripes of gilt paper stuck on it and gilt stars and crosses which made it look very gay. The boughs of the tree were hung with oranges and nuts and shiny red apples and popcorn balls and strings of bright berries. There were also a number of little packages tied with blue and crimson ribbon, and altogether the tree looked so pretty that Katie gave a cry of delighted surprise. It's a Christmas tree for you because you're sick, you know, said the children all trying to hug her at once. We made it ourselves, said Dory, hopping about on one foot. I pasted the black stars on the pot. And I popped the corn, cried Philly. Do you like it? asked Elsie, cuddling close to Katie. That's my present, the one tied with a green ribbon. I wish it was nicer. Don't you want to open them right away? Of course Katie wanted to. All sorts of things came out of the little bundles. The children had arranged every parcel themselves. No grown person had been allowed to help in the least. Elsie's present was a pen wiper with a gray flannel kitten on it. Johnny's, a dull tea tray of scarlet tin. Isn't it beautiful? she said admiringly. Dory's gift, I regret to say, was a huge red and yellow spider, which word wildly when waved at the end of its string. They didn't want me to buy it, said Heath. I did. I thought it would amuse you. Does it amuse you, Katie? Yes indeed, said Katie, laughing and blinking as Dory waved the spider to and fro before her eyes. You can play with it when we ain't here, and you're all alone, you know, remarked Dory highly gratified. But you don't notice what the tree is standing upon, said Clover. It was a chair, a very large and curious one, with a long cushioned back which ended in a footstool. That's Papa's present, said Clover. See it tips back so to be just like a bed, and Papa says he thinks pretty soon you can lie on it in the window where you can see us play. Does he really? said Katie doubtfully. It still hurt her very much to be touched or moved. And see what's tied to the arm of the chair, said Elsie. It was a little silver bell with Katie engraved on the handle. Cousin Helen sent it. It's for you to ring when you want anybody to come, explained Elsie. More surprises. To the other arm of the chair was fastened a beautiful book. It was the wide, wide world, and there was Katie's name written on it from her affectionate Sessie. On it stood a great parcel of dried cherries from Mrs. Hall. Mrs. Hall had the most delicious dried cherries the children bought. How perfectly lovely everybody is, said Katie with grateful tears in her eyes. It was a pleasant Christmas. The children declared it to be the nicest they had ever had. And though Katie couldn't quite say that, she enjoyed it too and was very happy. It was several weeks before she was able to use the chair, but when once she became accustomed to it, it proved very comfortable. And Elsie would dress her in the morning, tip the chair back till it was on a level with the bed, and then, very gently and gradually, drew her over onto it. Healing across the room was always painful, but sitting in the window and looking out at the clouds, the people going by and the children playing in the snow was delightful. How delightful nobody knows, accepting those who, like Katie, have lain for six months in bed without a peep at the outside world. Every day, she grew brighter and more cheerful. How jolly Santa Claus was this year. She happened to say one day when she was talking with Ceci. I wish another saint would come and pay us a visit, but I don't know any more, except Cousin Helen, and she can't. There's Saint Valentine, suggested Ceci. Sure enough, what a bright thought, cried Katie, clapping her hands. Oh, Ceci, let's do something funny on Valentine's Day. Such a good idea has just popped into my mind. So the two girls put their heads together and held a long, mysterious confabulation. What it was about, we shall see further on. Valentine's Day was the next Friday. When the children came home from school on Thursday afternoon, Aunt Izzy met them, and, to their great surprise, told them that Ceci had come to drink tea, and they must all go upstairs and be made nice. But Ceci comes most every day, remarked Dory, who didn't see the connection between this fact and having his face washed. Yes, but tonight you are to take tea in Katie's room, said Aunt Izzy. Here are the invitations, one for each of you. Sure enough, there was a neat little note for each, requesting the pleasure of their company at Queen Catherine's Palace that afternoon at six o'clock. This put quite a different aspect on the affair. The children scampered upstairs, and pretty soon, all nicely brushed and washed, they were knocking formally at the door of the palace. How fine it sounded. The room looked bright and inviting. Katie, in her chairs, sat close to the fire, Ceci was beside her, and there was a round table all set out with a white cloth and mugs of milk and biscuit and strawberry jam and donuts. In the middle was a loaf of frosted cake. There was something on the icing, which looked like pink letters, and clover, leading forward, read aloud, St. Valentine. What's that for, asked Dory. Why, you know, this is St. Valentine's Eve, replied Katie. Debbie remembered it, I guess, so she put that on. Nothing more was said about St. Valentine just then. But when the last pink letter of his name had been eaten, and the supper had been cleared away, suddenly, as the children sat by the fire, there was a loud rap at the door. Who can that be? said Katie. Please see, clover. So clover opened the door. There stood Bridget trying very hard not to laugh and holding a letter in her hand. It's a note as has come for you, Ms. clover, she said. For me, cried clover, much amazed. Then she shut the door and brought the note to the table. How very funny, she exclaimed, as she looked at the envelope, which was a green and white one. There was something hard inside. Clover broke the seal, outtumbled a small green velvet pin cushion made in the shape of a clover leaf with a tiny stem of wire, wound with green silk. Pinned to the cushion was a paper, with these verses. Some people love roses well, tulips gaily dressed. Some love violets blue and sweet. I love clover best. Though she has a modest air, though no grace she boasts, though no gardener call her fair, I love clover most. Butterfly may pass her by, but he is a rover. I am a faithful, loving bee, and I stick to clover. This was the first Valentine clover I'd ever had. She was perfectly enchanted. Oh, who do you suppose sent it, she cried. But before anybody could answer, there came another loud knock at the door, which made them all jump. Behold, bridge it again with a second letter. It's for you, Miss Elsie, this time, she said with a grin. There was an instant rush from all the children, and the envelope was torn open in the twinkling of an eye. Inside was a little ivory seal with Elsie on it in old English letters, and these rhymes. I know a little girl, she's very dear to me. She is just as sweet as honey, when she chooses so to be, and her name begins with E and ends with E. She has brown hair which curls, and black eyes for to see, with teeth like tiny pearls, and dimples one, two, three, and her name begins with E and ends with E. Her little feet run faster than other feet can flee, as she brushes quickly past her voice hums like a bee, and her name begins with E and ends with E. Do you ask me why I love her? Then I shall answer thee, because I can't help loving. She is so sweet to me, this little girl whose name begins and ends with E. It's just like a fairy story, said Elsie, whose eyes had grown as big a saucers from surprise, while these verses were being read aloud by Sessie. Another knock. This time there was a perfect handful of letters. Everybody had one. Katie, to her great surprise, had two. Why, what can this be, she said? But when she peeped into the second one, she saw Cousin Helen's handwriting, and she put it into her pocket till the valentines should be read. Dory's was open first. It had the picture of a pie at the top. I ought to explain that Dory had lately been having a siege with the dentist. Little Jack Horner sat in his corner, eating his Christmas pie. When a sudden grimace sped over his face, and he began loudly to cry. His tender mama heard the sound from afar, and hastened to comfort her