 CHAPTER 1 CONNECTS SECTION It was just after that happy visit of which I told at the end of what Katie did that Elsie and John made their famous excursion to Connick's section, an excursion which neither of them ever forgot, and about which the family teased them for a long time afterward. The summer had been cool, but, as often happens after cool summers, the autumn proved unusually hot. It seemed as if the months had been playing a game and had changed places all round, and as if September were determined to show that he knew how to make himself just as disagreeable as August, if only he chose to do so. All the last half of Cousin Helen's stay the weather was excessively sultry. She felt it very much, though the children did all they could to make her comfortable, with shaded rooms and iced water and fans. Every evening the boys would wheel her sofa out on the porch in hopes of coolness, but it was of no use. The evenings were as warm as the days, and the yellow dust hanging in the air made the sunshine look thick and hot. A few bright leaves appeared on the trees, but they were wrinkled and of an ugly colour. Clover said she thought they had been boiled red like lobsters. All together, the month was a trying one, and the coming of October made little difference. Still, the dust continued and the heat, and the wind when it blew had no refreshment in it, but seemed to have passed over some great furnace which had burned out of it all life and flavour. In spite of this, however, it was wonderful to see how Katie gained and improved, every day added to her powers. First she came down to dinner, then to breakfast. She sat on the porch in the afternoons, she poured the tea. It was like a miracle to the others in the beginning to watch her going about the house. But they got used to it surprisingly soon. One does, to pleasant things. One person, however, never got used to it, never took it as a matter of course, and that was Katie herself. She could not run downstairs or out into the garden, she could not open the kitchen door to give an order without a sense of gladness and exaltation which was beyond words. The wider and more active life stimulated her in every way. Her cheeks grew round and pink, her eyes bright. One Helen and Papa watched this change with indescribable pleasure, and Mrs. Warrod, who dropped into lunch one day, fairly screamed with surprise at the sight of it. To think of it, she cried, why, the last time I was here you looked as if you had took root in that chair of yours for the rest of your days, and here you are stepping around as lively as I be. Well, well, wonders will never cease. It does my eyes good to see you, Catherine. I wish your poor aunt were here today. That I do. How pleased she'd be. It is doubtful whether Aunt Izzy would have been so pleased, for the lived-in look of the best parlor would have horrified her extremely. But Katie did not recollect that just then. She was touched at the genuine kindness of Mrs. Warrod's voice, and took very willingly her offered kiss. Clover brought laminating grapes, and they all devoted themselves to making the poor lady comfortable. Just before she went away she said, How is it that I can't never get any of you to come out to Connick's section? I'm sure I've asked you often enough. There's Elsie now, and John, they're just the age to enjoy being in the country. Why won't you send them out for a week? Johnny can feed the chickens, and chase them to if she likes. She added, as Johnny dashed just then to view pursuing one of Phil's bantams round the house. Tell her so, won't you, Catherine? There's lots of chickens on the farm. She can chase them from morning to night if she's a mind to. Katie thanked her, but she didn't think the children would care to go. She gave Johnny the message, and then the whole matter passed out of her mind. The family were in low spirits that morning because of cousin Helens having just gone away, and Elsie was lying on the sofa fanning herself with a great palm leaf fan. Oh, dear! She sighed. Do you suppose it's ever going to be cool again? It does seem as if I couldn't bear it any longer. Aren't you well, darling? inquired Katie anxiously. Oh, yes, well enough! replied Elsie. It's only this horrid heat and never going away to where it's cooler. I keep thinking about the country and wishing I were there feeling the wind blow. I wonder if Papa wouldn't let John and me go to Connick's section and see Mrs. Warrett. Do you think he would, if you asked him? But—said Katie, amazed—Connick's section isn't exactly country, you know. It is just out of the city, only six miles from here. And Mrs. Warrett's house is close to the road, Papa said. Do you think you'd like it, dear? It can't be very much cooler than this. Oh, yes, it can! Rejoined Elsie in a tone which was a little fretful. It's always cooler on a farm. There's more room for the