 CHAPTER VII. Summer was always slow in getting to Hillsover. But at last she arrived, and woods and hills suddenly put on new colors and became beautiful. The sober village shared in the glorifying process. Vines budded on piazzas, with stereo-purpled white-washed walls. The brown elm boughs, which hung above the common, turned into trailing garlands of fresh green. Each walk revealed some change, or ended on some delightful discovery. Trilliums, dog-tooth violets, apple trees in blossom, or wild strawberries turning red. The wood flowers and mosses, even the birds and birdsongs, were new to our Western girls. Hillsover in summer was a great deal prettier than Burnett, and Katie and Clover began to enjoy school very much indeed. Toward the end of June, however, something took place which gave them quite a different feeling—something so disagreeable that I hate to tell about it. But, as it really happened, I must. It was on a Saturday morning. They had just come upstairs laughing and feeling very merry, for Clover had written a droll piece for the SSUC meeting and was telling Katie about it. When, just at the head of the stairs, they met Rose Red. She was evidently in trouble, for she looked flushed and excited, and was under escort of Miss Barnes, who marched before her with the air of policemen. As she passed the girls, Rose opened her eyes very wide and made a face expressive of dismay. What's the matter? whispered Clover. Rose only made another grimace, clawed with her fingers at Miss Barnes' back, and vanished down the entry which led to Mrs. Florence's room. They stood looking after her. Oh, dear! sighed Clover. I'm so afraid Rose isn't a scrape. They walked on toward Quaker Row. In the washroom was a knot of girls with their heads close together whispering. When they saw Katie and Clover they became silent and gazed at them curiously. What has Rose Red gone to Mrs. Florence about? asked Clover, too anxious to notice the strange manner of the girls. But at that moment she caught sight of something which so amazed her that she forgot her question. It was nothing less than her own trunk with C-E-C at the end, being carried along the entry by two men. Miss Jane followed close behind with her arms full of clothes and books. Katie's well-known scarlet pincushion topped the pile. In Miss Jane's hand were Clover's comb and brush. Why, what does this mean? gasped Clover as she and Katie darted after Miss Jane, who had turned into one of the rooms. It was number one at the head of the row—a room which no one had wanted on account of its smallness and lack of light. The window looked out on a brick wall not ten feet away. There was never a ray of sun to make it cheerful, and Mrs. Nipson had converted it into a storeroom for empty trunks. The trunks were taken away now, and the bed was strewn with Katie's and Clover's possessions. Miss Jane, what is the matter? What are you moving our things for? exclaimed the girls in great excitement. Miss Jane laid down her load of dress and looked at them sternly. You know the reason, as well as I do, she said icily. No, I don't. I haven't the least idea what you mean, cried Katie. Oh, please be careful, as Miss Jane flung a pair of boots on top of Cousin Helen's vase. You'll break it. Dear, dear, Clover, there's your cologne-bottle tipped over and all the colognes spilt. What does it mean? Is our room going to be painted or what? Your room, responded Miss Jane, is for the future to be this. Number one. Miss Benson and Miss James will take number six, and, it is to be hoped, will conduct themselves more properly than you have done. Then we have done, cried Katie, hardly believing her ears. Do not repeat my words in that rude way, said Miss Jane, tartly. Yes, then you have done. But what have we done? There is some dreadful mistake. Do tell us what you mean, Miss Jane. We have done nothing wrong so far as I know. Indeed, replied Miss Jane sarcastically, your ideas of right and wrong must be peculiar. I advise you to say no more on the subject, but be thankful that Mrs. Florence keeps you in the school at all, instead of dismissing you. Nothing but the fact that your home is at such a distance prevents her from doing so. Katie felt as if all the blood in her body were turned to fire as she heard these words, and met Miss Jane's eyes. Her old, hasty temper, which had seemed to die out during years of pain and patience, flashed into sudden life as a smouldering cold flashes when you least expect it into flame. She drew herself up to her full height, gave Miss Jane a look of scorching indignation, and, with a rapid impulse, darted out of the room and along the hall toward Mrs. Florence's door. The girl she met scattered from her path right and left. She looked so tall and moved so impetuously that she absolutely frightened them. Come in, said Mrs. Florence, in answer to her sharp, quivering knock. Katie entered. Rose was not there, and Mrs. Florence and Mrs. Nipson sat together, side by side in close consultation. Mrs. Florence, said Katie, too much excited to feel in the least afraid. Will you please tell me why our things are being changed to number one? Mrs. Florence flushed with anger. She looked Katie all over for a minute before she answered. Then she said, in a severe voice, It is done by my orders, and for good and sufficient reasons. What those reasons are, you know as well as I. No, I don't, replied Katie, as angry as Mrs. Florence. I haven't the least idea what they are, and I insist on knowing. I cannot answer questions put in such an improper manner, said Mrs. Florence with a wave of the hand which meant that Katie was to go. But Katie did not stir. I am sorry if my manner was improper, she said, trying to speak quietly. But I think I have a right to ask what this means. If we are accused of doing wrong, it is only fair to tell us what it is. Mrs. Florence only waved her hand again. But Mrs. Nipson, who had been twisting uneasily in her chair, said, Excuse me, Mrs. Florence, but perhaps it would be better— Would satisfy Miss Carr better, if you were to be explicit. It does not seem to me that Miss Carr can be in any need of explanation, replied Mrs. Florence. When a young lady writes underhand notes to gentlemen, and throws them from her window and they are discovered, she must naturally expect that persons of correct ideas will be shocked and disgusted. Your note to Mr. Abernathy Searle's Miss Carr was found by his mother while mending his pocket and was handed by her to me. After this statement, you will hardly be surprised that I do not consider it best to permit you to room longer on that side of the house. I did not suppose I had a girl in my school capable of such conduct. For a moment Katie was too much stunned to speak. She took hold of a chair to steady herself, and her colour changed so quickly from red to pale and back again to red that Mrs. Florence and Mrs. Nipson, who sat watching her, might be pardoned for thinking that she looked guilty. As soon as she recovered her voice, she stammered out, but I didn't. I never did. I haven't written any note. I wouldn't for the world. Oh, Mrs. Florence, please believe me. I prefer to believe the evidence of my eyes, replied Mrs. Florence, as she drew a paper from her pocket. Here is the note. I suppose you will hardly deny your own signature. Katie seized the note. It was written in a round, unformed hand, and ran thus. Dear Barry, I saw you last night on the green. I think you are splendid. All the nuns think so. I look at you very often out of my window. If I let down a string, would you tie a cake to it like that kind which you threw to Mary Andrew's last term? Tie two cakes, please—one for me and one for my roommate. The string will be at the end of the row. Miss Carr. In spite of her agitation, Katie could hardly keep back a smile as she read this absurd production. Mrs. Florence saw the smile, and her tone was more severe than ever as she said, Give that back to me, if you please. It will be my justification with your father if he objects to your change of room. But Mrs. Florence, cried Katie, I never wrote that note. It isn't my handwriting. It isn't my— Oh, surely you can't think so. It's too ridiculous. Go to your room at once, said Mrs. Florence, and be thankful that your punishment is such a mild one. If your home were not so distant, I should write to ask your father to remove you from the school, instead of which I merely put you on the other side of the entry, out of reach of further correspondence of this sort. But I shall write to him, and he will take us away immediately, cried Katie, stung to the quick by this obstinate injustice. I will not stay, neither shall clover where our word is disbelieved, and we are treated like this. Papa knows. Papa will never doubt us a moment when we tell him that this isn't true. With these passionate words she left the room. I do not think that either Mrs. Florence or Mrs. Nipson felt very comfortable after she was gone. That was a dreadful afternoon. The girls had no heart to arrange number one or do anything toward making it comfortable, but lay on the bed in the midst of their belongings, crying and receiving visits of condolence from their friends. The SSUC meeting was put off. Katie was in no humor to act as president, or clover to read her funny poem. Rose and Mary Silver sat by, kissing them at intervals and declaring that it was a shame, while the other members dropped him one by one to re-eco the same sentiments. If it had been anybody else, said Alice Gibbons, but Katie of all persons, it is too much. So I told Mrs. Florence, sobbed Rose Red, oh, why was I born so bad? If I'd always been good and a model to the rest of you, perhaps she'd have believed me instead of scolding harder than ever. The idea of Rose as a model made Clover smile in the midst of her dullfulness. It's an outrageous thing, said Ellen Gray. If Mrs. Florence only knew it, you two have done more to keep the rest of us steady than any girls in school. So they have, blubbered Rose, whose pretty face was quite swollen with crying, I've been getting better and better every day since they came. She put her arms round Clover as she spoke and sobbed harder than ever. It was in the midst of this excitement that Miss Jane saw fit to come in and inspect the room. When she saw the crying girls and the general confusion of everything, she was very angry. I shall mark you both for disorder, she said. Get off the bed, Miss Carr. Hang your dresses up at once, Clover, and put your shoes in the shoe-bag. I never saw anything so disgraceful. All these things must be in order when I return fifteen minutes from now, or I shall report you to Mrs. Florence. It's of no consequence what you do. We are not going to stay, muttered Katie. But soon she was ashamed of having said this. Her anger was melting and grief taking its place. Oh, Papa! Papa! Elsie! Elsie! she whispered to herself, as she slowly hung up the dresses and, unseen by the girls, she hid her face in the folds of Clover's gray alpaca and shed some hot tears. Till then she had been too angry to cry. This softer mood followed her all through the evening. Clover and Rose sat by, talking over the affair, and keeping their wrath warm with discussion. Katie said hardly a word. She felt too weary and depressed to speak. Who could have written the note, asked Clover again and again? It was impossible to guess. It seemed absurd to suspect any of the older girls, but then, as Rose suggested, the absurdity as well as the signature might have been imitated to avoid detection. I know one thing, remarked Rose, and that is that I should like to kill Mrs. Searles. Horrid old thing, peeping and prying into pockets. She has no business to be alive at all. Rose's ferocious speeches always sounded especially comical when taken in connection with her pink cheeks and her dimples. Shall you write to Papa to-night, Katie? asked Clover. Katie shook her head. She was too heavy-hearted to talk. Big tears rolled down unseen and fell upon the pillow. After Rose was gone and the candle out, she cried herself to sleep. Waking early in the dim dawn, she lay and thought it over, Clover slumbering soundly beside her meanwhile. Morning brings counsel, says the old proverb. In this case it seemed true. Katie, to her surprise, found a train of fresh thoughts filling her mind, which were not there when she fell asleep. She recalled her passionate words and feelings of the day before. Now that the mood had passed, they seemed to her worse than the injury which provoked them. Quick tempered and generous people often experienced this. It was easier for Katie to forgive Mrs. Florence, because it was needful also that she should forgive herself. I said I would write to Papa to take us away, she thought. Why did I say that? What good would it do? It wouldn't make anybody disbelieve this hateful story. They'd only think I wanted to get away because I was found out. And Papa would be so worried and disappointed. It has cost him a great deal to get us ready and send us here, and he wants us to stay a year. If we went home now, all the money would be wasted. And yet how horrid it is going to be after this! I don't feel as if I could ever bear to see Mrs. Florence again. I must write. But then her thoughts flowed on. Home wouldn't seem like home if we went away from school in disgrace, and knew that everybody here was believing such things. Suppose instead I were to write to Papa to come on and make things straight. He'd find out the truth and force Mrs. Florence to see it. It would be very expensive, though. And I know he ought to leave home again so soon. Oh, dear, how hard it is to know what to do! What would Cousin Helen say, she continued, going in imagination to the sofa-side of the dear friend who was to her like a second conscience. She shut her eyes and invented a long talk, her questions, Cousin Helen's replies. But as everybody knows, it is impossible to play croquet by yourself and be strictly impartial to all the four balls. Katie found that she was making Cousin Helen play, that is, answer, as she herself wished, and not, as something whispered, as she would answer were she really there. It is just the little scholar over again, she said half aloud. I can't see. I don't know how to act. She remembered the dream she once had, of a great, beautiful face and a helping hand. And it was real, she murmured, and just as real and just as near now is then. The result of this long meditation was that, when Clover woke up, she found Katie leaning over, ready to kiss her for good morning, and looking bright and