child. With ale of my jawn she inquired in a tone, which belied her question mild. Oh, mother, he said, every tooth in my head jumps an aches and is loose, oh, my! And it hurts me to eat anything that is sweet, so what will become of my pie? It were vain to describe how he roared and he cried, and howled like a miniature tempest. Suffice it to say, but the very next day he had all his teeth pulled by a dentist. This valentine made the children laugh for a long time. Johnny's envelope held a paper doll named Red Riding Hood. These were the verses. I send you my picture, dear Johnny, to show that I'm just as alive as you, and that you needn't cry over my fate any more as you used to do. The wolf didn't hurt me at all that day for I kicked and fought and cried till he dropped me out of his mouth and ran away in the woods to hide. And Grandma and I have lived ever since in the little brown house so small, and churned fresh butter and made cream cheeses, nor seen the wolf at all. So cry no more for fear I am eaten, the naughty wolf is shot, and if you will come to tease him evening, you shall see for yourself I'm not. Johnny was immensely pleased at this, but Red Riding Hood was a great favorite of hers. Philly had a bit of India rubber in his letter, which was written with a very black ink on a big sheet of fool's cap. I was once a naughty man, and I hid beneath the bed to steal your India rubbers, but I chewed them up instead. Then you called out, Who is there? I was thrown most in a fit, and I let the India rubbers fall all but this little bit. I'm sorry for my naughty ways, and now to make amends. I sat in the chewed piece back again, and begged we may be friends. Robber. Just listen to mine, said Sessy, who had all along pretended to be as much surprised as anybody, and now behaved as if she could hardly wait till Philly's was finished. Then she read aloud, If I were a bird and you were a bird, what would we do? While you should be little, and I would be big, and side by side on a cherry tree twig, we'd kiss with our yellow bills and coo, that's what we'd do. If I were a fish and you were a fish, what would we do? We'd frolic and whisk on little tails, and play all sorts of tricks with the whales, and call on the oysters and order a stew, that's what we'd do. If I were a bee and you were a bee, what would we do? We'd find a home in a breezy wood, and store it with honey, sweet and good. You should feed me and I would feed you, that's what we'd do. Valentine. I think that's the prettiest of all, said Clover. I don't, said Elsie. I think mine is the prettiest. Sessie didn't have any seal in hers either, and she fondled a little seal, which all this time she had held in her hand. Katie, you ought to have read yours first, because you are the oldest, said Clover. Mine isn't much, replied Katie, and she read. The rose is red and the violet blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you. What a mean Valentine, cried Elsie with flashing eyes. It's a real shame, Katie, you ought to have had the best of all. Katie could hardly keep from laughing. The fact was that the verses for the others had taken so long that no time had been left for writing a Valentine to herself. So thinking it would excite suspicion to have none, she had scribbled this old rhyme at the last moment. It isn't very nice, she said, trying to look as pensive as she could, but never mind. It's a shame, repeated Elsie, penning her very hard to make up for the injustice. Hasn't it been the funny evening, said John, and Dory replied, Yes, we'd never had such good times before Katie was sick, did we? Katie heard this with a mingle feeling of pleasure and pain. I think the children do love me a little more of late, she said to herself, but oh, why couldn't I be good to them when I was well and strong? She didn't open Cousin Helen's letter until the rest were all gone to bed. I think somebody must have written and told about the Valentine party, for instead of a note, there were these verses in Cousin Helen's own clear pre-hand. It wasn't a Valentine, because it was too solemn, as Katie explained to Clover next day, but, she added, it is a great deal beautifuler than any Valentine that was ever written, and Clover thought so, too. These were the verses. In school. I used to go to a bright school where youth and frolic taught in turn, but I'd all scholar that I was, I liked to play I would not learn. So the great teacher did ordain that I should try the School of Pain. One of the infant class I am with little easy lessons set, in a great book the higher class have harder ones than I and yet. I find mine hard and can't restrain my tears while studdling thus with pain. There are two teachers in the school, one has a gentle voice and low, and smiles upon her scholars as she softly passes to and fro. Her name is Love, to his very plain, she shuns the sharper teacher pain. Or so I sometimes think and then, at other times they meet and kiss, and look so strangely like that I am puzzled to tell how it is, or whence the change which makes it vain to guess if it be love or pain. They tell me if I study well and learn my lessons I shall be, moved upward to that higher class where dear Love teaches constantly. And I work hard and hopes to gain, reward, and get away from pain. Yet pain is sometimes kind and helps me on when I am very dull. I think him often in my heart, but Love is far more beautiful. Under her tender, gentle reign I must learn faster than of pain. So I will do my very best, nor chide the clock nor call it slow, that when the teacher calls me up to see if I am fit to go, I may to Love's high class attain and bid a sweet goodbye to pain. It was a long time before the children ceased to talk and laugh over that jolly evening. Dory declared he wished there could be a Valentine's Day every week. Don't you think St. Valentine would be tired of writing verses, asked Katie. But she too had enjoyed the frolic, and the bright recollection helped her along through the rest of the long cold winter. Spring opened late that year, but the summer, when it came, was a warm one. Katie felt the heat very much. She could not change her seat and follow the breeze about from window to window as other people could. The long burning days left her weak and parched. She hung her head and seemed to wilt like the flowers in the garden beds. Indeed, she was worse off than they. For every evening, Alexander gave them a watering with the hose, while nobody was able to bring a watering pot and pour out what she needed, a shower of cold fresh air. It wasn't easy to be good-humored under these circumstances, and one could hardly have blamed Katie if she had sometimes forgotten her resolutions and been cross and fretful. But she didn't, not very often. Now and then the bad days came, and she was discouraged and forlorn. But Katie's long year of schooling had taught her self-control, and, as a general thing, her discomforts were borne patiently. She could not help growing pale and thin, however, and Papa saw with concern that, as the summer went on, she became too languid to read or study or so, and just sat hour after hour with folded hands, gazing wistfully out of the window. He tried the experiment of taking her to drive, but the motion of the carriage and being lifted in and out brought on so much pain that Katie begged that he would not ask her to go again. So there was nothing to be done but wait for cooler weather. The summer dragged on, and all who loved Katie rejoiced when it was over. When September came, with cool mornings and nights and fresh breezes smelling of pine woods and hilltops, all things seemed to revive and Katie with them. She began to crochet and to read. After a while she collected her books again and tried to study as Cousin Helen had advised. But so many idle weeks made it seem harder work than ever. One day she asked Papa to let her take French lessons. You see, I'm forgetting all I knew, she said, and Clover is going to begin this term, and I don't like that she should get so far ahead of me. Don't you think Mr. Berger would be willing to come here, Papa? He does go to house sometimes. I think he would if we asked him, said Dr. Carr, pleased to see Katie waking up with something like life again. So the arrangement was made. Mr. Berger came twice a week, and sat beside the big chair correcting Katie's exercises and