wind, and—oh, everything's pleasanter. I can't think how tired I am of this hot house. Last night I hardly slept at all, and when I did I dreamed that I was a loaf of brown bread and Debbie was putting me into the oven to bake. It was a horrid dream. I was so glad to wake up. Won't you ask Papa if we may go, Katie? Why, of course I will, if you wish it so much. Only—Katie stopped and did not finish her sentence. A vision of fat Mrs. Warrett had risen before her, and she could not help doubting if Elsie would find the farm as pleasant as she expected. But sometimes the truest kindness isn't giving people their own unwise way, and Elsie's eyes looked so wistful that Katie had no heart to argue or refuse. Dr. Carr looked doubtful when the plan was proposed to him. It's too hot, he said. I don't believe the girls will like it. Oh, yes, we will, Papa, indeed we will, pleaded Elsie and John, who had lingered near the door to learn the fate of their request. Dr. Carr smiled at the imploring faces, but he looked a little quizzical. Very well, he said. You may go. Mr. Warrett is coming into town to-morrow on some bank business. I'll send word by him, and in the afternoon, when it is cooler, Alexander can drive you out. Goodie, goodie! cried John, jumping up and down, while Elsie put her arms round Papa's neck and gave him a hug. And Thursday I'll send for you, he continued. But Papa—expostulated Elsie—that's only two days. Mrs. Warrett said a week. Yes, she said a week, chimed in John, and she's got ever so many chickens, and I'm to feed him and chase him as much as I like. Only it's too hot to run much," she added reflectively. You won't really send for us on Thursday, will you, Papa? urged Elsie anxiously. I'd like to stay ever and ever so long, but Mrs. Warrett said a week. I shall send on Thursday, repeated Dr. Carr in a decided tone. Then, seeing that Elsie's lip was trembling and her eyes were full of tears, he continued, don't look so woeful, pussy. Alexander shall drive out for you. But if you want to stay longer, you may send him back with a note to say what day you would like to have him come again. Will that do? Oh, yes! said Elsie, wiping her eyes. That will do beautifully, Papa. Only it seems such a pity that Alexander should have to go twice when it's so hot, for we're perfectly sure to want to stay a week. Papa only laughed as he kissed her. All being settled, the children began to get ready. It was quite an excitement packing the bags and deciding what to take and what not to take. Elsie grew bright and gay with the bustle. Just to think of being in the country. The cool, green country made her perfectly happy, she declared. The truth was, she was a little feverish and not quite well, and didn't know exactly how she felt or what she wanted. The drive-out was pleasant, except that Alexander upset John's gravity and hurt Elsie's dignity very much, by inquiring, as they left the gate, do the little Mrs. know where it is they want to go? Part of the way the road ran through woods. They were rather boggy woods, but the dense shade kept off the sun, and there was a spicy smell of evergreens and sweet fern. Elsie felt that the good time had fairly begun, and her spirits rose with every turn of the wheels. By and by they left the woods and came out again into the sunshine. The road was dusty, and so were the fields, and the ragged sheaves of corn-stocks which dotted them here and there looked dusty, too. Piles of dusty red apples lay on the grass under the orchard trees. Some cows going down a lane toward their milking shed, mood in a dispirited and thirsty way, which made the children feel thirsty also. I want a drink of water awfully, said John. Do you suppose it's much farther? How long will it be before we get to Mrs. Warrant's Alexander? Most their miss," replied Alexander leconically. Elsie put her head out of the carriage and looked eagerly around. Where was the delightful farm? She saw a big, pumpkin-coloured house by the roadside a little farther on, but surely that couldn't be it. Yes, Alexander drew up at the gate and jumped down to lift them out. It really was. The surprise quite took away her breath. She looked about. There were the woods, to be sure, but half a mile away across the fields. Near the house there were no trees at all, only some lilac bushes at one side. There was no green grass, either. A gravel path took up the whole of the narrow front yard, and what would the blazing colour of the paint and the wide-awake look of the blindless windows? The house had somehow the air of standing on tiptoe staring hard at something—the dust in the road, perhaps, for there seemed to be nothing to stare at. These hearts sank indescribably as she and John got very slowly out of the carry-all, and Alexander, putting his arm over the fence, wrapped loudly at the front door. It was some minutes before the rap was answered. Then