determined. Clovy, she said, I've been thinking, and I'm not going to write to Papa about this affair at all. Aren't you? Why not? asked Clover, puzzled. Because it would worry him and be of no use. He would come on and take us right away, I'm sure, but Mrs. Florence and all the teachers and a great many of the girls would always believe that this horrid, ridiculous story is true. I can't bear to have them. Let's stay instead and convince them that it isn't. I think we can. I would a great deal rather go home, said Clover. It won't ever be nice here again. We shall have this dark room and Miss Jane will be more unkind than ever, and the girls will think that you wrote that note and Lily Page will say hateful things. She buttoned her boots with a vindictive air. Never mind, said Katie, trying to feel brave. I don't suppose it will be pleasant, but I'm pretty sure it's right, and Rosie and all the girls we really care for know how it is. I can't bear it, sighed Clover, with tears in her eyes. It is so cruel that they should say such things about you. I mean that they shall say something quite different before we go away, replied Katie, stroking her hair. Cousin Helen would tell us to stay, I'm pretty sure. I was thinking about her just now, and I seemed to hear her voice in the air saying over and over, live it down, live it down, live it down. She half sang this, and took two or three dancing steps across the room. What a girl you are, said Clover, consoled by seeing Katie look so bright. Mrs. Florence was surprised that morning as she sat in her room by the appearance of Katie. She looked pale, but perfectly quiet and gentle. Mrs. Florence, she said, I have come to say that I shall not write to my father to take us away as I told you I should. Mrs. Florence bowed stiffly by way of answer. Not, went on Katie with a little flash in her eyes, that he would hesitate or doubt my word one moment if I did. But he wished us to stay here a year, and I don't want to disappoint him. I'd rather stay. And Mrs. Florence, I'm sorry I was angry and felt that you were unjust. And today you own that I was not? Oh no, replied Katie, I can't do that. You were unjust, because neither Clover nor I wrote that note. We wouldn't do such a horrid thing for the world, and I hope that some day you will believe us. But I oughtn't to have spoken so. Katie's face and voice were so truthful as she said this, that Mrs. Florence was almost shaken in her opinion. We will say no more about the matter, she remarked, in a kinder tone. If your conduct is perfectly correct in future, it will go far to make this forgotten. Few things are more aggravating than to be forgiven, when one has done no wrong. Katie felt this as she walked away from Mrs. Florence's room. But she would not let herself grow angry again. Live it down, she whispered as she went into the schoolroom. She and Clover had a good deal to endure for the next two or three weeks. They missed their old room with its sunny window and pleasant outlook. They missed Rose, who, down at the far end of Quaker Row, could not drop in half so often as had been her custom. Miss Jane was especially grim and sharp, and some of the upstairs girls, who resented Katie's plain speaking and the formation of a society against flirting, improved the chance to be provoking. Lily Page was one of these. She didn't really believe Katie guilty, but she liked to tease her by pretending to believe it. Only to think of the president of the saintly stuck-up society being caught like this, she remarked maliciously. What are our great reformers coming to? Now, if it had been a sinner like me, no one would be surprised. All this, naturally, was vexatious. Even sunny Clover shed many tears in private over her mortifications. But the girls bore their trouble bravely, and never said one syllable about the matter in their letters home. There were consolations, too, mixed with the annoyances. Rose red clung to her two friends closely, and loyally fought their battles. The SSUC to a girl rallied round its chief. After that sad Saturday the meetings were resumed with as much spirit as ever. Katie's steadiness and uniform politeness and sweet temper impressed even those who would have been glad to believe a tale against her, and in short time the affair ceased to be a subject for discussion. It was almost forgotten, in fact, except for a sore spot in Katie's heart, and one page in Rose Red's album, upon which, under the date of that fatal day, were written these words, headed by an appalling skull and crossbones in pen and ink. Nota bene. Pay Miss Jane off. CHAPTER VIII. CHANGES Clover! Where's Clover? cried Rose Red, popping her head into the school room where Katie sat writing her composition. Oh, Katie! There you are! I want you, too. Come down to my room right away. I've such a thing to tell you. What is it? Tell me, too! said Bella Arkwright. Bella was a veritable little pitcher of the kind mentioned in the proverb, and had an insatiable curiosity to know everything that other people knew. Tell you, Miss? I should really like to know why, replied Rose, who was not a tall fond of Bella. You're real mean and real unkind, whined Bella. You think you're a great grown-up lady and can have secrets, but you ain't. You're a little girl, too. Most as little as me. So there. Rose made a face at her, and a sort of growling rush which had the effect of sending Bella screaming down the hall. Then returning to the school room, do come, Katie, she said. Find Clover and hurry. Really and truly I want you. I feel as if I should burst if I don't tell somebody right away what I found out. Katie began to be curious. She went in pursuit of Clover, who was practicing in one of the recitation rooms, and the three girls ran together down Quaker Row. Now, said Rose, locking the door and pushing forward a chair for Katie and another for Clover, swear that you won't tell, for this is a real secret, the greatest secret that ever was, and Mrs. Florence would flame me alive if she knew that I knew. She paused to enjoy the effect of her words, and suddenly began to snuff the air in a peculiar manner. Girls, she said solemnly, that little wretch of a Bella is in this room, I am sure of it. What makes you think so? cried the others, surprised. I smell that dreadful permatum she puts in her hair. Don't you notice it? She's hidden somewhere. Rose looked sharply about for a minute, then made a pounce, and from under the bed dragged a small kicking heap. It was the guilty Bella. What were you doing there, you bad child? demanded Rose seizing the kicking feet and holding them fast. I don't care, blubbered Bella. You wouldn't tell me your secret. You're a real horrid girl, Rose Red. I don't love you a bit. Your affection is not a thing which I particularly pine for, retorted Rose, seating herself, and holding the culprit before her by the ends of her short pigtails. I don't want little girls who peep and hide to love me. I'd rather they wouldn't. Now listen. Do you know what I shall do if you ever come again into my room without leave? First I shall cut off your hair, permatum and all, with my penknife. Bella screamed. And then I shall turn myself into a bear, a great brown bear, and eat you up! Rose pronounced this threat with tremendous energy and accompanied it with a snarl which showed all her teeth. Bella roared with fright, twitched away her pigtails, unlocked the door and fled, Rose not pursuing, but sitting comfortably in her chair and growling at intervals, till her victim was out of hearing. Then she rose and bolted the door again. How lucky that the imp is so fond of that smelly permatum, she remarked. One always knows where to look for her. It's as good as a bell round her neck. Now, for the secret, you promise not to tell. Well then, Mrs. Florence is going away week after next, and what's more, she's going to be married. Not really, cried the others, really and truly, she's going to be married to a clergyman. How did you find out? Why, it's the most curious thing. You know my blue lawn which Miss James is making. This morning I went to try it on, Miss Barnes with me, of course, and while Miss James was fitting the waist, Mrs. Seacom came in and sat down on the sofa by Miss Barnes. They began to talk, and pretty soon Mrs. Seacom said, What day does Mrs. Florence go? Thursday week, said Miss Barnes. She sort of mumbled it and looked to see if I were listening. I wasn't, but of course after that I did, as hard as I could. And where does the important event take place? asked Mrs. Seacom. She's so funny with her little bit of a mouth and her long words. She always looks as if each of them was a big pill and she wanted to swallow it and couldn't. In Lewisburg, at her sister's house, said Miss Barnes, she mumbled more than ever, but I heard. What a deplorable loss she will be to our limited circle, said Mrs. Seacom. I couldn't imagine what they meant. But don't you think, when I got home, there was this letter from Sylvia, and she says, Your adored Mrs. Florence is going to be married. I'm afraid you'll all break your hearts about it. Mother met the gentleman at a party the other night. She says he looks clever, but isn't at all handsome, which is a pity, for Mrs. Florence is a raving beauty, in my opinion. He's an excellent preacher we hear, and won't she manage the parish to perfection? How shall you like being left to the tender mercies of Mrs. Nipson? Now, did you ever hear anything so droll in your life, went on Rose folding up her letter? Just think of those two things coming together on the same day. It's like a sum in arithmetic with an answer which proves the sum, isn't it? Rose had counted on producing an effect, and she certainly was not disappointed. The girls could think and talk of nothing else for the remainder of that afternoon. It was a singular fact that, before two days were over, every scholar in the school knew that Mrs. Florence was going to be married. How the secret got out, nobody could guess. Rose protested that it wasn't her fault. She had been a miracle of discretion, a perfect sphinx. But there was a guilty laugh in her eyes, and Katie suspected that the sphinx had unbent a little. Nothing so exciting had ever happened at the nunnery before. Some of the older scholars were quite insoluble. They bemoaned themselves, and got together in corners to enjoy the luxury of woe. Nothing comforted them, but the project of getting up a testimonial for Mrs. Florence. What this testimonial should be caused great discussion in the school. Everybody had a different idea, and everybody was sure that her idea was better than anybody else's. All the school contributed. The money collected amounted to nearly forty dollars, and the question was, what should be bought? Every sort of thing was proposed. Lily Page insisted that nothing could possibly be so appropriate as a bouquet of wax flowers and a glass shade to put over it. There was a strong party in favour of spoons. Annie Sillsby suggested a statue, somebody else a clock. Rose Redd was for a cabinet piano, and Katie had some trouble in convincing her that forty dollars would not buy one. Bella demanded that they should get an organ. You can go along with it as a monkey, said Rose, which remark made Bella caper with indignation. At last, after long discussion and some quarrelling, a cake basket was fixed upon. Sylvia Redding happened to be making a visit in Boston, and Rose was commissioned to write and ask her to select the gift and send it up by express. The girls could hardly wait till it came. I do hope it will be pretty, don't you? They said over and over again. When the box arrived, they all gathered to see it opened. Esther Dearborn took out the nails, half a dozen hands lifted the lid, and Rose unwrapped the tissue paper and displayed the basket up to general view. Oh, what a beauty! cried everybody. It was woven of twisted silver wire. Two figures of children with wings and garlands supported the handle on either side. In the middle of the handle were a pair of silver doves, billing and cooing in the most affectionate way, over a tiny shield on which were engraved Mrs. Florence's initials. I never saw one like it. Doesn't it look heavy? cried a chorus of voices, as Rose, highly gratified, held up the basket. Who shall present it? asked Louisa Agnew. Rose, red, said some of the girls. No, indeed, I'm not tall enough, protested Rose. It must be somebody who'd kind of sweep into the room and be impressive. I vote for Katie. Oh, no! said Katie, shrinking back. I shouldn't do it at all well. Suppose we put it to a vote. Ellen Gray cut some slips of paper, and each girl wrote a name and dropped it into the box. When the votes were counted, Katie's name appeared on all but three. I propose that we make this vote unanimous, said Rose, highly delighted. The girls agreed, and Rose, jumping on a chair, exclaimed, Three cheers for Katie Carr! Keep time, girls! One, two, hip hip, hurrah! The hurrahs were given with enthusiasm for Katie, almost without knowing it, had become popular. She was too much touched and pleased to speak at first. When she did, it was to protest against her election. Esther would do it beautifully, she said, and I think Mrs. Florence would like the basket better if she gave it. You know, ever since she stopped, even now she could not refer with composure to the affair of the note. Oh, cried Louisa. She's thinking of that ridiculous note Mrs. Florence made such a fuss about, as if anybody supposed you wrote it, Katie. I don't believe even Miss Jane is such a goose as that. Anyway, if she is, that's one reason more why you should present the basket, to show that we don't think so. She gave Katie a kiss by way of period. Yes, indeed, you're chosen and you must give it, cried the others. Very well, said Katie, extremely gratified. What am I to say? We'll compose a speech for you, replied Rose. Sugar your voice, Katie, and whatever you do stand up straight. Don't crook over as if you thought you were tall. It's a bad trick you have, child, and I'm always sorry to see it. Concluded Rose with the air of a wise mama giving a lecture. It is droll how much can go on in a school unseen and unsuspected by its teachers. Mrs. Florence never dreamed that the girls had guessed her secret. Her plan was to go away as if for a visit, and leave Mrs. Nipson to explain at her leisure. She was therefore quite unprepared for the appearance of Katie, holding the beautiful basket, which was full of fresh roses, crimson, white, and pink. I am afraid the rules of the SSUC had been slightly relaxed to allow of Rose's reds getting these