practicing her in the verbs and pronunciation. He was a lively little old Frenchman and knew how to make lesson time pleasant. You take more pain than you used, Menmoselle, you said one day. If you go on so, you shall be my best scholar. And if, to hurt the back, make you study, it would be well that some other of my young ladies shall do the same. Katie laughed. But in spite of Mr. Berger and his lessons, and in spite of her endeavors to keep cheerful and busy, this second winter was harder than the first. It is often so with sick people. There is a sort of excitement in being ill, which helps along just at the beginning. But as months go on and everything grows an old story, and one day follows another day, all just alike and all tiresome, courage is apt to flag and spirits to grow dull. Spring seemed a long, long way off whenever Katie thought about it. I wish something would happen, she often said to herself, and something was about to happen, but she little guessed what it was going to be. Katie, said Clover, coming in one day in November. Do you know where the camphor is? Aunt Izzy has got such a headache. No, replied Katie. I don't. Or wait, Clover, it seems to me that Debbie came in for it the other day. Perhaps if you look in her room you'll find it. How very queer she's so little-quies when Clover was gone. I never knew Aunt Izzy to have a headache before. How was Aunt Izzy, she asked, when Papa came in at noon. Well, I don't know. She has some fever and a bad pain in her head. I have told her that she had better life still and not try to get up this evening. Old Mary will come in to undress you, Katie. You won't mind, will you, dear? No, said Katie reluctantly, but she did mind. Aunt Izzy had grown used to her in her ways. Nobody else suited her as well. It seems so strange to have to explain just how every little thing is to be done, she remarked to Clover rather petulantly. It seems stranger yet when the next day and the next, and the next after that past, and still no Aunt Izzy came near her. Blessings brighten as they take their flight. Katie began to appreciate for the first time how much she had learned to rely on her aunt. She missed her dreadfully. When is Aunt Izzy going to get well, she asked her father. I want her so much. We all want her, said Dr. Carr, who looked disturbed and anxious. Is she very sick? asked Katie, struck by the expression of his face. Pretty sick, I'm afraid, he replied. I'm going to get a regular nurse to take care of her. Aunt Izzy's attack proved to be typhoid fever. The doctors said that the house must be kept quiet, so John and Dory and Phil were sent over to Mrs. Hall's to stay. Elsie and Clover were to have gone too, but they begged so hard and made so many promises of good behavior that finally Papa permitted them to remain. The dear little things stole about the house on Tiptoe as quietly as mice, whispering to each other and waiting on Katie, who would have been lonely enough without them, for everybody else was absorbed in Aunt Izzy. It was a confused melancholy time. The three girls didn't know much about sickness, but Papa's grave face and the hushed house weighed upon their spirits and they missed the children very much. Oh dear, sighed Elsie, how I wish Aunt Izzy would hurry and get well. We'll be real good to her when she does, won't we? said Clover. I never mean to leave my rubbers in the hat stand any more, because she don't like to have me, and I shall pick up the croquet balls and put them in the box every night. Yes, added Elsie, so will I when she gets well. It never occurred to either of them that perhaps Aunt Izzy might not get well. Little people are apt to feel as if grown folks are so strong and so big that nothing can possibly happen to them. Katie was more anxious. Still, she did not fairly realize the danger, so it came like a sudden and violent shock to her when one morning, on waking up, she found Old Mary crying quietly beside the bed with her apron at her eyes. Aunt Izzy had died in the night. All their kind, penitent thoughts of her, their resolutions to please, their plans for obeying her wishes and saving her trouble were too late. For the first time, the three girls sobbing in each other's arms realized what a good friend Aunt Izzy had been to them. Her worrying ways were all forgotten now. They could only remember the many kind things she had done for them since they were little children, how they wished that they had never teased her, never said sharp words about her to each other, but it was no use to wish. What shall we do without Aunt Izzy? thought Katie as she cried herself to sleep that night, and the question came into her mind again and again, after the funeral was over and the little ones had come back from Mrs. Hall's and things began to go on in their usual manner. For several days she saw almost nothing of her father. Clever reported that he looked very tired and scarcely said a word. Did Papa eat any dinner? asked Katie one afternoon. Not much. He said he wasn't hungry, and Mrs. Jackson's boy came for him before we were through. Oh dear, said Katie, I do hope he isn't going to be sick. How it rains. Clovie, I wish you'd run down and get out his slippers and put them by the fire to warm. Oh, and ask Debbie to make some cream toast for tea. Papa likes cream toast. After tea, Dr. Carr came upstairs to sit a while in Katie's room. He often did so, but this was the first time since Aunt Izzy's death. Katie studied his face anxiously. It seemed to her that it had grown older of late, and there was a sad look upon it, which made her heart ache. She longs to do something for him, but all she could do was to poke the fire bright and then to possess herself with his hand and stroke it gently with both hers. It wasn't much, to be sure, but I think Papa liked it. What have you been about all day? he asked. Oh, nothing much, said Katie. I studied my French lesson this morning, and after school Elsie and John brought in their patchwork and we had a bee. That's all. I've been thinking how weird to manage about the housekeeping, said Dr. Carr. Of course, we shall have to get somebody to come and take charge, but it isn't easy to find just the right person. Mrs. Hall knows of a woman who might do, but she is out west, just now, and it will be a week or two before we can hear from her. Do you think you can get on as you are for a few days? Oh, Papa, cried Katie in dismay. Must we have anybody? Why, how did you suppose we were going to arrange it? Clover is much too young for a housekeeper, and besides, she is out at school all day. I don't know. I hadn't thought about it, said Katie in a perplexed tone, but she did think about it all that evening and the first thing when she woke up in the morning. Papa, she said the next time she had him to herself. I've been thinking over what you were saying last night about getting somebody to keep the house, you know, and I wish you wouldn't. I wish you would let me try. Really and truly, I think I could manage. But how, asked Dr. Carr, much surprised, I really don't see. If you were well and strong, perhaps, but even then you would be pretty young for such a charge, Katie. I shall be fourteen in two weeks, said Katie, drawing herself up in her chair as straight as she could. And if I were well, Papa, I should be going to school, you know, and then of course I couldn't. No, I'll tell you my plan. I've been thinking about it all day. Debian Bridget have been with us so long that they know all Andrews' ways, and they're such good women that all they want is just to be told a little now and then. Now, why couldn't they come up to me when anything is wanted just as well as to have me go down to them? Clover and old Mary will help keep watch, you know, and see if anything is wrong. And you wouldn't mind if things were a little crooked just at first, would you? Because, you know, I should be learning all the time. Do let me try. It will be real nice to have something to think about as I sit up here alone. So much better than having a stranger in the house who doesn't know the children or anything. I am sure it will make me happier. Please say yes, Papa. Please do. It's too much for you. A great deal too much, replied Dr. Carr. But it was not easy to resist, Katie. Please, please. And after a while it ended with, Well, darling, you may try, although I am doubtful, as to