a heavy step was heard creaking through the hall, and somebody began fumbling at an obstinate bolt which would not move. Next, a voice which they recognised as Mrs. Words called, Issa Finney? Issa Finney! Come and see if you can open this door. How funny! whispered Johnny, beginning to giggle. Issa Finney seemed to be upstairs. For presently they heard her running down, after which a fresh rattle began at the obstinate bolt. But still the door did not open, and at length Mrs. Warrod put her lips to the keyhole and asked, Who is it? The voice sounded so hollow and ghostly that Elsie jumped as she answered, It's I, Mrs. Warrod, Elsie Carr, and Johnny's here too. Sounded from within, and then came a whispering, after which Mrs. Warrod put her mouth again to the keyhole and called out, Go round to the back, children. I can't make this door open any way. It swelled up with the damp. Damp! whispered Johnny. Why, it hasn't rained since the third week in August. Papa said so yesterday. That's nothing, Miss Johnny. Put in Alexander overhearing her. Folks here away don't open their front doors much, only for weddings and funerals and such like. Very likely the sisters shut these five years. I know the last time I drove Miss Carr out, before she died, it was just so. And she had to go round to the back as you're doing now. John's eyes grew wide with wonder. But there was no time to say anything, for they had turned the corner of the house, and there was Mrs. Warrod waiting at the kitchen door to receive them. She looked fatter than ever, Elsie thought, but she kissed them both and said she was real glad to see a car in her house at last. It was too bad, she went on, to keep you waiting so. But the fact is I got asleep, and when you knocked I waked up all in a daze, and for a minute it didn't come to me who it must be. Take the bags right upstairs as a finny, and put them in the keeping-room chamber. How's your pie, Elsie, and Katie? Not laid up again, I hope. Oh, no! She seems to get better all the time. That's right, responded Mrs. Warrod heartily. I didn't know but what, with hot weather and company in the house and all? There's a chicken, Johnny! She exclaimed, suddenly interrupting herself as a long-legged hen ran past the door. Want to chase it right away? You can, if you like. Or would you rather go upstairs first? Upstairs, please? replied John, while Elsie went to the door, and watched Alexander driving away down the dusty road. She felt as if their last friend had deserted them. Then she and Johnny followed Ysaphini upstairs. Mrs. Warrod never mounted in hot weather, she told them. The spare chamber was just under the roof. It was very hot, and smelled as if the windows had never been opened since the house was built. As soon as they were alone, Elsie ran across the room and threw up the sash. By the moment she let go it fell again with a crash which shook the floor and made the pitcher dance and rattle in the wash bowl. The children were dreadfully frightened, especially when they heard Mrs. Warrod at the foot of the stairs, calling to ask what was the matter. It's only the window, explained Elsie going into the hall. I'm so sorry, but it won't stay open. Something's the matter with it. Did you stick the nail in? inquired Mrs. Warrod. The nail? No, ma'am. Why, how on earth do you expect it to stay up, then? You young folks never see what's before your eyes. Look on the window sill, and you'll find it. It's put there a purpose. Elsie returned, much discomfited. She looked, and sure enough there was a big nail, and there was a hole in the side of the window frame in which to stick it. This time she got the window open without accident, but a long blue paper shade caused her much embarrassment. It hung down and kept the air from coming in. She saw no way of fastening it. "'Roll it up and put in a pin,' suggested John. I'm afraid of tearing the paper. Dear, what a horrid thing it is,' replied Elsie in a disgusted tone. However she stuck in a couple of pins and fastened the shade out of the way. After that they looked about the room. It was plainly furnished, but very nice and neat. The bureau was covered with a white towel on which stood a pin cushion with, remember, Ruth, stuck upon it in pins. John admired this very much and felt that she could never make up her mind to spoil the pattern by taking out a pin, however great her need of one might be. "'What a high bed,' she exclaimed. Elsie, you'll have to climb on a chair to get into it, and so shall I.' Elsie felt of it. "'Feathers,' she cried, a tone of horror. "'Oh, John, why did we come? What shall we do?' "'I guess we shan't mind it much,' replied John, who was perfectly well and considered these little variations on home habits. Brother is fun than otherwise. But Elsie gave a groan. Two nights on a feather-bed. How could she bear it?' Tea was ready in the kitchen when