flowers. Certainly they grew nowhere in Hillsover except in Professor Seacum's garden. The girls wanted me to give you this, with a great deal of love from us all, said Katie, feeling strangely embarrassed and hardly venturing to raise her eyes. She set the basket on the table. We hope that you will be happy. She added in a low voice and moved toward the door. Mrs. Florence had been too much surprised to speak, but now she called— Wait! Come back a moment. Katie came back. Mrs. Florence's cheeks were flushed. She looked very handsome. Katie almost thought there were tears in her eyes. Tell the girls that I thank them very much. Their present is beautiful. I shall always value it. She blushed as she spoke, and Katie blushed too. It made her shy to see the usually composed Mrs. Florence so confused. What did she say? What did she say? Demanded the others who were collected in groups round the schoolroom door to hear a report of the interview. Katie repeated her message. Some of the girls were disappointed. Is that all? They said. We thought she would stand up and make a speech. Or a short poem, put in Rose's red, a few stanzas thrown off on the spur of the moment, like this, for instance. Thank you kindly for your basket, which I didn't mean to ask it, but I'll very gladly take it, and when tis full of cake it will frequently remind me of the girls I left behind me. There was a universal giggle which brought Miss Jane out of the schoolroom. Order! she said, ringing the bell. Young ladies, what are you about? Study hour has begun. We're so sorry Mrs. Florence is going away, said some of the girls. How did you know that she is going? Demanded Miss Jane sharply. Nobody answered. Next day Mrs. Florence left. Katie saw her go with a secret regret. If only she would have said that she didn't believe I wrote that note, she told Clover. I don't care what she believes. She's a stupid, unjust woman, replied independent little Clover. Mrs. Nipson was now in sole charge of the establishment. She had never tried schoolkeeping before, and had various pet plans and theories of her own, which she had only been waiting for Mrs. Florence's departure to put into practice. One of these was that the school was to dine three times a week on pudding and bread and butter. Mrs. Nipson had a theory, very convenient and economical for herself, but highly distasteful to our scholars, that it was injurious for young people to eat meat every day in hot weather. The puddings were made of batter, with a sprinkling of blackberries or raisins. Now, rising at six and studying four hours and a half on a light breakfast has a wonderful effect on the appetite, as all who have tried it will testify. The poor girls would go down to dinner as hungry as wolves, and eye the large, pale slices on their plates with a wrath and dismay which I cannot describe. Very thick the slices were, and there was plenty of thin, sugared sauce to eat with them, and plenty of bread and butter. But somehow, the whole was unsatisfying, and the hungry girls would go upstairs almost as ravenous as when they came down. The second table-ites were always hanging over the balusters to receive them, and when, to the demand, what did you have for dinner? Pudding, was answered. A low groan would run from one to another, and a general gloom seemed to drop down and envelop the party. It may have been in consequence of this experience of starvation, that the orders for Fourth of July were that year so unusually large. It was an old custom in the school that the girls should celebrate the national independence by buying as many goodies as they liked. There was no candy shop in Hillsover, so Mrs. Nipson took the orders, and sent to Boston for the things which were charged on the bills with other extras. Under these blissful circumstances, the girls felt that they could afford to be extravagant and made out their lists regardless of expense. Rose-reds, for this Fourth, ran thus. Two pounds of chocolate caramels, two pounds of sugar almonds, two pounds of lemon drops, two pounds of mixed candy, two pounds of macaroons, a dozen oranges, a dozen lemons, a drum of figs, a box of French plums, a loaf of almond cake. The result of this liberal order was that after the great washbasket of parcels had been distributed, and the school had rioted for twenty-four hours upon these unaccustomed luxuries, Rose was found lying on her bed, ghastly and pallid. Never speak to me of anything sweet again so long as I live, she gasped, talk of vinegar, or pickles, or sour apples, but don't allude to sugar in any form if you love me. Oh, why—why did I send for those fatal things? In time all the candy was eaten up, and the school went back to its normal condition. Three weeks later came college commencement. Our Ewan Clover craters to symposiums, demanded Lily Page meeting Katie in the hall a few days before this important event. What do you mean? Why has nobody told you about them? They are the two great college societies. All the girls belong to one or the other, and make the wreaths to dress their halls. We work up in the gymnasium. The crater girls take the east side and the symposium girls the west, and when the wreaths grow too long we hang them out the windows. It's the greatest fun in the world. Be a symposium, do. I'm one. I shall have to think about it before deciding," said Katie, privately resolving to join Rose Red Society, whichever it was. The crater had proved to be, so Katie and Clover enrolled themselves with the craters. Three days before commencement wreath-making began. The afternoons were wholly given up to the work, and instead of walking or piano practice the girls sat plating oak leaves into garlands many yards long. Baskets of fresh leaves were constantly brought in, and there was strife between the rival societies as to which should accomplish most. It was great fun, as Lily had said, to sit there amid the green boughs and pleasant leafy smells, a buzz of gay voices in the air, and a general sense of holiday. The gymnasium would have furnished many a pretty picture for an artist during those three afternoons. Only, unfortunately, no artist was led in to see it. One day Rose Red, emptying a basket, lighted upon a white parcel hidden beneath the leaves. Lemon drops, she exclaimed, applying finger and thumb with all the dexterity of Jack Horner. Here, crater girls, here's something for you. Don't you pity the symposiums? But next day a big package of peppermints appeared in the symposium basket, so neither society could boast advantage over the other. They were pretty nearly equal, too, in the quantity of wreath-mate, the craters measuring nine hundred yards and the symposiums nine hundred and two. As for the halls, which they were taken over to see the evening before commencement, it was impossible to say which was most beautifully trimmed. Each faction preferred its own, and President Searle said that both did the young ladies' credit. They all sat in the gallery of the church on commencement day and heard the speeches. It was very hot, and the speeches were not exactly interesting, being on such subjects as the influence of a republic on men of letters and the abstract law of justice as applied to human affairs. But the music and the crowd in the spectacle of six hundred ladies, all fanning themselves at once, were entertaining, and the girls would not have missed them for the world. Later in the day another diversion was afforded them by the throngs of pink and blue ladies and white-gloved gentlemen who passed the house on their way to the President's levée. But they were not allowed to enjoy this amusement long, for Miss Jane, suspecting what was going on, went from room to room and ordered everybody summarily off to bed. With the close of commencement day, a deep sleep seemed to settle over hills over. Most of the professor's families went off to enjoy themselves at the mountains or the seaside, leaving their houses shut up. This gave the village a drowsy and deserted air. There were no boys playing balls on the common, or swinging on the college fence, no look of life in the streets. The weather continued warm, the routine of study and exercise grew dull, and teachers and scholars alike were glad when the middle of September arrived, and with it the opening of autumn vacation. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Of What Katie Did At School This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, read by Karen Savage, Waco, Texas, May 2007. What Katie Did At School By Susan Coolidge Chapter 9 The Autumn Vacation The last day of the term was one of confusion. Every part of the house was given over to trunks and packing. Mrs. Nipson sat at her desk making out bills and listening to requests about rooms and roommates. Miss Jane counted books and atlases, taking note of each ink spot in dog-eared page. The girls ran about, searching for missing articles, deciding what to take home and what to leave, engaging each other for the winter walks. All rules were laid aside. The sober nunnery seemed turned into a hive of buzzing bees. Bella slid twice down the baluster from the front stairs without being reproved, and rose red through her arm around Katie's waist and waltz, the whole length of Quaker Row. I am so happy that I should like to scream, she announced as their last world brought them up against the wall. Isn't vacation just lovely? Katie, you don't look half glad. We're not going home, you know," replied Katie in a rather doleful tone. She and Clover were not so enraptured at the coming of vacation as the rest of the girls. Spending a month with Mrs. Page and Lily was by no means the same thing as spending it with Papa and the children. Next morning, however, when the big stage drove up and the girls crowded in, when Mrs. Nipson stood in the doorway, blandly waving farewell, and the maids flourished their dusters out of the upper windows, they found themselves sharing the general excitement and joining heartily in the cheer which arose as the stage moved away. The girls felt so happy and good-natured that some of them even kissed their hands to Miss Jane. Such a wild company is not often met with on a railroad train. They all went together as far as the junction, and Mr. Gray, Ellen's father, who had been put in charge of the party by Mrs. Nipson, had his hands full to keep them in any sort of order. He was a timid old gentleman, and, as Rose suggested, his expression resembled that of a sedate hen who suddenly finds herself responsible for the conduct of a brood of ducklings. My dear, my dear! he feebly remonstrated. Would you buy any more candy? Do you not think so many peanuts may be bad for you? Oh no, sir! replied Rose. They never hurt me a bit. I can eat thousands. Then as a stout lady entered the car and made a motion toward the vacant seat beside her, she rolled her eyes wildly and said, Excuse me, but perhaps I had better take the end seat so as to get out easily in case I have a fit. Fits! cried the stout lady, and walked away with the utmost dispatch. Rose gave a wicked chuckle. The girls tittered, and Mr. Gray visibly trembled. Is she really affected in this way? he whispered. Oh no, Papa! It's only Rose's nonsense! apologized Ellen, who was laughing as hard as the rest. But Mr. Gray did not feel comfortable, and he was very glad when they reached the junction and half of his troublesome charge departed on the branch road. At six o'clock they arrived in Springfield. Half a dozen Papas were waiting for their daughters. Trains stood ready. There was a clamour of goodbyes. Mr. Pate was absorbed by Lily, who kissed him incessantly and chattered so fast that he had no eyes for anyone else. Louisa was born away by an uncle, with whom she was to pass the night, and Katie and Clover found themselves left alone. They did not like to interrupt Lily, so they retreated to a bench and sat down feeling rather left out and homesick. And though they did not say so, I am sure that each was thinking about Papa. It was only for a moment. Mr. Page spied them and came up with such a kind greeting that the forlorn feeling flooded once. They were to pass the night at the Massasoit, it seemed, and he collected their bags and led the way across the street to the hotel, where rooms were already engaged for them. Now for waffles! whispered Lily as they went upstairs. And when, after a few minutes of washing and brushing, they came down again into the dining room, she called for so many things, and announced herself starved in such a tragical tone that two amused waiters at once flew to the rescue and devoted themselves to supplying her once. Waffle after waffle, each hotter and crisper than the last, did those long-suffering men produce till even Lily's appetite gave out, and she was forced to own that she could not swallow another morsel. This climax reached. They went into the parlor, and the girl sat down in the window to watch the people in the street, which, after quiet hills over, looked as brilliant and crowded as Broadway. There were not many persons in the parlor. A grave-looking couple sat at a table at some distance, and a pretty little boy in a velvet jacket was playing around the room. He seemed about five years old, and Katie, who was fond of children, put out her hand as he went by, caught him, and lifted him into her lap. He did not seem shy, but looked her in the face composedly, like a grown person. What is your name, dear? she asked. Daniel D'Obigny Sparks answered the little boy. His voice was prim and distinct. Do you live at this hotel? Yes, ma'am. I reside here with my father and my mother. And what do you do all day? Are there some other little boys for you to play with? I do not wish to play with any little boys, replied Daniel D'Obigny in a dignified tone. I prefer to be with my parents. Today we have taken a walk. We went to see a beautiful conservatory outside the city. There is a Victoria Regia there. I had often heard of this wonderful lily, and in the last number of the London Musée there is a picture of it, represented with a small negro child standing upon one of its leaves. My father said that he did not think this is possible, but when we saw the plant we perceived that the print was not an exaggeration, such is the size of the leaf that a small negro child might very easily be supported upon it. Oh, my! cried Katie, feeling as if she had accidentally picked up an elderly gentleman or a college professor. Pray, how old are you? Nearly nine, ma'am, replied the little fellow with a bow. Katie, too much appalled for further speech, let him slide off her lap. But Mr. Page, who