the result of the experiment. I will tell Mrs. Hall to put off writing to Wisconsin for a month, and we will see. Poor child, anything to take her thoughts off herself, he muttered, as he walked down the stairs. She'll be glad enough to give the thing up by the end of the month. But Papa was mistaken. At the end of the month, Katie was eager to go on. So he said, Very well, she might try till the spring. It was not such hard work as it sounds. Katie had plenty of quiet thinking time, for one thing. The children were at school all day, and few visitors came to interrupt her, so she could plan out her hours, and keep to the plans. That is a great help to a housekeeper. Then, and in these regular, punctual ways, were so well understood by the servants, that the house seemed almost to keep itself. As Katie had said, all Debbie and Bridget needed was a little telling now and then. As soon as breakfast was over, and the dishes were washed and put away, Debbie would tie on a clean apron, and come upstairs for orders. At first, Katie thought this was great fun. But after ordering dinner a good many times, it began to grow tiresome. She never saw the dishes after they were cooked, and, being inexperienced, it seemed impossible to think of things enough to make a variety. Let me see, there is roast beef, leg of mutton, boiled chicken, she would say, counting on her fingers. Roast beef, leg of mutton, boiled chicken. Debbie, you might roast the chickens. Dear, I wish somebody would invent a new animal. Where all the things to eat are gone too, I can't imagine. Then Katie would send for every recipe book in the house. And pour over them by the hour, till her appetite was as completely gone as if she had swallowed 20 dinners. Poor Debbie learned to dread these books. She would stand by the door with her pleasant red face drawn up into a pucker, while Katie read aloud some impossible-sounding rule. This looks as if it were delicious. Debbie, I wish you would try it. Take a gallon of oysters, a pint of beef stock, 16 soda crackers, the juice of two lemons, four cloves, a glass of white wine, a sprig of marjoram, a sprig of thyme, a sprig of bay, a sliced shallot. Please, Miss Katie, what's them? Oh, don't you know, Debbie? It must be something quite common for it's in almost all the recipes. No, Miss Katie, I never heard tell of it before. Miss Carr never gave me no shell outs at all at all. Dear me, how provoking Katie would cry, flapping over the leaves of her book. Then we must try something else. Poor Debbie. If she hadn't loved Katie so dearly, I think her patience must have given way. But she bore her trials meekly, except for an occasional grumble when alone with Bridget. Dr. Carr had to eat a great many queer things in those days. But he didn't mind, and as for the children, they enjoyed it. Dinner time became quite exciting when nobody could tell exactly what any dish on the table was made of. Dory, who was a sort of Dr. Livingstone where strange articles of food were concerned, usually made the first experiment, and if he said that it was good, the rest followed suit. After a while, Katie grew wiser. She ceased teasing Debbie to try new things, and the Carr family went back to plain roast and boiled, much to the advantage of all concerned. But then another series of experiments began. Katie got hold of a book upon the stomach, and was seized with a rage for wholesome food. She entreated Clover and the other children to give up sugar and butter and gravy, and pudding sauce and buckwheat cakes and pies, and almost everything else that they particularly liked. Boiled rice seemed to her the most sensible dessert, and she kept the family on it until, finally, John and Dory started a rebellion, and Dr. Carr was forced to interfere. My dear, you are overdoing it, sadly, he said, as Katie opened her book and prepared to explain her views. I am glad to have the children eat simple food, but really, boiled rice five times in a week is too much. Katie sighed but submitted. Later, as the spring came on, she had a fit of over-anxiousness, and was always sending Clover down to ask Debbie if her bread was not burning, or if she was sure that the pickles were not fermenting in their jars. She also fidgeted the children about wearing India rubbers and keeping on their coats, and behaved all together as if the cares of the world were on her shoulders. But all these were the natural mistakes of a beginner. Katie was too much in earnest not to improve. Month by month, she learned how to manage a little better, and a little better still. Matters went on more smoothly. Her cares ceased to fret her. Dr. Carr, watching the increasing brightness of her face and manner, felt that the experiment was a success. Nothing more was said about somebody else, and Katie, sitting upstairs in her big chair, held the threads of the house firmly in her hands. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of What Katie Did This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mark Tanti What Katie Did by Susan Coolidge Chapter 12 Two Years Afterward It was a pleasant morning in early June. A warm wind was rustling the trees, which were covered thickly with half-opened leaves, and looked like fountains of green spray thrown high into the air. Dr. Carr's front doors stood wide open, to the parlor window came the sound of piano practice, and on the steps, under the budding roses, sat a small figure, busily sewing. This was Clover, little Clover still no more than two years had passed since she saw her lost, and she was now her 14. Clover was never intended to be told. Her eyes were as blue and sweet as ever, and her apple blossom cheeks as pink. But the brown pigtails were pinned up into a round knot, and the childish face had gained almost a womanly look. Old Mary declared that Miss Clover was getting quite young ladyfied, and Miss Clover was quite aware of the fact, and mightily pleased with it. It delighted her to turn up her hair, and she was very particular about having her dresses made to come below the tops of her boots. She had also left off ruffles, and wore narrow colors instead, and little cuffs with sleeve buttons to fasten them. These sleeve buttons, which were present from cousin Helen, Clover liked best of all her things. Papa said that he was sure she took down the bed with her, but of course that was only a joke, though she certainly was never seen without them at the daytime. She glanced frequently at these beloved buttons as she sat sewing, and every now and then laid down her work to twist them into a better position, or give them an affectionate bed with her forefinger. Pretty soon the side gates swung open, and Philly came around the corner of the house. He had grown into a big boy. All his pretty baby curls were cut off, and his frocks had given place to jacket and trousers. In his hand he held something what Clover could not see. What's that? She said as he reached the steps. I'm going upstairs to ask Kate if these are ripe, replied Philly, exiting some current's fateful streak with red. Why? Of course they're not ripe, said Clover, putting one into her mouth. Can't you tell by the taste? They're as green as can be. I don't care if Katey says they're ripe, I shall eat them, answered Philly defiantly, marching into the house. What did Philly want? Asked Elsie, opening the parter doors, Philly went upstairs. Only to know if the currents are ripe enough to eat. How particular he always is about asking now, said Elsie. He's afraid of another dose of salts. I should think he would be, replied Clover, laughing. Joanie says she was never so scared in her life as when Papa called them and they looked up and saw him standing there with the bottle in one hand and the spoon in the other. Yes, went on Elsie. And you know, Dory held his in his mouth forever so 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 remembered that after all, Dory had the bad taste a great deal longer than 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 the green gooseberries since. Have you got through practicing? It doesn't seem like an hour yet. Oh, it isn't. It's only 25 minutes. But Katie told me not to sit more than half an hour at a time without getting up and running around 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 briskly before and behind her as she walked. Why, what is Bridget doing in Papa's