they went downstairs. A small fire had been lighted to boil the water. It was almost out, but the room felt stiflingly warm, and the butter was so nearly melted that Mrs. Ward had to help it with a teaspoon. Buzzing flies hovered above the table and gathered thick on the plate of cake. The bread was excellent, and so were the cottage cheeses and the stewed quinces, but Elsie could eat nothing. She was in a fever of heat. Mrs. Ward was distressed at this wonderful appetite, and so was Mr. Ward, to whom the children had just been introduced. He was a kindly-looking old man with a bald head, who came to supper in his shirt-sleeves, and was as thin as his wife was fat. "'I'm afraid the little girl don't like her supper, Lucinda,' he said. "'You must see about getting her something different for tomorrow.' "'Oh, it isn't that. Everything is very nice only. I'm not hungry,' pleaded Elsie, feeling as if she would like to cry. She did cry a little after tea, as they sat in the dusk. Mr. Ward smoking his pipe and slapping mosquitoes outside the door, and Mrs. Ward sleeping rather noisily in a big rocking chair. But not even Johnny found out that she was crying, for Elsie felt that she was the naughtiest child in the world to behave so badly when everybody was so kind to her. She repeated this to herself many times, but it didn't do much good. As often as the thought of home and Katie and Papa came, a wild longing to get back to them would rush over her, and her eyes would fill again with sudden tears. The night was very uncomfortable. Not a breath of wind was stirring, or none found its way to the sipheling bed with a little sister's lay. John slept pretty well in spite of heat and mosquitoes, but Elsie hardly closed her eyes. Once she got up and went to the window, but the blue paper shade had become unfastened and rattled down upon her head with a sudden bump which startled her very much. She could find no pins in the dark, so she left it hanging, whereupon it rustled and flapped through the rest of the night, and did its share towards keeping her awake. About three o'clock she fell into a dose, and it seemed only a minute after that, before she waked up to find bright sunshine in the room, and half a dozen roosters crowing and calling under the windows. Her head ached violently. She longed to stay in bed, but was afraid it would be thought impolite, so she dressed and went down with Johnny. But she looked so pale and ate so little breakfast, that Mrs. Ward was quite troubled, and said she had bettered not to try to go out, but just lie on the lounge in the best room and amuse herself with a book. The lounge in the best room was covered with slippery purple chints. It was a high lounge, and very narrow. There was nothing at the end to hold the pillow in its place, so the pillow constantly tumbled off and jerked Elsie's head suddenly backward, which was not at all comfortable. Worse, Elsie, having dropped into a dose, she herself tumbled to the floor, rolling from the glassy, smooth chints, as if it had been a slope of ice. This adventure made her so nervous that she dared not go to sleep again, though Johnny fetched two chairs and placed them beside the sofa to hold her on. So she followed Mrs. Ward's advice and amused herself with a book. There were not many books in the best room. The one Elsie chose was a fat black volume called The Complete Works of Mrs. Hannah Moore. Part of it was prose, and part was poetry. Elsie began with a chapter called Hints on the Formation of the Character of a Youthful Princess. But there were a great many long words in it, so she turned to a story called Coalabs in Search of a Wife. It was about a young gentleman who wanted to get married, but who didn't feel sure that there were any young ladies nice enough for him. So he went about making visits, first to one, and then to another. And when he had stayed a few days at a house, he would always say, No, she won't do, and then he would go away. At last he found a young lady who seemed the very person, who visited the poor, and got up early in the morning, and always wore white, and never forgot to wind up her watch or do her duty. And Elsie almost thought that now the difficult young gentleman must be satisfied and say, This is the very thing. When low, her attention wandered a little, and the next thing she knew she was rolling off the lounge for the second time in company with Mrs. Hannah Moore. They landed in the chairs, and Johnny ran and picked them both up. All together, lying on the best parlor sofa was not very restful, and as the day went on and the sun beating on the blindless windows made the room hotter, Elsie grew continually more and more feverish and homesick and disconsolate. Meanwhile, Johnny was kept in occupation by Mrs. Ward, who had got the idea firmly fixed in her mind that the chief joy of a child's life was to chase chickens. Never