was much diverted, continued the conversation, and Daniel, mounting a chair, crossed his short legs and discoursed with all the gravity of an old man. The talk was principally about himself, his tastes, his adventures, his ideas about art and science. Now and then he alluded to his papa and mama and once to his grandfather. My maternal grandfather, he said, was a remarkable man. In his youth he spent a great deal of time in France. He was there at the time of the French Revolution, and, as it happened, was present at the execution of the unfortunate Queen Marie Antoinette. This, of course, was not intentional. It chanced thus. My grandfather was in a barbershop, having his hair cut. He saw a great crowd going by and went out to ask what was the cause. The crowd was so immense that he could not extricate himself. He was carried along against his will, and not only so, but was forced to the front and compelled to witness every part of the dreadful scene. He has often told my mother that, after the execution, the executioner held up the Queen's head to the people. The eyes were open, and there was in them an expression not of pain, not of fear, but of great astonishment and surprise. This anecdote carried great astonishment and surprise into the company who listened to it. Mr. Page gave a sort of chuckle and saying, By George! got up and left the room. The girls put their heads out of the window that they might laugh unseen. Daniel gazed at their shaking shoulders with an air of wonder, while the grave couple at the end of the room, who, for some moments, had been looking disturbed, drew near and informed the youthful prodigy that it was time for him to go to bed. Good night, young ladies! said the small, condescending voice. Katie alone had presence of countenance enough to return this salutation. It was a relief to find that Daniel went to bed at all. Next morning at breakfast they saw him seated between his parents, eating bread and milk. He bowed to them over the edge of the bowl. Dreadful little prig! They should bottle him in spirits of wine as a specimen. It's the only thing he'll ever be fit for, remarked Mr. Page, who rarely said so sharper thing about anybody. Louisa joined them at the station. She was to travel under Mr. Page's care, and Katie was much annoyed at Lily's manner with her. It grew colder and less polite with every mile. By the time they reached Ashburn it was absolutely rude. Come and see me very soon, girls! said Louisa as they parted in the station. I long to have you know Mother and Little Daisy. Oh! there's Papa! And she rushed up to a tall, pleasant-looking man who kissed her fondly, shook hands with Mr. Page, and touched his hat to Lily, who scarcely bowed in return. Boarding school is so horrid, she remarked, you get all mixed up with people you don't want to know, people not in society at all. How can you talk such nonsense? said her father. The Agnews are thoroughly respectable, and Mr. Agnew is one of the cleverest men I know. Katie was pleased when Mr. Page said this, but Lily shrugged her shoulders and looked cross. Papa is so democratic, she whispered to Clover. He don't care a bit who people are, so long as they are respectable and clever. Well, why should he? replied Clover. Lily was more disgusted than ever. Ashburn was a large and prosperous town. It was built on the slopes of a picturesque hill, and shaded with fine elms. As they drove through the streets, Katie and Clover caught glimpses of conservatories and shrubberies, and beautiful houses with bay windows and piazzas. That's ours, said Lily, as the carriage turned in at a gate. It stopped, and Mr. Page jumped out. Here we are, he said. Gently, Lily, you'll hurt yourself. Well, my dears, we're very glad to see you in our home at last. This was kind and comfortable, and the girls were glad of it, for the size and splendour of the house quite dazzled and made them shy. They had never seen anything like it before. The hall had a marble floor and busts and statues. Large rooms opened on either side. This is the drawing-room, said Lily, delighted to see the girls looking so impressed. Isn't it splendid? And she led the way into a stiff, chilly, magnificent apartment, where all the blinds were closed, and all the shades pulled down, and all the furniture shrouded in linen covers. Even the picture frames and mirrors were sewn up in muslin to keep off flies. And the bronzes and alabaster ornaments on the chimney-piece, and étagère, gleamed through the dim light in a ghostly way. Katie thought it very dismal. She couldn't imagine anybody sitting down there to read or so or do anything pleasant, and probably it was not intended that anyone should do so, for Mrs. Page soon showed them out and led the way into a smaller room at the back of the hall. Well, Katie, she said, how do you like hills over? Very well, ma'am," replied Katie, but she did not speak enthusiastically. Ah, said Mrs. Page, shaking her head, it takes time to shake off home habits and to learn to get along with young people after living with older ones and catching their ways. You'll like it better as you go on. Katie privately doubted whether this was true, but she did not say so. Pretty soon Lily offered to show them upstairs to their room. She took them first into three large and elegant chambers which she explained were kept for grand company, and then into a much smaller one in a wing. Mother always puts my friends in here, she remarked. She says it's plenty good enough for schoolgirls to thrash about in. What does she mean? cried Clover indignantly as Lily closed the door. We don't thrash. I can't imagine," answered Katie, who was vexed too. But pretty soon she began to laugh. People are so funny, she said. Never mind, Clovie, this room is good enough, I'm sure. Must we unpack, or will it do to go down in our alpacas? asked Clover. I don't know, replied Katie in a doubtful tone. Perhaps we had better change our gowns. Cousin Olivia always dresses so much. Here's your blue muslin right on top of the trunk. You might put on that, and I'll wear my purple. The girls were glad they had done this, for it was evidently expected, and Lily had dressed her hair and donned a fresh white peak. Mrs. Page examined their dresses and said that Clover's was a lovely blue, but that Ruffles were quite gone out, and everything must be made with basks. She supposed they needed quantities of things, and she had already engaged a dressmaker to work for them. Thank you, said Katie. But I don't think we need anything. We had our winter dresses made before we left home. Winter dresses? Last spring? My dear, what were you thinking of? They must be completely out of fashion. You can't think how little Hillsover people know about fashions, replied Katie, laughing. But my dear, for your own sake, exclaimed Mrs. Page, distressed by these lax remarks. I'll look over your things tomorrow and see what you need. Katie did not dare to say no, but she felt rebellious. When they were half through tea the door opened and the boy came in. You are late, Clarence," said Mr. Page, while Mrs. Page groaned and observed. Clarence makes a point of being late. He really deserves to be made to go without his supper. Shut the door, Clarence. Oh, mercy! Don't bang it in that way. I wish you would learn to shut a door properly. Here are your cousins, Katie and Clover Carr. Now let me see if you can shake hands with them like a gentleman and not like a plow-boy. Clarence, a square, freckled boy of thirteen, with reddish hair and a sort of red sparkle in his eyes, looked very angry at this address. He did not offer to shake hands at all, but elevating his shoulder said, How do you do? in a sulky voice, and sitting down at the table buried his nose without delay in a glass of milk. His mother gave a disgusted sigh. What a boy you are, she said. Your cousins will think that you have never been taught anything, which is not the case, for I'm sure I've taken twice the pains with you that I have with Lily. Pray excuse him, Katie. It's no use trying to make boys polite. Isn't it? said Katie, thinking of Phil and Dory, and wondering what Mrs. Page could mean. Hello, Lily. Broken Clarence spying his sister as it seemed for the first time. How do you do? said Lily carelessly. I was wondering how long it would be before you would condescend to notice my existence. I didn't see you. I know you didn't. I never knew such a boy. You might as well have no eyes at all. Clarence scowled and went on with his supper. His mother seemed unable to let him alone. Clarence, don't take such large mouthfuls. Clarence, pray use your napkin. Clarence, your elbows are on the table, sir. Now Clarence, don't try to speak until you have swallowed all that bread, came every other moment. Katie felt very sorry for Clarence. His manners were certainly bad, but it seemed quite dreadful that public attention should be thus constantly called to them. The evening was rather dull. There was a sort of put-in-order-for-company-air about the parlor which made everybody stiff. Mrs. Page did not sow or read, but sat in a low chair looking like a lady in a fashion plate, and asked questions about Hillsover, some of which were not easy to answer, as, for example, have you any other intimate friends among the school girls besides Lily? About eight o'clock a couple of young, very young gentlemen came in, at the sight of whom Lily, who was half asleep, brightened and became lively and talkative. One of them was the Mr. Hickman, whose father married Mr. Page's sister-in-law's sister, thus making him in some mysterious way a first cousin of Lily's. He was an Aromouth student, and seemed to have so many jokes to laugh over with Lily that before long they conversed in whispers. The other youth, introduced as Mr. Eels, was left to entertain the other three ladies, which duty he performed by sucking the head of his cane in silence while they talked to him. He, too, was an Aromouth sophomore. In the midst of the conversation the door, which stood ajar, opened a little wider, and a dog's head appeared, followed by a tail, which waggled so beseechingly for leave to come farther that Clover, who liked dogs, put out her hand at once. He was not pretty, being of a pepper and salt color, with a blunt nose and no particular sort of a tail, but he looked good-natured, and Clover fondled him cordially, while Mr. Eels took his cane out of his mouth to ask, What kind of a dog is that, Mrs. Page? I'm sure I don't know, she replied, while Lily from the distance added effectively, Oh, he's the most dreadful dog, Mr. Eels. My brother picked him up in the street, and none of us know the least thing about him, except that he is the commonest kind of dog—a sort of cur, I believe. That's not true, broken a stern voice from the hall, which made everybody jump, and Katie, looking that way, was aware of a vengeful eye glaring at Lily through the crack of the door. He's a very valuable dog indeed, half mastiff and half terrier, with a touch of the bulldog. So there, miss. The effect of this remark was startling. Lily gave a scream, Mrs. Page rose and hurried to the door, while the dog, hearing his master's voice, rushed that way also, got before her, and almost threw her down. Katie and Clover could not help laughing, and Mr. Eels, meeting their amused eyes, removed the cane from his mouth, and grew conversable. That Clarence is a droll chap, he remarked confidentially. Bright, too. He'd be a nice fellow if he wasn't picked at so much. It never does a fellow any good to be picked at. Now does it, Miss Carr. No, I don't think it does. I say, continued Mr. Eels. I've seen you young ladies up at Hillsover, haven't I? Aren't you both with the nunnery? Yes, it's vacation now, you know. I was sure I'd seen you. You had a room on the side next to the Presidents, didn't you? I thought so. We fellows didn't know your names, so we called you the real nuns. Real nuns? Yes, because you never looked out of the window at us. Real nuns and sham nuns, don't you see? Almost all the young ladies are sham nuns, except you. And two pretty little ones in the story above—fifth window from the end. Oh, I know! said Clover, much amused. Sally Alsop, you know Katie, and Amy Erskine. They're such nice girls. Are they? replied Mr. Eels, with the air of one who notes down names for future reference. Well, I thought so. Not so much fun in them as some of the others, I guess, but a fellow likes other things as well as fun. I know if my sister was there I'd rather have her take the dull line than the other. Katie treasured up this remark for the benefit of the SSUC. Mrs. Page came back just then, and Mr. Eels resumed his cane. Nothing more was heard of Clarence that night. Next morning, Cousin Olivia fulfilled her threat of inspecting the girl's wardrobe. She shook her head over the simple, untrimmed marinos and thick cloth coats. There's no help for it, she said, but it's a great pity. You would much better have waited, and had things fresh. Perhaps it may be possible to match the marino and have some sort of Basque arrangement added on. I will talk to Madame Chaunfleur about it. Meantime I shall get one handsome thick dress for each of you, and have it stylishly made. That, at least, you really need. Katie was too glad to be so easily let off to raise objections. So that afternoon she and Clover were taken out to choose their material, Mrs. Page said, but really to sit by while she chose it for them. At the dress-makers it was the same. They stood passive while the orders were given, and everything decided upon. Isn't it funny, whispered Clover? But I don't like it a bit, do you? It's just like Elsie saying how she'll have her dolls' things made. Oh, this dress isn't mine. It's Cousin Olivia's, replied Katie. She's welcome to have it trimmed just as she likes. But when the suits came home she was forced to be pleased. There was no over-trimming, no look of finery, everything fitted perfectly, and had the air of finish which she had noticed and admired in Lily's clothes. Katie almost forgot that she had objected to the dresses as unnecessary. After all, it is nice to look nice, she confessed to Clover. Accepting going to the dress-makers, there was not much to amuse the girls during the first half of vacation. Mrs. Page took them to drive now and then, and Katie found some pleasant books in the library and read a good deal. Clover, meantime, made friends with Clarence. I think his heart was won that first evening by her attentions to guest the dog, that mysterious composite, half-mastiff and half-terrier with a touch of the bulldog. Clarence