room? She asked as she came back the second time. She's flapping things out the window. Are the girls up there? I thought they were cleaning the dining room. They're doing both. Katie said it was such a good chance, having Papa away, that she would have both the carpets taken up at once. There isn't going to be any dinner today, only just bread and butter and milk and cold ham up in Katie's room, because Debbie is helping too, so as to get through and save Papa all the fuss. And see, exhibiting her sewing. Katie's making a new cover for Papa's pink cushion, and I'm having the ruffle to go around it. How nicely a ham, said Elsie. I wish I had something for Papa's room, too. There's my worst-end mats, but the one for soap dishes isn't finished. These are pose if Katie would excuse me from the rest of my practicing. I could get it done. I have a great mind to go and ask her. There's her bell, said Clover, as a little tingle sounded upstairs. I'll ask her, if you like. No, let me go. I'll see what she wants. But Clover was already halfway across the hall, and the two girls ran up side by side. There was often a little stride between them, as to which should answer Katie's bell. Both liked to wait on her so much. Katie came to meet them as they entered. Not on her feet, that, alas, was still only a far of possibility, but in a chair with large wheels, with which she was rolling herself across the room. This chair was a great comfort to her. Sitting in it, you could get to her closet and her blu-ow drawers, and help herself to what she wanted without troubling anybody. It was only lately that she had been able to use it. Dr. Kark considered her doing so as a hopeful sign, but he had never told Katie this. She had grown accustomed to her invented life at last, and was cheerful in it, and he thought it was unwise to make her restless by exciting hopes, which might, after all, end in fresh disappointment. She met the girls with a bright smile as they came in, and said, Oh, Clovie, it was you I rang for. I am troubled for fear Brigitte will meddle with the things on Papa's table. You know, he likes them to be left just so. Would you please go and remind her that she is not to touch them at all? After the carpet is put down, I want you to dust the table so as to be sure that everything is put back in the same place. Would you? Of course I will, said Clover, who was a born housewife and dearly loved of Actas Katie's Prime Minister. Shouldn't I fetch you the pink cushion too, while I'm there? Oh yes, please do. I want to measure. Katie, said Elsie, those mats of mine are most done, and I would like to finish them and put them on Papa's watchstand before he comes back. Maintain I stop practicing now and bring my crotchet up here instead. Will there be plenty of time to learn the new exercise before Miss Phillips comes, if you do? I think so, plenty. She doesn't come to the Friday, you know. Well then, it seems to me that you might just as well as not. And Elsie, dear, run into Papa's room first and bring me the drawer out of his table. I want to put that in order myself. Elsie went cheerfully. She laid the drawer across Katie's lap, and Katie began to dust in the rain to contents. Pretty soon Clover joined them. Here's the pink cushion, she said. Now we'll have a nice quiet time all by ourselves, won't we? I like the sort of day when nobody comes in to interrupt us. Somebody tapped at the door as she spoke. Katie called out, Come, and then marched the tall, brooch-older lad with a solemn, sensible face, and the little clock carried carefully in his boat his arms. This was Dory. He had grown and improved very much since he saw him last, and is turning out clever in several ways. Among the rest, he has developed a strong turn for mechanics. Here's your clock, Katie, he said. I've got it fixed so that his strike's all right. Only you must be careful not to hit the striker when you start the pendulum. Have you really, said Katie? Why, Dory, you're a genius. I'm ever so much obliged. It's four minutes to eleven now, went on Dory. So the strike pretty soon. I guess I'd better stay and hear it. So as to be sure that it is right. That is, he added politely, unless you're busy and would rather not. I'm never too busy to want you, old fellow, said Katie, stroking his arm. Here, this drawer is arranged now. Don't you want to carry it into Papa's room and put it back into the table? Your hands are stronger than Elsie's. Dory looked gratified. When he came back, the clock was just beginning to 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 a day after tomorrow, at least. Dory stared with open mouth at the clock, which was still striking as though it would split its sides. Elsie's screaming with laughter kept count. Thirty, thirty-one, oh Dory, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four. You've bewitched it, Dory, said Katie, as much entertained as the rest. Then they all began counting. Dory seized the clock, shook it, slapped it, turned it upside down. But still, the sharp vibrating sounds continued, as if the clock having got its way for once meant to go on till it was tired out. At last, at the one hundred and thirty, it stroked. It suddenly seized. And Dory, with a red face, amazed countenance, faced the laughing crowd. It's very queer, he said, but I'm sure it's not because of anything I did. I can fix it though, if you'll let me try again. May I, Katie? I'll promise not to hurt it. For a moment, Katie hesitated. Clover pulled her sleeve and whispered, Don't! Dancing, the mortification on Dory's face, she made up her mind. Yes, take it, Dory, I'm sure you'll be careful. But if I were you, I'd carry it down to whether else, 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 Dory. Yes, yes, I think I will. Then he departed, with the clock under his arm, while Clover called after him teasingly. Lunch at 132 o'clock, don't forget. No, I won't, said Dory. Two years before he would not have borne beloved at so good naturedly. How could you let him take your clock again, said Clover, as soon as the 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. Replied Katie quietly. I don't believe he'll hurt it, whether else man likes Dory, and he'll show him what to do. You were real good to do it, responded Clover. But if it had been mine, I don't think I could. Just then the door flew open, and Joanie rushed in. Two years taller, but otherwise looking exactly as she used to. Oh, Katie! She gasped. Won't you please tell Philly not to wash the chickens and drain water tub? He's put in every one of speckles, and it's just beginning on dame-durdens. I'm afraid one little yellow one is dead already. Why? He mustn't. Of course he mustn't, said Katie. What made him think of such a thing? He says they're dirty because they've just come out of eggshells. And he insists that the yellow one them is yolk of egg. I told him it wasn't, but he wouldn't listen to me. And Joanie rung her hands. Clover! cried Katie. Won't you run down and ask Philly to come up to me? Speak pleasantly, you know. I spoke pleasantly. Real pleasantly. But it wasn't any use, said Joanie, on whom the rungs of the chicks had evidently made a deep impression. What a mischief Philly's getting to be, said Elsie. Papa says his name ought to be Pickle. Pickle's turned out very nicely sometimes, you know, replied Katie, laughing. Pretty soon Philly came up, escorted by Clover. He looked a little defiant, but Katie understood how to manage him. She lifted him into her lap, which big boy as he was, he liked extremely. And talked to him so affectionately about the poor little shivering chicks that his heart was quite melted. I didn't mean to hurt them, really and truly, he said. But they were all dirty and yellow with egg, you know, and I thought you'd like me to clean them up. But that wasn't egg, Philly. It was dear little clean feathers like a canary bird's wings. Was it? Yes, and now the chickies are as cold and furloughed as you would feel if you tumbled into a pond and nobody gave you any dry clothes. Don't you think you ought to go and warm them? How? Well, in your hands very gently, and then I would let them run around in 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 Katie. Miss Pattingill said it was wonderful to see how that child let himself be managed. But I think the secret was that Katie didn't manage, but tried to