a hen fluttered past the kitchen door, which was about once in three minutes. She would cry, Here, Johnny, here's another chicken for you to chase, and poor Johnny would feel obliged to dash out into the sun. Being a very polite little girl, she did not like to say to Mrs. Ward that running in the heat was disagreeable, so by dinner time she was thoroughly tired out, and would have been cross if she had known how. But she didn't. Johnny was never cross. After dinner it was even worse, for the sun was hotter and the chickens, who didn't mind the sun, seemed to be walking all the time. Harry, Johnny, there's another, came so constantly, that at last Elsie grew desperate, got up and went to the kitchen with a languid appeal. Please, Mrs. Ward, won't you let Johnny stay by me because my headache's so hard? After that, Johnny had a rest, for Mrs. Ward was the kindest of women and had no idea that she was not amusing her little guest in the most delightful manner. A little before six, Elsie's head felt better, and she and Johnny put on their hats and went for a walk in the garden. There was not much to see. Heads of vegetables, a few curled bushes—that was all. Elsie was leaning against a pailing and trying to make out why the worried house had that queer tiptoe expression when a sudden loud grunt startled her, and something touched the top of her head. She turned, and there was an enormous pig standing on his hind legs on the other side of the pailing. He was taller than Elsie as he stood thus, and it was his cold nose which had touched her head. Somehow, appearing in this unexpected way, he seemed to the children like some dreadful wild beast. They screamed with fright and fled to the house, from which Elsie never ventured to stir again during their visit. John chased chickens at intervals, but it was a doubtful pleasure, and all the time she kept a weary eye on the distant pig. That evening, while Mrs. Ward slept and Mr. Ward smoked outside the door, Elsie felt so very miserable that she broke down altogether. She put her head in Johnny's lap as they sat together in the darkest corner of the room, and sobbed and cried, making as little noise as she possibly could. Johnny comforted her with soft pats and strokings, but did not dare to say a word for fear Mrs. Ward should wake up and find them out. When the morning came, Elsie's one thought was, would Alexander come for them in the afternoon? All day she watched the clock in the road with feverish anxiety. Oh, if Papa had changed his mind, had decided to let them stay for a week at Connick's section, what should she do? It was just possible to worry through and keep alive till afternoon, she thought, but if they were forced to spend another night in that feather-bed with those mosquitoes hearing the blue-shade rattling quiver hour after hour, she should die. She was sure she should die. But Elsie was not called upon to die, or even to discover how easy it is to survive a little discomfort. About five, her anxious watch was rewarded by the appearance of a cloud of dust, out of which presently emerged old Whitey's ears in the top of the well-known cariol. They stopped at the gate. There was Alexander, brisk and smiling, very glad to see his little misses again, and to find them so glad to go home. Mrs. Warrant, however, did not discover that they were glad. No, indeed. Elsie and John were much too polite for that. They thanked the old lady and said good-bye so pridly that, after they were gone, she told Mr. Warrant that it hadn't been a bit of trouble having them there, and she hoped they would come again. They enjoyed everything so much, only it was a pity that Elsie looked so peeked. And at that very moment, Elsie was sitting on the floor of the cariol, with her head in John's lap, crying and sobbing for joy that the visit was over and that she was on the way home. If only I lived to get there, she said, I'll never, no, never go into the country again, which was silly enough, but we must forgive her, because she was half-sick. How charming home did look with the family grouped in the shady porch, Katie and her white wrapper, clover with rose-buds in her belt, and everybody ready to welcome and pet the little absentees. There was so much hugging and kissing and much to tell of what had happened in the two days, how a letter had come from cousin Helen, how Daisy White had four kittens as White as herself, how Dory had finished his water-wheel, a wheel which turned in the bathtub and was really ingenious, Papa said. And Phil had swapped one of his Bantam chicks for one of Eugene's slacks, Bramaputras. It was not till they were all seated round the tea-table that anybody demanded an account of the visit. Elsie felt this a relief, and was just thinking how delicious everything was, from the sliced peaches to the clinking ice in the milk-pitcher, when Papa put the dreaded question. Well, Elsie, so