loved guest dearly, and was gratified that Clover liked him, for the poor animal had few friends in the household. In a little while Clarence became quite sociable with her, and tolerably so with Katie. They found him, as Mr. Eel said, a bright fellow, and pleasant and good-humored enough when taken in the right way. Lily always seemed to take him wrong, and his treatment of her was most disagreeable, snappish and quarrelsome to the last degree. Much you don't like oranges, he said one day at dinner in answer to an innocent remark of hers, much! I've seen you eat two at a time without stopping. Pa! Lily says she don't like oranges. I've seen her eat two at a time without stopping. Much she doesn't. I've seen her eat two at a time without stopping. He kept this up for five minutes, looking from one person to another, and repeating, much she don't, much! Till Lily was almost crying from vexation, and even Clover longed to box his ears. Nobody was sorry when Mr. Page ordered him to leave the room, which he did with a last vindictive much! addressed to Lily. How can Clarence behave so? said Katie when she and Clover were alone. I don't know, replied Clover. He's such a nice boy sometimes, but when he isn't nice, he's the horridest boy I ever saw. I wish you'd talk to him, Katie, and tell him how dreadfully it sounds when he says such things. No indeed. He'd take it much better from you. You're nearer his age and could do it nicely and pleasantly, and not make him feel as if he were being scolded. Poor fellow, he gets plenty of that. Clover said no more about the subject, but she meditated. She had a good deal of tact for so young a girl, and took care to get Clarence into a specially amiable mood before she began her lecture. Look here, you bad boy! How could you tease poor Lily so yesterday? Guest, speak up, sir, and tell your massa how naughty it was. Oh, dear, now you're going to nag, growled Clarence in an injured voice. No, I'm not, not the least in the world, I'll promise not to, but just tell me, and Clover put her hand on the rough red-brown hair and stroked it, just tell me why you go for to do such things. They're not a bit nice. Lily's so hateful, grumbled Clarence. Well, she is sometimes, I know, admitted Clover candidly, but because she is hateful is no reason why you should be unmanly. Unmanly? cried Clarence, flushing. Yes, I call it unmanly to tease and quarrel and contradict like that. It's like girls, they do it sometimes, but I didn't think a boy would. I thought he'd be ashamed. Doesn't Dory ever quarrel or tease? asked Clarence, who liked to hear about Clover's brothers and sisters. Not now, and never in that way. He used to sometimes when he was little, but now he's real nice. He wouldn't speak to a girl as you speak to Lily for anything in the world. He'd think it wasn't being a gentleman. Stuff about gentlemen and all that, retorted Clarence. Mother dings the word in my ears till I hate it. Well, it is rather teasing to be reminded all the time, I admit. But you can't wonder what that your mother wants you to be a gentleman, Clarence. It's the best thing in the world, I think. I hope Phil and Dory will grow up just like Papa, for everybody says he's the most perfect gentleman, and it makes me so proud to hear them. But what does it mean, anyway? Mother says it's how you hold your fork and how you chew and how you put on your hat. If that's all, I don't think it amounts to much. Oh, that isn't all. It's being gentle, don't you see? Gentle and nice to everybody, and just as polite to poor people as to rich ones, said Clover, talking fast in her eagerness to explain her meaning, and never being selfish or noisy or pushing people out of their place. Forks and hats and all that are only little ways of making oneself more agreeable to other people. A gentleman is a gentleman inside, all through. Oh, I wish I could make you see what I mean. Oh, that's it, is it? said Clarence. Whether he understood or not, Clover could not tell, or whether she had done any good or not. But she had the discretion to say no more, and certainly Clarence was not offended, for after that day he grew fonder of her than ever. Lily became absolutely jealous. She had never cared particularly for Clarence's affection, but she did not like to have anyone preferred above herself. It's pretty hard, I think, she told Clover. Clare does everything you tell him, and he treats me awfully. It isn't a bit fair. I'm his sister, and you're only a second cousin." All this time the girls had seen almost nothing of Louisa Agnew. She called once, but Lily received the call with them, and so cool and stiff that Louisa grew stiff also, and made but a short stay. And when the girls returned the visit she was out. A few days before the close of vacation, however, a note came from her. Dear Katie, I am so sorry not to have seen more of you and Clover. Won't you come and spend Wednesday with us? Mama sends her love, and hopes you will come early so as to have a long day, for she wants to know you. I long to show you the baby and everything. Do come. Papa will see you home in the evening. Remember me to Lily. She has so many friends to see during vacation that I am sure she will forgive me for stealing you for one day. Yours affectionately, Louisa. Katie thought this message very politely expressed, but Lily, when she heard it, tossed her head and said she really thought Miss Agnew might let her name alone when she wrote notes. Mrs. Page seemed to pity the girls for having to go. They must, she supposed, as it was a schoolmate, but she feared it would be stupid for them. The Agnews were queer sort of people, not in society at all. Mr. Agnew was clever, people said, but really she knew very little about the family. Perhaps it would not do to decline. Katie and Clover had no idea of declining. They sent a warm little note of acceptance, and on the appointed day set off bright and early with a good deal of pleasant anticipation. The vacation had been rather dull at Cousin Olivia's. Lily was a good deal with her own friends and Mrs. Page with hers, and there never seemed any special place where they might sit, or anything in particular for them to do. Louisa's home was at some distance from Mr. Page's, and in a less fashionable street. It looked pleasant and cozy as the girls opened the gate. There was a small garden in the front with gay flower beds, and on the piazza, which was shaded with vines, sat Mrs. Agnew with a little work-table by her side. She was a pretty and youthful-looking woman, and her voice and smile made them feel at home immediately. There is no need of anybody to introduce you, she said. Lulu has described you so often that I know perfectly well which is Katie and which is Clover. I am so glad you could come. Won't you go right in my bedroom by that long window and take off your things? Lulu has explained to you that I am lame and never walk, so you won't think it's strange that I do not show you the way. She will be here in a moment. She ran upstairs to fetch the baby. The girls went into the bedroom. It was a pretty and unusual-looking apartment. The furniture was simple as could be, but bed and toilet and windows were curtained and frilled with white, and the walls were covered thick with pictures, photographs and pen and ink sketches, and watercolor drawings, unframed most of them, and just pinned up without regularity so as to give each the best possible light. It was an odd way of arranging pictures, but Katie liked it, and would gladly have lingered to look at each one, only that she feared Mrs. Agnew would expect them and would think it's strange that they did not come back. Just as they went out again to the piazza, Louisa came running downstairs with her little sister in her arms. I was curling her hair, she explained, and did not hear you come in. Daisy, give Katie a kiss. Now another for Clover. Isn't she a darling, embracing the child rapturously herself? Now isn't she a little beauty? Perfectly, lovely!" cried the others, and soon all three were seated on the floor of the piazza, with Daisy in the midst, passing her from hand to hand as if she had been something good to eat. She was used to it and submitted with perfect good nature to being kissed, trotted, carried up and down, and generally made love to. Mrs. Agnew sat by and laughed at the spectacle. When baby was taken off for her noonday nap, Louisa took the girls into the parlor, another odd and pretty room, full of prints and sketches and pictures of all sorts, some with frames, others with a knot of autumn leaves or a twist of ivy around them by the way of a finish. There was a bowl of beautiful autumn roses on the table, and though the price of one of Mrs. Page's damaskirtons would probably have bought the whole furniture of the room, everything was so bright and home-like and pleasant-looking that Katie's heart warmed at the sight. They were examining a portrait of Louisa with Daisy in her lap, painted by her father, when Mr. Agnew came in. The girls liked his face at once. It was fine and frank, and nothing could be prettier than to see him pick up as sweet, invalid wife as if she had been a child, and carry her into the dining-room to her place at the head of the table. Katie and Clover agreed afterward that it was the merriest dinner they had had since they left home. Mr. Agnew told stories about painters and painting and was delightful. No less so was the nice gossip upstairs in Louisa's room which followed dinner, or the afternoon frolic with Daisy, or the long evening spent in looking over books and photographs. All together the day seemed only too short. As they went out of the gate at ten o'clock, Mr. Agnew following, low a dark figure emerged from behind a tree and joined Clover. It was Clarence. I thought I'd just walk this way, he explained. The house has been dreadfully dull all day without you. Clover was immensely flattered, but Mrs. Page's astonishment next day knew no bounds. Really, she said, I have hopes of Clarence at last. I never knew him volunteer to escort anybody anywhere before in his life. I say, said Clarence, the evening before the girls went back to school, I say, suppose you write to a fellow, Simon Times Clover? Do you mean yourself by a fellow, laughed Clover? You don't suppose I meant George Hickman or that donkey of an eels, did you? retorted Clarence. No, I didn't. Well, I have no objection to writing to a fellow if that fellow is you, provided the fellow answers my letters. Will you? Yes, gruffly, but you mustn't show him to any girls or laugh at my writing or I'll stop. Lily says my writing is like Beetle-tracks. Little she knows about it, though. I don't write to her. Promise, Clover? Yes, I promise," said Clover, pleased at the notion of Clarence proposing a correspondence of his own accord. Next morning they all left for Hillsover. Clarence's friendship and the remembrance of their day with the Agnews were the pleasantest things that the girls carried away with them from their autumn vacation. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of what Katie did at school This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, read by Karen Savage, Waco, Texas, May 2007 What Katie did at school By Susan Coolidge Chapter 10 A Budget of Letters Hillsover, October 21st Dear Stelsy, I didn't write you last Saturday because that was the day we came back to school and there hasn't been one minute since when I could. We thought perhaps Miss Jane would let us off from the abstracts on Sunday because it was the first day and school was hardly begun, and if she had I was going to write to you instead, but she didn't. She said the only way to keep girls out of mischief was to keep them busy. Rose read assure that something has gone wrong with Miss Jane's missionary during the vacation. She's so dreadfully cross. Oh, dear! How I do hate to come back and be scolded by her again! I forget if I told you about the abstracts. They're of the sermons on Sunday, you know, and we have to give the texts and the heads and as much as we can remember of the rest. Sometimes Dr. Prince begins, I shall divide my subject into three parts and tell us what they are going to be. When he does that most of the girls take out their pencils and put them down, and then they don't listen any more. Katie and I don't, for she says it isn't right not to listen some. Miss Jane pretends that she reads all the abstracts through, but she doesn't. For once Rose read, just to try her, wrote in the middle of hers, I am sitting by my window at this moment and a red cow is going down the street. I wonder if she has any relation to Mrs. Seacum's cow, and Miss Jane never noticed it, but marked her perfect all the same. Wasn't it funny? But I must tell you about our journey back. Mr. Page came all the way with us and was ever so nice. Clarence rode down in the carriage to the depot. He gave me a real pretty India rubber and gold pencil for a goodbye present. I think you and Dory would like Clarence, only just at first you might say he was rather rude and cross. I did, but now I like him ever so much. Cousin Olivia gave Katie a worked collar and sleeves, and me an embroidered pocket handkerchief with clover-leaves in the corner. Wasn't it kind? I'm sorry I said in my last letter that we didn't enjoy our vacation. We didn't much, but it wasn't exactly Cousin Olivia's fault. She meant we should, but she didn't know how. Some people don't, you know, and don't tell anyone I said so, will you? Rose Red got here in the train before we did. She was so glad when we came that she cried. It was because she was homesick waiting four hours at the nunnery without it, she said. Rose is such a darling. She had a splendid vacation and went to three parties in a picnic. Isn't it queer? Her winter bonnet is black velvet trimmed with pink, and so is mine. I wanted blue at first, but Cousin Olivia said pink was more stylish, and now I am glad, because I like to be like Rose. Katie and I have got number two this term. It's a good deal pleasanter than our old room, and the entry stove is just outside the door, so we shall keep warm. There is sun, too—only Mrs. Nipson has nailed thick cotton over all the window, except a little place at the top. Every window in the house is just so. You can't think how mad the girls are about it. The first night we had an indignation meeting, and passed resolutions, and some of the girls said they wouldn't stay. They should write to their fathers to come and take them home. None of them did, though. It's perfectly forlorn not being able to look out. Oh, dear! How I wish it were