be always kind and loving and considered of Philly's feelings. Before the echo of his boots had fairly died away on the stairs, Old Mary put her head into the door. There was a distressed expression on her face. Miss Katie, she said. I wish you'd speak to Alexander about putting the witchet in order. I don't think you know how bad it looks. I don't suppose I do, said Katie, smiling and then sighing. She had never seen the witchet since the day of her fall from the swing. Never mind, Mary, I'll talk to Alexander about it and he shall make it all nice. Mary trotted downstairs satisfied. But in the course of a few minutes, she was up again. There is a man with a box of soap, Miss Katie, and here's the bill. He says it's resetted. It took Katie little time to find her purse, and then she wanted her pencil and account book. And then she had to move from her seat at the tail. Oh dear, she said. I wish people wouldn't keep coming and interrupting us. Who'll be next, I wonder? She was not left to wander long. Almost as she spoke, there was another knock at the door. Come in, said Katie, rather wearily. The door opened. Shall I, said a voice. There was a rustle of skirts, a clutter of boot heels, and the mogul clerks swept into the room. Katie could not think who it was at first. She had not seen a mogul for almost two years. I found the front door open, explained the mogul and her high-pitched voice, and as nobody seemed to hear when I rang the bell, I ventured to come right upstairs. I hope I'm not interrupting anything private. Not at all, said Katie politely. Elsie dear, move up that low chair please. Do sit down a mogul. I'm sorry nobody answered your ring, but the servants are cleaning house today, and I suppose they didn't hear. So mogul sat down and began to rattle on in her usual manner, while the Elsie from behind Katie's chair took a wide awake survey of her dress. It was of cheap material, but very gorgeously made and trimmed, with flounces and puffs, and the mogul wore a jet necklace and long black earrings, which jingled and clicked when she waved her head about. She still had the little round curls stuck on to her cheeks, and Elsie wondered and knew what kept them in their places. By and by, the object of mogul's visit came out. She had called to say goodbye. The Clark family were all going back to Jacksonville to live. Did you ever see the brigand again? Asked over who had never forgotten the eventful tale told in the parlor. Yes, replied the mogul several times, and I get letters from him quite often. He writes beautiful letters. I wish I had one with me so that I could read you a little bit. You would enjoy it, I know. Let me see, perhaps I have. As she put her hand into her pocket, sure enough there was a letter. Clover could it help suspecting that the mogul knew it all the time. The brigand seemed to write a bold black hand, and his no-paper-end envelope was just like anybody else's. But perhaps his band had surprised the peddler with a box of stationery. Let me see, said the mogul, running her eye down the page. Attored, mogul. That would interest you. Hmm, hmm. Ah, here's something. I took dinner at the rock house on Christmas. It was lonesome without you. I had roast turkey, roast goof, roast beef, minced pie, plump pudding, and nuts and raisins. A pretty good dinner, was it not? But nothing tastes first-rate when friends are away. Katie and Clover stirred. As well they might. Such language from a brigand. John Belinks has bought a new horse. Continue the mogul. Hmm, hmm. Hmm, him. I don't think there's anything else you'd care about. Oh yes, just here at the end is some poetry. Come, little love, with azure wing, and brood upon my breast. That's sweet, ain't it? Hasn't he reformed, said Clover? He rises up ahead. Reformed, cry the mogul with a toss of the jingling gearing. He was always just as good as he could be. There was nothing to be said in reply to this. Katie felt her lips twitch, and for fear she would be rude and laugh out, she began to talk as fast as she could about something else. All the time she found herself taking measure of mogul, and thinking, did I ever really like her? How queer. Oh, what a wise man, papa is. A mogul stayed half an hour. Then she took her leave. She never asked how you were, cried Elsie, indignantly. I noticed she didn't, not once. Oh well, I suppose she forgot. We were talking about her, not about me, replied Katie. The little group settled down again to their work. This time an hour went by without any more interruptions. Then the doorbell rang, and Bridget, with a disturbed face, came upstairs. Miss Katie, she said. It's old Mrs. Warrant, and I reckon she's gone to spend the day. For she's brought her bag. What ever shall I tell her? Katie looked dismayed. Oh dear, she said. How unlucky! What can we do? Miss Warrant was an old friend of Antiziz, who lived in the country, about six miles from Burnett, and wasn't the habit of coming to doctor cars for lunch, on days when shopping or other business brought her into town. This did not occur often, and as it happened Katie had never had to entertain her before. Tell her you're busy and can't see her, suggested Bridget. There is no dinner nor nothing, you know. The Katie of two years ago would probably have jumped at this idea, but the Katie of the day was more considerate. No, she said. I don't like to do that. We must just make the best of it, Bridget. Run down, Clover, dear, that's a good girl, and tell Mrs. Warrant that the dining room is all in confusion, but that we're going to have lunch here. And after she's rested, I should be glad to have her come. And, oh, Clovie, give her a fan, the first thing. She'll be so hot. Bridget, you can bring up the lunch in just the same. Only take out some canned peaches by way of a dessert. And make Mrs. Warrant a 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 the rocking chair a little this way, Elsie, and, oh, push all those little chairs back against the wall. Mrs. Warrant broke down in one the last time she was here. Don't you recollect? It took some time to cool Mrs. Warrant off. So, nearly 20 minutes passed before a heavy, creaking step on the steps announced that the guest was on her way up. Elsie began to giggle. Mrs. Warrant always made her giggle. Katie had just time to give her a warning glance before the door opened. Mrs. Warrant was the most enormously fat person ever seen. Nobody dared to guess how much she weighed, but she looked as if it might be a thousand pounds. Her face was extremely red, and the coldest weather she appeared hot, and on a mild day she seemed absolutely ready to melt. Her body strings were flying loose as she came in, and she found herself all the way across the room, with shock as she walked. Well, dear, she said as she plumped herself into the rocking chair. And how do you do? Very well, thank you, replied Katie, thinking that she'd ever saw Mrs. Warrant look half so fat before, and wondering how she was to entertain her. And how's your appa? inquired Mrs. Warrant. Katie answered politely, and then asked off her Mrs. Warrant's own health. Well, I'm supposed to be around, was the reply, which had the effect of sending Elsie into a fit of compulsive laughter behind Katie's chair. I had business at the bank, continued the visitor, and I thought while I was about it I'd step up to Mrs. Pettingles and see if I couldn't get her to come and let out my black silk. It was made quite a piece back, and I seemed to have fleshed up since then, for I can't make the hooks and eyes meet at all. But when I got here, she was out, so I'd my walk for nothing. Do you know where she's going now? No, said Katie, feeling her chair shake, and heaving her own countenance with difficulty. She was here for three days last week to make Johnny a school dress, but I haven't heard anything about her since. Elsie, don't you want to run downstairs and ask Brigitte to bring a glass of iced water for Mrs. Warrant? She looks warm after her walk. Elsie dreadfully ashamed made the bold from the room and hit herself in the whole closet to have her laugh out. She came back after a while with a perfectly straight face. Luncheon was brought up. Mrs. Warrant made a good meal and seemed to enjoy everything. She was so comfortable that she never stirred till four o'clock. Oh, how long that afternoon did seem to the poor girl sitting