you decided to come, after all. How was it? Why didn't you stay your week out? You look pale, it seems to me. Have you been enjoying yourself too much? Tell us all about it. Elsie looked at Papa, and Papa looked at Elsie. Dr. Carr's eyes twinkled just a little, but otherwise he was perfectly grave. Elsie began to speak, and to laugh, and to cry, and the explanation when it came was given in a mingled burst of all three. Oh, Papa, it was horrid! That is, Mrs. Wirt was just as kind as could be, but so fat, and oh, such a pig! I never imagined such a pig, and the calligot on that horrid sulphur was so slippery that I rolled up five times, and once I hurt myself real badly, and we had a feather bed, and I was so homesick that I cried all the evening. That must have been gratifying to Mrs. Wirt, put in Dr. Carr. Oh, she didn't know it, Papa. She was asleep and snoring so that nobody could hear. And the flies, such flies, Katie, and the mosquitoes, and our window wouldn't open till I put in a nail, and I'm so glad to get home. I never want to go into the country again. Never, never. Oh, if Alexander hadn't come. Why, Clover, what are you laughing for? And Dory, I think it's very unkind. And Elsie ran to Katie, hid her face, and began to cry. Never mind, darling, they didn't mean to be unkind. Papa, her hands are quite hot. You must give her something. Katie's voice shook a little, but she would not hurt Elsie's feelings by showing that she was amused. Papa gave Elsie something before she went to bed, a very mild dose, I fancy, for doctors, little girls, as a general rule, do not take medicine. And next day she was much better. As the adventures of the conic section visit leaked out bit by bit, the family laughed till it seemed as if they would never stop. Phil was forever enacting the pig, standing on his triumphant hind legs and patting Elsie's head with his nose. And many, and many a time, it will end like your visit to Mrs. Warrett, proved a useful check when Elsie was in a self-willed mood, and bent on some scheme which, for the moment, struck her as delightful. For one of the good things about our childish mistakes is that each one teaches us something, and so, blundering on, we grow wiser till, when the time comes, we are ready to take our places among the wonderful grown-up people who never make mistakes. End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 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 2. A New Year and a New Plan. When summer lingers on into October, it often seems as if winter, anxious to gatch a glimpse of her, hurries a little. And so, people are cheated out of their autumn. It was so that year. Almost as soon as it ceased to be hot, it began to be cold. The leaves, instead of drifting away in soft, dying colors like sunset clouds, turned yellow all at once, and were whirled off the trees in a single, gusty night, leaving everything bare and desolate. Thanksgiving came, and before the smell of the turkey was fairly out of the house, it was time to hang up stockings and dress the Christmas tree. They had a tree that year in honor of Katie's being downstairs. Cece, who had gone away to boarding school, came home, and it was all delightful, except that the days flew too fast. Clover said it seemed to her very queer that there was so much less time than usual in the world. She couldn't imagine what had become of it. There used to be plenty. And she was certain that Dory must have been tinkering all the clocks. They struck so often. It was just after New Year that Dr. Carr walked in one day with a letter in his hand, and remarked, Mr. and Mrs. Page are coming to stay with us. Mr. and Mrs. Page, repeated Katie, who are they, Papa? Did I ever see them? Once, when you were four years old and Elsie a baby. Of course you don't remember it. But who were they, Papa? Mrs. Page was your dear mother's second cousin, and at one time she lived in your grandfather's family and was like a sister to Mama and Uncle Charles. It is a good many years since I have seen her. Mr. Page is a railroad engineer. He is coming this way on business, and they will stop for a few days with us. Your cousin Olivia writes that she is anxious to see all you children. Have everything as nice as you can, Katie. Of course I will. What day are they coming? Thursday. No, Friday. Reply Dr. Kark insulting the letter. Friday evening at half past six. Order something substantial for tea that night, Katie. They'll be hungry after traveling. Katie worked with a will for the next two days. Twenty times at least. She went into the blue room to make sure that nothing was forgotten, repeating as if it had been a lesson in geography. Bath towels, face towels, matches, soap, candles, cologne, extra blanket, ink. A nice little fire was lighted in the bedroom on Friday afternoon, and a big beautiful one in the parlor, which looked very