spring! We've got a new dining-room. It's a great deal bigger than the old one, so now we all eat together, and don't have any first and second tables. It's ever so much nicer, for I used to get so dreadfully hungry waiting that I didn't know what to do. One thing is horrid, though, and that is that every girl has to make a remark in French every day at dinner. The remarks are about a subject. Mrs. Nipson gives out the subjects. Today the subject was l'évoiseau, and Rose Redd said j'aime beaucoup l'évoiseau et surtout ceux qui sont rotis, which made us all laugh. That ridiculous little Bella Arkwright said j'aime beaucoup l'évoiseau qui singe. She thought singe was French. Every girl in school began j'aime beaucoup l'évoiseau. Tomorrow the subject is Jules César. I'm sure I don't know what to say. There isn't a word in Allendorf about him. There aren't so many new scholars this term as there were last. The girls think it is because Mrs. Nipson isn't so popular as Mrs. Florence used to be. Two or three of the new ones look pleasant, but I don't know them yet. Louisa Agnew is the nicest girl here next to Rose. Lily Page says she is vulgar because her father paints portraits and they don't know the same people that Cousin Olivia knows. But she isn't a bit. We went to spend the day there just before we left Ashburn, and her father and mother were splendid. Their house is just full of all sorts of queer, interesting things and pictures, and Mr. Agnew told us ever so many stories about painters and what they did. One was about a boy who used to make figures of lions and butter, and afterward he became famous. I forget his name. We had a lovely time. I wish you could see Lou's little sister Daisy. She's only two and a perfect little beauty. She's got ten teeth and hardly ever cries. Please ask Papa—Justice Clover had got to this point. She was interrupted by Katie, who walked in with her hat on, and a whole handful of letters. See here, she cried, isn't this delightful? Miss Marsh took me with her to the post-office and we found these. Three for you and two for me and one for Rose. Wait a minute till I give Rose hers, and we'll read them together. In another moment the two were cosily seated with their heads close together, opening their budget. First came one from Papa. My dearest daughters, it's for you too, you see, said Katie. Last week came your letter of the thirty-first, and we were glad to hear that you were well and ready to go back to school. By the time this reaches you you will be in hills over, and your winter term begun. Make the most of it, for we all feel as if we could never let you go from home again. Johnny says she shall rub spaldings-prepared glue all over your dresses when you come back so that you cannot stir. I am a little of the same way of thinking myself. Cece has returned from boarding school and set up as a young lady. Elsie is much excited over the party-dresses which Mrs. Hall is having made for her, and goes over every day to see if anything new has come. I am glad on this account that you were away just now, for it would not be easy to keep steady heads and continue your studies with so much going on next door. I have sent Cousin Olivia a check to pay for the things she bought for you, and am much obliged to her for seeing that you were properly fitted out. Katie was very right to consider expense, but I wish you to have all things needful. I enclosed two ten-dollar bills, one for each of you, for pocket money, and with much love from the children am, yours affectionately, P. Carr. P. S. Cousin Helen has had a sharp attack, but is better. I wish Papa would write longer letters, said Katie. He always sends us money, but he don't send half enough words with it. She folded the letter and fondled it affectionately. He's always so busy, replied Clover. Don't you remember how he used to sit down at his desk and scribble off his letters and how somebody was always sure to ring the bell before he got through? I'm very glad to have some money, for now I can pay the sixty-two cents I owe you. It's my turn to read. This is from Elsie and a real long one. Put away the bills first, Katie, or they'll be lost. That's right. Now we'll begin together. Dear Clover. You don't know how glad I am when my turn comes to get a letter all to myself. Of course I read Papas and all the rest you write to the family, but it never seems as if you were talking to me unless you begin, Dear Elsie. I wish some time you'd put in a little note marked, Private, just for me, which nobody else needs see. It would be such fun. Please do. I should think you would have hated staying at Cousin Olivia's. When I read what she said about your travelling dresses looking as if they had come out of the Ark I was too mad for anything. But I shouldn't think you'd want much to go back to school, either, though sometimes it must be splendid. John has named her old stockinette dull which she used to call scratch-face nippy after Mrs. Nipson, and I made her a muslin cap and Dory drew a pair of black spectacles round her eyes. She's a perfect fright and John plays all the time that dreadful things happen to her. She pricks her with pins and pretends she has the earache and lets her tumble down and hurt herself till sometimes I nearly feel sorry, though it is all make-believe. When you wrote us about only having pudding for dinner I didn't a bit. John put her into the rag-closet that very day and has been starving her to death ever since, and Phil says it serves her right. You can't think how awfully lonely I sometimes get without you. If it wasn't for Helen Gibbs, that new girl I told you about, I shouldn't know what to do. She's the prettiest girl in Miss McCrane's school. Her hair curls just like mine, only it is four times as long and a million times as thick, and her waist is really and truly not much bigger around than a bed-post. We're the greatest friends. She says she loves me just exactly as much as if I was her sister, but she never had any real sisters. She was quite mad the other day because I said I couldn't love her quite so well as you and Katie, and at all recess times she wouldn't speak to me, but now we've made up. Dory is so awfully in love with her that I can never get him to come into the room when she is here and he blushes when we tease him about her. But this is a great secret. Dory and I play chess every evening. He almost always beats unless Papa comes behind and helps me. Phil has learned, too, because he always wants to do everything that we do. Dory gives him a castle and a bishop and a knight and four pawns and then beats him in six moves. Phil gets so mad that we can't help laughing. Last night he buttoned his king up inside his jacket and said, There, you can't check, make me now anyway. Cece has come home. She is a young lady now. She does her hair up quite different and wears long dresses. This winter she is going to parties and Mrs. Hall is going to have a party for her on Thursday with real grown-up young ladies and gentlemen at it. Cece has got some beautiful new dresses, a white muslin, a blue charlatan, and a pink silk. The pink silk is the prettiest, I think. Cece is real kind and lets me see all her things. She has got a lovely breast-pin, too, and a new fan with ivory sticks and all sorts of things. I wish I was grown up. It must be so nice. I was to tell you something, only you mustn't tell anybody except Katie. Don't you remember how Cece used to say that she never was going out to drive with young gentlemen but was going to stay at home and read the Bible to poor people? Well, she didn't tell the truth, for she has been out three times already with Sylvester Slack in his buggy. When I told her she oughtn't to do so because it was breaking a promise, she only laughed and said I was a silly little girl. Isn't it queer? I went to tell you what an awful thing I did the other night. Maria Avery invited me to tea and Papa said I might go. I didn't want too much, but I didn't know what to tell Maria, so I went. You know how poor they are and how aunties he used to say that they were touchy, so I thought I would take great care not to hurry home right after tea for fear they would think I wasn't having a good time. So I waited and waited and waited and got so sleepy that I had to pinch my fingers to keep awake. At last I was sure that it must be almost nine, so I asked Mr. Avery if he'd please take me home. And don't you believe when we got there it was a quarter past ten and Papa was coming for me. Dory said he guessed I must be enjoying myself to stay so late. I didn't tell anybody about it for three days because I knew they'd laugh at me, and they did. Wasn't it funny? And old Mrs. Avery looked as sleepy as I felt and kept yawning behind her hand. I told Papa if I had a watch of my own I shouldn't make such mistakes, and he laughed and said, You'll see. Oh, do you suppose that means he's going to give me one? We are so proud of Dory's having taken two prizes of the examination yesterday. He took the second Latin prize and the first mathematics. Dr. Pullman says he thinks Dory is one of the most thorough boys he ever saw. Isn't that nice? The prizes were books. One was the life of Benjamin Franklin and the other the life of General Butler. Papa says he doesn't think much of the life of Butler, but Dory has begun it and says it is splendid. Phil says when he takes a prize he wants candy and a new knife, but he'll have to wait a good while unless he studies harder than he does now. He's just come in to tease me to go up into the garret and help him get down his sled because he thinks it is going to snow, but there isn't a sign of it, and the weather is quite warm. I asked him what I should say for him to you, and he said, Oh, tell her to come home and anything you please. I said, Shall I give her your love and say that you are very well? And he says, Oh, yes, Miss Elsie, I guess you'd think yourself mighty well if your head ached as much as mine does every day. Don't be frightened, however, for he's just as fat and rosy as can be. But almost every day he says he feels sick about school time. When Papa was at Moorfield Miss Finch believed him and let him stay home two mornings. I don't wonder at it, for you can think what a face he makes up. But he got well so fast that she pays no attention to him now. The other day, about eleven o'clock, Papa met him coming along the road, shying stones at the birds and making lots of noise. He told Papa he felt so sick that his teacher had let him go home. But Papa noticed that his mouth looked sticky, so he opened his dinner basket and found that the little scamp had eaten up all his dinner on the road. Corned beef, bread and butter, a great piece of minced pie and six pears. Papa couldn't help laughing, but he made him turn around and go right back to school again. I told you in my last about Johnny's going to school with me now. She's very proud of it, and is always talking about Elsie's and my school. She's twice as smart as the other girls of her age. Miss McCrane has put her into the composition class where they write compositions on their slates. The first subject was a kitten, and Johns began, she's a dear, little soft scratching thing, only you'd better not pull her by the tail, but she's real cunning. All the girls laughed, and Johnny called out, well, it's true anyhow. I can't write anymore, for I must study my Latin. Besides, this is the longest letter that ever was. I have been four days writing it. Please send me one just as long. Old Mary and the children send lots of love, and Papa says, tell Katie if a pudding diet sets her to growing again, she must come home at once, for he couldn't afford it. Oh, dear, how I wish I could see you. Please give my love to Rose Red. She must be perfectly splendid. You're affectionate, Elsie. Oh, the dear, little duck! Isn't that just like her? said Clover. I think Elsie has a real genius for writing, don't you? She tells all the little things, and is so droll and cunning. Nobody writes such nice letters. Who's that from, Katie? Cousin Helen, and it's been such a long time coming, just look at this date, September 22nd, a whole month ago, then she began to read. Dear Katie, it seems a long time since we have had a talk, but I have been less well lately, so that it has been difficult to write. Yesterday I sat up for the first time in several weeks, and today I am dressed and beginning to feel like myself. I wish you could see my room this morning. I often wish this, but it is so particularly pretty, for a little Helen has been in with a great basket full of leaves and flowers, and together we have dressed it to perfection. There are four vases of roses, a bowl full of chrysanthemums, and red leaves around all my pictures. The leaves are Virginia creeper. It doesn't last long, but it is lovely while it lasts. Helen also brought a bird's nest which the gardener found in a Hawthorne tree on the lawn. It hangs on a branch, and she has tied it to one side of my bookshelves. On the opposite side is another nest quite different, a great gray hornet's nest as big as a band box which came from the mountains a year ago. I wonder if any such grow in the woods about hills over. In spite of the red leaves, the day is warm as summer, and the windows stand wide open. I suppose it is cooler with you, but I know it is delicious cold. Now that I think of it you must be an asperm by this time. I hope you will enjoy every moment of your vacation. October 19th. I did not finish my letter the day it was begun, dear Katie, and the next morning it proved that I was not so strong as I fancied, and I had to go to bed again. I am still there, and as you see writing with a pencil. But do not be worried about me, for the doctor says I am mending, and soon I hope to be up and in my chair. The red leaves are gone, but the roses are lovely as ever, for little Helen keeps bringing me fresh ones. She has just been in to read me her composition. The subject was stars, and you can't think how much she found to say about them. She is a bright little creature, and it is a great pleasure to teach her. I am hardly ever so sick that she cannot come for her lessons, and she gets on fast. We have made an arrangement that when she knows more than I do, she is to give me lessons, and I am not sure that the time is so very far off. I must tell you about my Ben. He is a new canary which was given me in the summer, and lately he has grown so delightfully tame that I feel as if it were not a bird at all, but a fairy prince come to live with me and amuse me. The caged door is left open always now, and