there and trying to think of something to say to their vast visitor. That lost Mrs. Warrant got out of her chair and prepared to depart. Well, she said, tying her bonnet strings. I've had a good rest and feel all the better for it. Ain't some of you young folks coming out to see 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 and make her feel at home as you have big 80. I wish your aunt could see you all as you are now. She'd be right, please. I know that. Somehow this sentence rang pleasantly in Katie's ears. Ah, don't laugh at her. She said later in the evening when the children, after their tea in the clean fresh smelling dining room were come up to sit with her and Chessie and her pretty pink lawn and white shower had dropped in to spend an hour or two. He's a real kind old woman and I don't like to have you. It isn't her fault that she's fat. And Aunt Izzy was fond of her, you know. It is doing something for her when we can show a little attention to one of her friends. I was sorry when she came, but now it's over. I'm glad. It feels so nice when it stops aching, quoted Elsie mischievously while Chessie whispered to Clover. Isn't Katie sweet? Isn't she? replied Clover. I wish I was half so good. Sometimes I think I should really be sorry if she ever gets well. She's such a dear old darling to us all sitting there in her chair that it wouldn't seem so 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 gross lambang and horrid, like some of the girls, even if she were well. Of course she wouldn't, replied Chessie. End of 12. Recording by Marc Tanti. Malta. Chapter 13 of What Katie Did This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kira Belkin. What Katie Did by Susan Coolidge. Chapter 13 At Last It was about six weeks after this that one day, Clover and Elsie were busy downstairs. They were startled by the sound of Katie's bell ringing in a sudden and agitated manner. Both ran up two steps at a time to see what was wanted. Katie sat in her chair, looking very much flushed and excited. Oh, girls, she exclaimed. What do you think? I stood up. What? cried Clover and Elsie. I really did. I stood up on my feet, by myself. The others were too much astonished to speak. So Katie went on explaining. It was all at once, you see. Suddenly, I had the feeling that if I tried, I could. And almost before I thought, I did try. And there I was, up and out of the chair. Only, I kept told of the arm all the time. Don't know how I got back. I was so frightened. Oh, girls. And Katie buried her face in her hands. Do you think I shall ever be able to do it again? She asked, looking up with wet eyes. Well, of course you will, said Clover. Well, Elsie danced about, crying out anxiously. Be careful. Do be careful. Katie tried, but the spring was gone. She could not move out of the chair at all. She began to wonder if she had dreamed the whole thing. But next day, when Clover happened to be in the room, she heard a sudden exclamation and turning. There stood Katie, absolutely on her feet. Papa, Papa, shrieked Clover, rushing downstairs. Dory, John, Elsie, calm. Come and see. Papa was out. But all the rest crowded up at once. This time, Katie found no trouble in doing it again. It seems as if her will had been asleep. And now that it had waked up, the limbs recognized its orders and obeyed them. When Papa came in, he was as much excited as any of the children. He walked round and round the chair, questioning Katie and making her stand up and sit down. Am I really going to get well, she asked, almost in a whisper. Yes, my love, I think you are, replied Dr. Carr, seizing Phil and giving him a toss into the air. None of the children had ever before seen Papa behave so like a boy. But pretty soon, noticing Katie's burning cheeks and excited eyes, he calmed himself, sent the others all away and sat down to soothe and quiet her with gentle words. I think it is coming, my darling, he said, but it will take time. You must have a great deal of patience. After being such a good child all the years, I am sure you won't fail now. Remember, any imprudence will put you back. You must be content to gain a very little at a time. There is no royal road to walking any more than there is to learning. Every baby finds that out. Oh, Papa said, Katie, it's no matter if it takes a year, if only I get well at last. How happy she was that night, too happy to sleep. Papa noticed the dark circles under her eyes in the morning and shook his head. You must be careful, he told her, or you'll be laid up again. Of course, a fever would put you back for years. Katie knew Papa was right, and she was careful, though it was by no means easy to be so, with that new life tingling in every limb. Her progress was slow, as Dr. Carr had predicted. At first, she only stood on her feet a few seconds, then a minute, then five minutes, then a second. Then a minute, then five minutes, holding tightly all the while by the chair. Next, she ventured to let go of the chair and stand alone. After that, she began to walk a step at a time, pushing a chair before her as children do when they are learning the use of their feet. Clover and Elsie hovered about her as she moved, like anxious mamas. It was droll and a little pitiful to see tall Katie with her feeble, unsteady progress, and the active figures of the little sisters following her protectingly. But Katie did not consider it either droll or pitiful. To her, it was simply delightful, the most delightful thing possible. No baby of a year old was ever prouder of his first steps than she. Gradually, she grew adventurous and ventured on a bolder flight. Clover, running upstairs one day to her own room, stood transfixed at the sight of Katie sitting there flushed, panting, but enjoying the surprise she caused. You see, she explained, in an apologizing tone. I was seized with the desire to explore. It is such a time since I saw any room but my own, but oh dear, how long that hall is. I had forgotten it could be so long. I shall have to take a good rest before I go back. Katie did take a good rest, but she was very tired next day. The experiment, however, did no harm. In the course of two or three weeks, she was able to walk all over the second story. This was a great enjoyment. It was like reading an interesting book to see all the new things and the little changes. She was forever wondering over something. Why, Dory, she would say, what a pretty bookshelf. When did you get it? That old thing? Why, I've had it two years. Didn't I ever tell you about it? Perhaps you did, Katie would reply. But you see, I never saw it before, so it made no impression. By the end of August she was grown so strong that she began to talk about going downstairs. But Papa said, wait. It will tire you much more than walking about on a level, he explained. You better put it off a little while, till you are quite sure of your feet. I think so too, said Clover. And besides, I want to have the house all put in order and made nice before your sharp eyes see it. Mrs. Housekeeper. Oh, I'll tell you, such a beautiful idea has come into my head. You shall fix the day to come down, Katie, and we'll be all ready for you and have a celebration among ourselves. That will be just lovely. How soon may she, Papa? Well, in ten days, I should say, I might be safe. Ten days? That will bring into the seventh of September, won't it, said Katie? And Papa, if I may, I'll come downstairs the first time on the eighth. It was Mama's birthday, you know, she added, in a lower voice. So it was settled. How delicious, cried Clover, skipping about and clapping her hands. I never, never, never did hear anything so perfectly lovely. Papa, when are you coming downstairs? I want to speak to you dreadfully. Right away, rather than have my coattails pulled off, answered Dr. Carr laughing, and they went away together. Katie sat looking out of the window in a peaceful, happy mood. Oh, she thought. Can it really be? Is school going to let out just as Cousin Helen's hymn said? Am I going to bid a sweet goodbye to pain? But there was love in the pain. I see it now. How good the dear teacher has been to me. Clover seemed to be very dizzy all the rest of that week. She was having windows lost, she said. But this explanation hardly accounted for her long absences and the mysterious exultation on her face, not to mention certain sounds of hammering and