pleasant with the lamplit and clover's geraniums and china roses in the window. The tea-table was set with the best linen and the pink and white china. Debbie's muffins were very light. The crab-apple jelly came out of its mold clear and whole, and the cold chicken looked appetizing with its green wreath of parsley. There was stewed potato, too, and of course oysters. Everybody in Burnett had oysters for tea when company was expected. They were counted as special treat because they were rather dear, and could not always be procured. Burnett was a thousand miles from the sea, so the oysters were of the tin can variety. The cans gave the oysters a curious taste, tinny, or was it more like solder? At all events, Burnett people liked it and always insisted that it was a striking improvement on the flavor which oysters have on their native shores. Everything was as nice as could be when Katie stood in the dining room to take a last look at her arrangements, and she hoped Papa would be pleased, and that Mama's cousin would think her a good housekeeper. I don't want to have on my other jacket," observed Phil, putting his head in at the door. Need I? This is nice. Let me see," said Katie, gently turning him round. Well, it does pretty well. But I think I'd rather you should put on the other if you don't mind much. We want everything as nice as possible, you know, because this is Papa's company, and he hardly ever has any. Just one little sticky place isn't much," said Phil, rather gloomily, wetting his finger and rubbing at a shiny place in his sleeve. Do you really think I'd better? Well, then I will. That's a dear, kissing him. Be quick, Philly, for it's almost time they were here. And please tell Dory to make haste. It's ever so long since he went upstairs. Dory's an awful prank," remarked Phil, confidentially. He looks in the glass and makes faces if he can't get his parting straight. I wouldn't care so much about my clothes for a good deal. It's like a girl. Jim Slack says a boy who shines his hair up like that never will get to be president not if he lives a thousand years. Well, said Katie, laughing, it's something to be clean, even if you can't be president. She was not at all alarmed by Dory's recent reaction in favour of personal adornment. He came down pretty soon, very spick and span in his best suit, and asked her to fasten the blue ribbon under his collar, which she did most obligingly, though he was very particular as to the size of the bows and length of the ends and made her tie and re-tie more than once. She had just arranged it to suit him when a carriage stopped. There they are, she cried, run and open the door, Dory. Dory did so, and Katie following found Papa ushering in a tall gentleman and a lady who was not tall, but whose Roman nose and long neck and general air of style and fashion made her look so. Katie bent quite over to be kissed, but for all that she felt small and young and unformed as the eyes of Mama's cousin looked her over and over and through and through, and Mrs. Page said, Why, Philip, is it possible that this tall girl is one of yours? Dear me, how time flies! I was thinking of the little creatures I saw when I was here last. And this other great creature can't be Elsie. That might of a baby? Impossible, I cannot realise it. I really cannot realise it in the least. Won't you come to the fire, Mrs. Page? asked Katie rather timidly. Don't call me Mrs. Page, my dear. Call me Cousin Olivia. Then the newcomer rustled into the parlor, where Johnny and Phil were waiting to be introduced, and again she remarked that she couldn't realise it. I don't know why Mrs. Page is not realising it should have made Katie uncomfortable, but it did. Supper went off well. The guests ate and praised, and Dr. Carr looked pleased and said, We think Katie an excellent housekeeper for her age. At which Katie blushed and was delighted, till she caught Mrs. Page's eyes, fixed upon her, with a look of scrutiny and amusement, whereupon she felt awkward and ill at ease. It was so all evening. Emma's cousin was entertaining and bright and told lively stories, but the children felt that she was watching them and passing judgement on their ways. Children are very quick to suspect when older people hold within themselves these little private courts of inquiry, and they always resented. Next morning Mrs. Page sat by while Katie washed the breakfast things, fed the birds, and did various odd jobs about the room and house. My dear, she said at last, what a solemn girl you are. I should think from your face that you were at least five and thirty. Don't you ever laugh or frolic like other girls your age? Why my Lily, who is four months older than you, is a perfect child still, impulsive as a baby, bug-bling over with fun from morning till night. I've been shut up a good deal, said Katie, trying to defend herself. But I didn't know I was