he flies in and out as he likes. He is a restless inquisitive fellow, and visits any part of the room trying each fresh thing with his bill to see if it is good to eat, and then perching on it to see if it is good to sit upon. He mistakes his own reflection in the looking glass for another canary, and sits on the pincushion, twittering and making love to himself for half an hour at a time. To watch him is one of my greatest amusements, especially just now when I am in bed so much. Sometimes he hides and keeps so still that I have not the least idea where he is. But the moment I call Ben, Ben, and hold out my finger, wings begin to rustle, and out he flies and perches on my finger. He isn't the least bit in the world afraid, but sits on my head or shoulder, eats out of my mouth, and kisses me with his beak. He is on the pillow at this moment, making runs at my pencil, of which he is mortally jealous. It is just so with my combs and brushes if I attempt to do my hair. He cannot bear to have me do anything but play with him. I do wish I could show him to you and clover. Little Helen, my other pet, has just come in with a sponge cake which she frosted herself. She sends her love and says when you come to me next summer she will frost you each one just like it. Goodbye, my Katie. I had nothing to write about and I've written it, but I never like to keep silent too long or let you feel as if you were forgotten by your loving cousin Helen. P.S. Be sure to wear plenty of warm wraps for your winter walks, and Katie, dear, you must eat meat every day. Mrs. Nipson will probably give up her favourite pudding now that the cold weather has begun, but if not, write to Papa. Isn't that letter cousin Helen all over, said Katie, so little about her illness and so bright and merry, and yet she has really been sick. Papa says a sharp attack. Isn't she the dearest person in the world, next to Papa, I mean? Yes, indeed. There's nobody like her. I do hope we can go to see her next summer. Now it's my turn. I can't think who this letter is from. Oh, Clarence! Katie, I can't let you see this. I promised I wouldn't show his letters to anybody, not even you. Oh, very well. But you've got another. Dory, isn't it? Read that first, and I'll go away and leave you in peace. So Clover read. Dear Clover, Elsie says she is going to write you to-day, but I won't stop because next Saturday I'm going out fishing with the slacks. There are a great many trout now in Bluebrook. Eugene caught six the other day. No, five. One was a minnow. Papa has given me a splendid rod. It lets out as tall as a house. I hope I shall catch with it. Alexander says the trout will admire it so much that they can't help biting, but he was only funny. Elsie and I play chess most every night. She plays a real good game for a girl. Sometimes Pa helps, and then she beats. Miss Finch is well. She don't keep house quite like Katie did, and I don't like her so well as I do you, but she's pretty nice. The other day we had a nutting picnic, and she gave me and Phil a loaf of election cake, and six quince turnovers to carry. The boys gave three cheers for her when they saw them. Did Elsie tell you that I have invented a new machine? It is called the Intellectual Peach Parer. There is a place to hold a book while you pair the peaches. It is very convenient. I don't think of anything else to tell you. Cece has got home and is going to have a party next week. She's grown up now, she says, and she wears her hair quite different. It's a great deal thicker than it used to be. Elsie says it's because there are rats in it, but I don't believe her. Elsie has got a new friend. Her name is Helen Gibbs. She's quite pretty. Her affectionate brother, Dory. P.S. John wants to put in a note. John's note was written in a round hand, as easy to read as print. Dear Clover, I am well and hope you are the same. I wish you would write me a letter of my own. I go to school with Elsie now. We write compositions. They are hard to write. We don't go up until the loft half so much as we used to when you were at home. Mrs. Warrett came to dinner last week. She says she weighs two hundred and eighty pounds. I should think it would be dreadful to weigh that. I only weigh seventy-six. My head comes up to the mark on the door where you were measured when you were twelve. Isn't that tall? Goodbye. I send a kiss to Katie. Your loving John. After they had finished this note, Katie went away, leaving Clover to open Clarence's letter by herself. It was not so well written or spelt as Dory's by any means. Dear Clover, don't forget what you promised. I mean about not showing this. And don't tell Lily I wrote. If you do she'll be as mad as hops. I haven't been doing much since you went away. School begun yesterday, and I am glad, for it's awfully dull now that you girls have gone. Mother says Guest has got fleas on him so she won't let him come into the house any more. I stay out in the barn with him instead. He is well and sends you a wag of his tail. Jim and me are making him a collar. It is black with G.P. on it, for Guest paid, you know. A lot of the boys had a camping out last week. I went. It was real jolly, but Ma wouldn't let me stay all night, so I lost the best part. They roasted Sculpins for supper, and had a bonfire. The camp was on Hearts Net Hill. Next time you come I'll take you out there. Pa has gone to Maine on business. He said I must take care of the house, so I've borrowed Jim's gun, and if any robbers come I mean to shoot them. I always go to sleep with a broom against the door so as to wake up when they open it. This morning I thought they had come, for the broom was gone and the gun too, but it was only Brigid. She opened the door and it fell down, but I didn't wake up, so she took it away and put the gun in the closet. I was mad, I can tell you. This is only a short letter, but I hope you will answer it soon. Give my love to Katie, and tell Dory that if he likes I'll send him my compass for his machinery because I've got two. Your affectionate cousin, Clarence Page. This was the last of the budget. As Clover folded it up, she was dismayed by the tingle of the T-bell. Oh, dear, she cried. There's tea, and I've not finished my letter to Elsie. Where has the afternoon gone? How splendid it has been! I wish I could have four letters every day as long as I live. Christmas Boxes October was a delightful month, clear and sparkling, but early in November the weather changed and became very cold. Thick frosts fell, every leaf vanished from the woods, in the gardens only blackened stalks remained to show where once the summer flowers had been. In spite of the stove outside the door, number two began to be chilly. More than once Katie found her toothbrush stiff with ice in the morning. It was a foretaste of what the winter was to be, and the girls shivered at the prospect. Toward the end of November Miss Jane caught a heavy cold. Unsparing of herself as of others, she went on hearing her classes as usual, and nobody paid much attention to her hoarseness and flushed cheeks until she grew so much worse that she was forced to go to bed. There she stayed for nearly four weeks. It made a great change in the school, and the girls found it such a relief to have her sharp voice and eyes taken away that I am afraid they were rather glad of her illness than otherwise. Katie shared in this feeling of relief, she did not like Miss Jane. It was pleasant not to have to see or hear of her. But as day after day passed, and still she continued ill, Katie's conscience began to prick. One night she lay awake a long time and heard Miss Jane coughing violently. Katie feared she was very sick and wondered who took care of her all night and all day. None of the girls went near her, the servants were always busy, and Mrs. Nipson, who did not love Miss Jane, was busy too. In the morning, while studying and practicing, Katie caught herself thinking over this question. At last she asked Miss Marsh, how is Miss Jane today? About the same. She is not dangerously ill, the doctor says, but she coughs a great deal and has some fever. Is anybody sitting with her? Oh no, there's no need of any one. Susan answers the bell and she has her medicine on the table within reach. It sounded forlorn enough. Katie had lived in a sikram so long herself that she knew just how dreary it is for an invalid to be left alone with medicine within reach and someone to answer a bell. She began to feel sorry for Miss Jane, and almost without intending it, went down the entry and tapped at her door. The come-in sounded very faint, and Miss Jane as she lay in bed looked weak and dismal, and quite unlike the sharp, terrible person whom the girls feared so much. She was amazed at the sight of Katie, and made a feeble attempt to hold up her head and speak as usual. What is it, Miss Carr? I only came to see how you are, said Katie, abashed at her own daring. You coughed so much last night that I was afraid you were worse. Isn't there something I could do for you? Thank you, said Miss Jane. You are very kind. Think of Miss Jane's tanking anybody and calling anybody kind. I should be very glad. Isn't there anything? repeated Katie encouraged. Well, I don't know. You might put another stick of wood on the fire, said Miss Jane in an ungracious tone. Katie did so, and seeing that the iron cup on top of the stove was empty she poured some water into it. Then she took a look about the room. Books and papers were scattered over the table. Clean clothes from the wash lay on the chairs. Nothing was in its place, and Katie, who knew how particular Miss Jane was on the subject of order, guessed at the discomfort which this untidy state of affairs must have caused her. Wouldn't you like to have me put these away, she asked, touching the pile of clothes? Miss Jane sighed impatiently, but she did not say no. So'd Katie, taking silence for consent, opened the doors and laid the clothes inside, guessing at the right places with a sort of instinct, and making as little noise and bustle as possible. Next she moved quietly to the table, where she sorted and arranged the papers, piled up the books, and put the pens and pencils in a small tray which stood there for the purpose. Lastly she began to dust the table with her pocket handkerchief, which, proceeding, roused Miss Jane at once. Don't, she said. There's a duster in the cupboard. Katie could not help smiling, but she found the duster and proceeded to put the rest of the room into nice order, laying a fresh towel over the bedside table and arranging watch, medicine and spoon within reach. Miss Jane lay and watched her. I think she was as much surprised at herself for permitting all this as Katie was at being permitted to do it. Sick people often consent because they feel too weak to object. After all, it was comfortable to have someone come in and straighten the things which, for ten days past, had vexed her neat eyes with their untidiness. Lastly, smoothing the quilt, Katie asked if Miss Jane wouldn't like to have her pillow shaken up. I don't care, was the answer. It sounded discouraging, but Katie boldly seized the pillow, beat, smoothed, and put it again in place. Then she went out of the room as noiselessly as she could. Miss Jane never saying thank you or seeming to observe whether she went or stayed. Rose Redd and Clover could hardly believe their ears when told where she had been. They stared at her as people stare at Van Omburg when he comes safely out of Lion's Den. My stars! exclaimed Rose, drawing a long breath. You didn't really? And she hasn't bitten your head off. Not a bit, said Katie, laughing. What's more, I'm going again. She was as good as her word. After that she went to see Miss Jane very often. Almost always there was some little thing which she could do—the fire-needed mending or the pitcher to be filled with ice-water, or Miss Jane wanted the blinds opened or shot. Gradually she grew used to seeing Katie about the room. One morning she actually allowed her to brush her hair, and Katie's touch was so light and pleasant that afterwards Miss Jane begged her to do it every day. What makes you such a good nurse? She asked one afternoon rather abruptly. Being sick myself, replied Katie gently. Then, in answer to farther questioning, she told of her four years' illness and her life upstairs, keeping house and studying lessons all alone by herself. Miss Jane did not say anything when she got through, but Katie fancied she looked at her in a new and kinder way. So time went on till Christmas. It fell on a Friday that year, which shortened the holidays by a day and disappointed many of the girls. Only a few went home. The rest were left to pass the time as best they might till Monday when lessons were to begin again. It isn't much like Merry Christmas, sighed clover to herself as she looked up at the uncaught in space at the top of the window, and saw great snowflakes wildly whirling by. Number two felt cold and dreary, and she was glad to exchange it for the schoolroom round whose warm stove a cluster of girls was huddling. Everybody was in bad spirits. There was a tendency to talk about home and the nice time which people were having there, and the very bad time they themselves were having at the nunnery. Isn't it miserable? I shall cry all night. I know I shall. I'm so homesick," gulped Lily, who had taken possession of her roommate's shoulder, and was weeping ostentatiously. I declare, you're just Mrs. Gummidge and David Copperfield over again, said Rose. You recollect her girls, don't you? When the porridge was burnt, you know, all of us felt the disappointment, but Mrs. Gummidge felt it the most. Isn't Lily a real Mrs. Gummidge, girls? The observation changed Lily's tears into anger. You're as hateful and as horrid as you can be, Rose Red, she exclaimed angrily. Then she flew out of the room and shut the door behind her with a bang. There, she's gone upstairs to be mad, said Louisa Agnew. I don't care if she has, replied Rose, who was in a perverse mood. I wish you hadn't said that, Rosie, whispered to Clover. Lily really felt badly. Well, what if she did? So do I feel badly, and you and the rest of us. Lily hasn't taken out a patent for bad feelings, which nobody must infringe. What business has she to make us feel badder by setting up to be so much worse than the rest of the world? Clover said nothing, but went on with a book she was reading. In less than ten minutes Rose, whose son Seldom stayed long behind a cloud, was at her elbow, dimpling and coaxing. I forgive you, she whispered giving Clover's arm a little pinch. What for? For