sawing, which came from downstairs. The other children had evidently been warned to say nothing. For once or twice, Philly broke out with, Oh, Katie! And then hushed himself up, saying, I must forgot. Katie grew very curious. But she saw that the secret, whatever it was, gave immense satisfaction to everybody except herself. So, though she longed to know, she concluded not to spoil the fun by asking any questions. At last, it wanted but one day of the important occasion. See, said Katie, as Clover came into the room a little before tea time. Miss Pettingill has brought home my new dress. I'm going to wear it for the first time to go downstairs. How pretty, said Clover, examining the dress, which was a soft, dove-colored cashmere, trimmed with ribbon of the same shade. But Katie, I came up to shut your door. Bridges going to sweep the hall, and I don't want the dust to fly in, because your room was brushed this morning, you know. What a queer time to sweep a hall, said Katie, wonderingly. Why don't you make her wait till morning? Oh, she can't. There are—she has— I mean, there will be other things for her to do tomorrow. It's a great deal more convenient that she should do it now. Don't worry, Katie, darling, but just keep your door shut. You will, won't you? Promise me? Very well, said Katie, more and more amazed, but yielding to Clover's eagerness. I'll keep it shut. Her curiosity was excited. She took a book and tried to read, but the letter stands up and down before her eyes. And she couldn't help listening. Bridget was making a most ostentatious noise with her broom. But through it all, Katie seemed to hear other sounds. Feet on the stairs, doors opening and shutting. Once a stifled giggle—how queer it all was. Never mind, she said, resolutely stopping her ears. I shall know all about it tomorrow. Tomorrow dawned fresh and fair, the very ideal of a September day. Katie, said Clover, as she came in from the garden with her hands full of flowers, that dress of yours is sweet. You never look so nice before in your life. And she stuck a beautiful carnation pink under Katie's breastpin and fastened another in her hair. There, she said, now you're adorned. Pop is coming up in a few minutes to take you down. Just then, Elsie and Johnny came in. They had on their best frocks. So had Clover. It was evidently a festival day to all the house. Cece followed, invited over for the special purpose of seeing Katie walk downstairs. She, too, had on a new frock. How fine we are, said Clover, as she remarked this magnificence. Turn round, Cece. A pannier I do declare, and a sash. You're getting awfully grown up, Miss Hall. None of us will ever be so grown up as Katie, said Cece, laughing. And now Papa appeared. Very slowly, they all went downstairs. Katie leaning on Papa, with Dory on her other side, and the girls behind, while Philly clattered ahead. In there were Debbie and Bridget and Alexander, peeping out of the kitchen door to watch her, and dear old Mary with her apron at her eyes, crying for joy. Oh, the front door is open, said Katie in a delighted tone. How nice! And what a pretty oil cloth. That's new since I was here. Don't stop to look at that, cried Philly. You seemed in a great hurry about something. It isn't new. It's been there ever and ever so long. Coming to the parlor instead. Yes, said Papa. Dinner isn't quite ready yet. You'll have time to rest a little after you walk downstairs. You have worn it admirably, Katie. Are you very tired? Not a bit, replied Katie cheerfully. I could do it alone, I think. Oh, the bookcase door has been mended. How nice it looks. Don't wait, oh don't wait, repeated Phil in an agony of impatience. So they moved on. Papa opened the parlor door. Katie took one step into the room, then stopped. The color flashed over her face, and she held by the doorknob to support herself. What was it that she saw? Not merely the room itself, with its fresh muslin curtains and vases of flowers, nor even the wide beautiful window which had been cut toward the sun, or the inviting little couch and table which stood there, evidently for her. No, there was something else. The sofa was pulled out, and there upon it, supported by pillows, her bright eyes turned to the door, lay, Cousin Helen! When she saw Katie, she held out her arms. Clover and Cece agreed afterward that they never were so frightened in their lives as at this moment for Katie. Forgetting her weakness, let go of Papa's arm, and absolutely ran toward the sofa. Oh Cousin Helen! Dear, dear, Cousin Helen! She cried. Then she tumbled down by the sofa somehow. The two pairs of arms and the two faces met, and for a moment or two, not a word more was heard from anybody. Isn't it a nice prize, shouted Billy? Turning in a summer set by way of relieving his feelings. While John and Dory executed a sort of ward dance around the sofa, Phil's voice seemed to break the spell of silence, and a perfect hubbub of questions and exclamations began. It appeared that this happy thought of getting Cousin Helen to the celebration was Clover's. She it was who had proposed it to Papa, and made all the arrangements. And, artful puss, she had set Bridget to sweep the hall, on purpose that Katie might not hear the noise of the arrival. Cousin Helen's going to stay three weeks this time. Isn't that nice, asked Elsie? While Clover anxiously questioned. Are you sure that you didn't suspect? Not one bit? Not the least tiny weenie might? No indeed, not the least. How could I suspect anything so perfectly delightful? And Katie gave Cousin Helen another rapturous kiss. Such a short day as that seemed. There was so much to see to ask about to talk over that the hours flew, and evening dropped upon the mall like another great surprise. Cousin Helen was perhaps the happiest of the party. Beside the pleasure of knowing Katie to be almost well again, she had the additional enjoyment of seeing for herself how many changes for the better had taken place during the four years among the little cousins she loved so much. It was very interesting to watch the mall. Elsie and Dory seemed to hurt the most improved of the family. Elsie had quite lost her plaintive luck and little injured tone, and was as bright and beaming a maiden of twelve as anyone could wish to see. Dory's moody face had grown open and sensible, and his manners were good-humored and obliging. He was still a sober boy, and not especially quick in catching an idea, but he promised to turn out a valuable man. And to him, as to all the other children, Katie was evidently the center and the sun. They all revolved about her, trusted her for everything. Cousin Helen looked on as Phil came in crying after a hard tumble, and was consoled as Johnny whispered an important secret, and Elsie begged for help in her work. She saw Katie meet them all pleasantly and sweetly, without a bit of the dictatorial elder sister in her manner, and with none of her old, impetuous tone. And best of all, she saw the change in Katie's own face. The gentle expression of her eyes, the womanly look, the pleasant voice, the politeness, the tact in advising the others, without seeming to advise. Dear Katie, she said a day or two after her arrival, this visit is a great pleasure to me. You can't think how great. It is such a contrast to the last I made when you were so sick and everybody so sad. Do you remember? Indeed I do, and how good you were and how you helped me. I shall never forget that. I'm glad, but what I could do was very little. You have been learning by yourself all this time. And Katie, darling, I want to tell you how pleased I am to see how bravely you have worked your way up. I can perceive it in everything, in Papa and the children and yourself. You have won the place which you recollect I once told you in Involage you tried to gain, of being to everybody the heart of the house. Oh, cousin Helen, don't, said Katie, her eyes filling with sudden tears. I haven't been brave. You can't think how badly I sometimes have behaved, how cross and ungrateful I am, and how stupid and slow. Every day I see things which ought to be done, and I don't do them. It's too delightful to have you praise me, but you mustn't. I don't deserve it, but although she said she didn't deserve it, I think that Katie did. End of Chapter 13. End of What Katie Did by Susan Coolidge. Recording by Kira Belkin, Highland Park, New Jersey.