being in the right. About Lily, I mean. I was rather hateful to her, I confess. Never mind, when she comes downstairs I'll make up. She's a crocodile if there ever was one. But as she's your cousin, I'll be good to her. Kiss me quick to prove that you're not vexed. Vexed indeed, said Clover, kissing the middle of the pink cheek. I wonder if anybody ever stayed vexed with you for ten minutes together, you rosy posy you. Bless you, yes. Miss Jane, for example. She hates me like poison, and all the time. Well, what of it? I know she's sick, but I can't tell a lie, Pa, on that account. Where's Katie? Gone in to see her, I believe. One of these days, prophesied Rose solemnly, she'll go into that room and she'll never come out again. Miss Jane is getting back into biting condition. I advise Katie to be careful. What's that noise? Slay bells, I declare. Girls, mounting a desk and peeping out of the window, somebody's got a big box, a big one. Here's old Joyce at the door with his sledge. Now, who do you suppose it is? It's for me, I'm sure it's for me," cried half a dozen voices. Bella, my love, peep over the balusters and see if you can't see the name, cried Louisa, and Bella, nothing loathe, departed at once on this congenial errand. No, I can't," she reported, coming back from the hall. The names tipped up against the wall. There's two boxes. One is big and one is little. Oh, who can they be for, clamored the girls. Half the school expected boxes, and had been watching the storm all day, with a dreadful fear that it would block the roads and delay the expected treasures. At this moment Mrs. Nipson came in. There will be the usual study hour this evening, she announced. All of you will prepare lessons for Monday morning. Miss Carr, come here for a moment, if you please. Clover, wondering, followed her into the entry. A parcel has arrived for you and a box, said Mrs. Nipson. I presume that they contain articles for Christmas. I will have the nails removed and both of them placed in your room this evening, but I expect you to refrain from examining them until tomorrow. The vacation does not open until after study hour tonight, and it will then be too late for you to begin. Very well, ma'am," said Clover, demurely. But the minute Mrs. Nipson's back was turned, she gave a jump and rushed into the school room. Oh, girls! she cried. What do you think? Both the boxes are for Katie and me. Both! cried a disappointed chorus. Yes, both. Nipson said so. I'm sorry for you, but isn't it nice for us? We've never had a box from home before, you know, and I didn't think we should. It's so far off. Oh, it's too lovely. But I do hope yours will come tonight. Clover's voice was so sympathizing for all its glee that nobody could help being glad with her. You little darling! said Louisa, giving her a hug. I'm rejoiced that the box is yours. The rest of us are always getting them, and you and Katie never had a thing before. I hope it's a nice one. Study hour seemed unusually long that night. The minute it was over, the sisters ran to number two. There stood the boxes, a big wooden one with all the nails taken out of the lid, and a small paper one carefully tied up and sealed. It was almost more than the girls could do to obey orders and not peep. I feel something hard, announced Clover, inserting a finger-top under the lid. Oh, do you? cried Katie. Then making a heroic effort she dumped into the bed. It's the only way, she said. You'd better come to, Clovy. Blow the candle out and let's get to sleep as fast as we can so as to make morning come quicker. Katie dreamed of home that night. Perhaps it was that which made her wake so early. It was not five o'clock, and the room was perfectly dark. She did not like to disturb Clover, so she lay perfectly still for hours, as it seemed, till a faint gray dawn crept in and revealed the outlines of the big box standing by the window. Then she could wait no longer, but crept out of bed, crossed the floor on tiptoe, and raising the little little put in her hand. Something crumbly and sugary met it, and when she drew it out, there, fitting on her finger like a ring, was a round cake with a hole in the middle of it. Oh, it's one of Debbie's jumbles, she exclaimed. Where? What are you doing? Give me one, too, cried Clover, starting up. Katie rummaged till she found another, then half frozen she ran back to bed, and the two lay nibbling the dumbles and talking about home till dawn deepened into daylight and morning was fairly come. Breakfast was half an hour later than usual, which was comfortable. As soon as it was over the girls proceeded to unpack their box. The day was so cold that they wrapped themselves in shawls, and Clover put on a hood in thick gloves. Rose red, passing the door, burst out laughing, and recommended that she should add India rubbers in an umbrella. Come in, cried the sisters, come in and help us open our box. Oh, by the way, you have a box, haven't you? said Rose, who was perfectly aware of the important fact, and had presented herself with the hope of being asked to look on. Thank you, but perhaps I would better come some other time. I shall be in your way. You humbug, said Clover, while Katie seized Rose and pulled her into the room. There, sit on the bed, you ridiculous goose, and put on my gray cloak. How can you be so absurdist to say you won't? You know we want you, and you know you came on purpose. Did I? Well, perhaps I did, laughed Rose. Then Katie lifted off the lid and set it against the door. It was an exciting moment. Just look here, cried Katie. The top of the box was mostly taken up with four square paper boxes, round which parcels of all shapes and sizes were wedged and fitted. The hole was a miracle of packing. It had taken Miss Finch three mornings with assistance from Old Mary and much advice from Elsie to do it so beautifully. Each box held a different kind of cake. One was of jumbles, another of ginger snaps, a third of crawlers, and the fourth contained a big square loaf of frosted plum cake with a circle of sugar almonds set in the frosting, how the trio exclaimed at this. I never imagined anything so nice, declared Rose with her mouth full of jumble. As for those snaps, they're simply perfect. What can be in all those fascinating bundles? Do hurry and open one, Katie. Dear little Elsie, the first two bundles opened were hers, a white hood for Katie and a blue one for Clover, both of her own knitting and so nicely done. The girls were enchanted. How she has improved, said Katie. She knits better than either of us, Clover. There never was such a clever little darling, responded Clover, and they patted the hoods, tried them on before the glass, and spent so much time in admiring them that Rose grew impatient. I declare, she cried, it isn't any of my funeral, I know, but if you don't open another parcel soon I shall certainly fall to myself. It seems as if, what with cold and curiosity, I couldn't wait. Very well, said Katie, laying aside her hood with one final glance. Take out a bundle, Clover, it's your turn. Clover's bundle was for herself, Evangeline in blue and gold, and pretty soon, gold and legend in the same binding appeared for Katie. Both these were from Dory. Next came a couple of round packages of exactly the same size. These proved to be ink stands covered with Russian leather. One marked Katie from Johnny, and the other, Clover from Phil. It was evident that the children had done their shopping together, for presently two long narrow parcels revealed the carved pen handles precisely alike, and these were labelled Katie from Phil and Clover from Johnny. What fun it was opening those bundles! The girls made a long business of it, taking out but one at a time, exclaiming, admiring, and exhibiting to Rose before they began upon another. They laughed, they joked, but I do not think it would have taken much to make either of them cry. It was almost too tender a pleasure, these proofs of loving remembrance from the little ones, and each separate article seemed full of the very look and feel of home. What can this be? said Katie as she unrolled a paper and disclosed a pretty round box. She opened. Nothing was visible but pink cotton wool. Katie peeped beneath and gave a cry. Oh, Clover, such a lovely thing! It's from Papa. Of course it's from Papa. How could he? It's a great deal too pretty. The lovely thing was a long, slender chain for Katie's watch, worked in fine yellow gold. Clover admired it extremely, and her join-you-know bounds when further search revealed another box with a precisely similar chain for herself. It was too much. The girls fairly cried with pleasure. There never was such a Papa in the world, they said. Yes, there is. Mine is just as good, declared Rose, twinkling away a little teardrop from her own eyes. Now don't cry, honeys. Your Papa's an angel. There's no doubt about it. I never saw such pretty chains in my life. Never. As for the children, they're little ducks. You certainly are a wonderful family. Katie, I'm dying to know what is in the blue parcel. The blue parcel was from Cece and contained a pretty blue ribbon for Clover. There was a pink one also with a pink ribbon for Katie. Everybody had thought of the girls. Old Mary had sent them each a yard measure. Miss Finch, a thread case, stocked with differently colored cottons. Alexander had cracked a bag full of hickory nuts. Did you ever, said Rose, when this last was produced? What a thing it is to be popular. Mrs. Hall, who's Mrs. Hall, as Clover unwrapped a tiny carved easel. She's Cece's mother, explained Clover. Wasn't she kind to send me this, Katie? And here's Cece's photograph in a little frame for you. Never was such a wonderful box. It appeared to have no bottom whatever. Under the presents were parcels of figs, prunes, almonds, raisins, candy, under those apples and pears. There seemed no end to the surprises. At last all were out. Now, said Katie, let's throw back the apples and pears and then I want you to help divide the other things and make some packages for the girls. They're all disappointed not to have their boxes. I should like to have them share ours, wouldn't you, Clover? Yes, indeed. I was just going to propose it. So Clover cut twenty-nine squares of white paper, Rose and Katie sorted and divided, and pretty soon ginger snaps and almonds and sugar plums were walking down all the entries and a glad some crunching showed that the girls had found pleasant enjoyment. None of the snowed-up boxes got through till Monday, so except for Katie and Clover, the school would have had no Christmas treat at all. They carried Mrs. Nipson a large slice of cake and a basket full of the beautiful red apples. All the teachers were remembered and the servants. The SSUC was convened and feasted, and as for Rose, Louisa and other special cronies, dainties were heaped upon them with such unsparing hand that they finally remonstrated. You're giving everything away. You'll have nothing left for yourselves. Yes, we shall. Plenty, said Clover. Oh, Rosie, here's such a splendid pair. You must have this. No, no, protested Rose. But Clover forced it into her pocket. The carous box was always quoted in the nunnery afterward as an example of what papas and mamas could accomplish when they were of the right sort and really wanted to make schoolgirls happy. Distributing their treasures kept Katie and Clover so busy that it was not until after dinner that they found time to open the smaller box. When they did so, they were sorry for the delay. The box was full of flowers, roses, geranium leaves, heliotrope, beautiful red and white carnations, all so bedded in cotton that the frost had not touched them. But they looked chilled, and Katie hastened to put them in warm water, which she had been told was the best way to revive drooping flowers. Cousin Helen had sent them, and underneath sewed to the box that they might not shake about and do mischief, where two flat parcels wrapped in tissue paper and tied with white ribbon in Cousin Helen's dainty way. They were glove cases of quilted silk, delicately scented, one white and one lilac, and to each was pinned a loving note wishing the girls a merry Christmas. How awfully good people are, said Clover. I do think we ought to be the best girls in the world. Last of all, Katie made a choice little selection from her stores, a splendid apple, a couple of fine pairs and a handful of raisins and figs, and with a few of the freshest flowers in a wine-glass, she went down the row and tapped at Miss Jane's door. Miss Jane was sitting up for the first time, wrapped in a shawl, and looking very thin and pale. Katie, who would almost cease to be afraid of her, went in cheerily. We've had a delicious box from home, Miss Jane, full of all sorts of things. It has been such fun unpacking it. I've brought you an apple, some pears, and this little bunch of flowers. Wasn't it a nice Christmas for us? Yes, said Miss Jane, very nice indeed. I heard someone say in the entry that you had a box. Thank you. As Katie set the basket and glass on the table. Those flowers are very sweet. I wish you a merry Christmas, I'm sure. This was much for Miss Jane, who couldn't help speaking shortly, even when she was pleased. Katie withdrew in high glee. But that night, just before bedtime, something happened so surprising that Katie, telling Clover of it afterward, said she half-fancy that she must have dreamed it all. It was about eight o'clock in the evening. She was passing down Quaker Row and Miss Jane called and asked her to come in. Miss Jane's cheeks were flushed and she spoke fast, as if she had resolved to say something and thought the sooner it was over, the better. Miss Carr, she began, I wish to tell you that I've made up my mind sometimes since that we did you an injustice last term. It is not your attentions to me during my illness which have changed my opinion. That was done before I fell ill. It is your general conduct and the good influence which I have seen you exert over other girls which convince me that we must have been wrong about you. That is all. I thought you might like to hear me say this, and I shall say the same to Mrs. Nipson. Thank you, said Katie. You don't know how glad I am. She half-thought she would kiss Miss Jane, but somehow it didn't seem possible, so she shook hands very heartily instead and flew to her room feeling as if her feet were wings. It seems too good to be true. I want to cry I'm so happy, she told Clover. What a lovely day this has been. And of all she had received, I think Katie considered this explanation with Miss Jane as her very best Christmas box.