solemn. My dear, that's the very thing I complain of. You don't know it. You are all together ahead of your age. It's very bad for you, in my opinion. All this housekeeping and care for young girls like you and clover is wrong and unnatural. I don't like it. Indeed I don't. Oh, housekeeping doesn't hurt me a bit, protested Katie, trying to smile. We have lovely times. Indeed we do, Cousin Olivia. Cousin Olivia only pursed up her mouth and repeated, It's wrong, my dear. It's unnatural. It's not the thing for you. Depend upon it. It's not the thing. This was unpleasant. But what was worse had Katie known it. Mrs. Page had attacked Dr. Karp on the subject. He was quite troubled to learn that she considered Katie grave and care-worn, and unlike what girls of her age should be. Katie caught him looking at her with a puzzled expression. What is it, dear Papa? Do you want anything? No child. Nothing. What are you doing there? Mending the parlour curtain, eh? Can't old Mary attend to that and give you a chance to frisk about with the other girls? Papa! As if I wanted to frisk. I declare you're as bad as Cousin Olivia. She's always telling me that I ought to bubble over with mirth. I don't wish to bubble. I don't know how. I'm afraid you don't," said Dr. Carr with an odd sigh, which said Katie, wondering, what should Papa sigh for? Had she done anything wrong? She began to rack her brains in memory as to whether it could be this or that, or if not, what could it be? Such needless self-examination does no good. Katie looked more solemn than ever after it. All together Mrs. Page was not a favourite in the family. She had every intention of being kind to her cousin's children, so dreadfully in want of a mother of poor things. But she could not hide the fact that their ways puzzled and did not please her, and the children detected this as children always will. She and Mr. Page were very polite. They praised the housekeeping in the excellent order of everything, and said there were never better children in the world than John and Dorian Phil. But through all, Katie perceived the hidden disapproval, and she couldn't help feeling glad when the visit ended and they went away. With their departure, matters went back to their old train, and Katie forgot her disagreeable feelings. Papa seemed a little grave and preoccupied, but the doctors often are when they have bad cases to think of, and nobody noticed it particularly, or remarked that several letters came from Mrs. Page and nothing was heard of their contents except that cousin Olivia sent her love. So it was a shock when one day Papa called Katie into the study to tell of a new plan. She knew at once that it was something important when she heard his voice. It sounded so grave. Beside when he said, my daughter, he began, I want to talk to you about something which I have been thinking of. How would you and Clover like going away to school together? To school? To Mrs. Knight's? No, not to Mrs. Knight's, to a boarding school at the east where Lily Page has been for two years. Didn't you hear cousin Olivia speak of it when she was here? I believe I did, but Papa, you won't really. Yes, I think so, said Dr. Carr gently. Listen, Katie, and don't feel so badly, my dear child. I've thought the plan over carefully, and it seems to me a good one, though I hate to part from you. It is pretty much as your cousin says. These home-cares which I can't take from you while you are at home are making you old before your time. Heaven knows I don't want to turn you into a silly giggling miss, but I should like you to enjoy your youth while you have it, and not grow middle-aged before you're twenty. What is the name of the school? asked Katie. Her voice sounded a good deal like a sob. The girls call it the nunnery. It is at Hillsover, on the Connecticut River. Pretty cold, I fancy, but the air is sure to be good embracing. That is one thing which has inclined me to the plan. The climate is just what you need. Hillsover? Isn't there a college there, too? Yes, Aramouth College. I believe there is always a college where there is a boarding school, though why I can't for the life of me imagine. That's neither here nor there, however. I'm not afraid of your getting into silly scrapes as girls sometimes do. College scrapes? Why how could I? We don't have anything to do with the college, do we? said Katie, opening her candid eyes with such a wandering stare that Dr. Carr laughed and replied, No, my dear, not a thing. The term opens the third week in April, he went on. You must begin to get ready at once. Mrs. Hall has just fitted out CeCe so she can tell you what you will need. You'd better consult her to-morrow. But Papa, cried Katie, beginning to realize it. What are you going to do? Elsie's a darling, but she's so very little. I don't see how you can possibly manage. I'm sure you'll miss us and so will the children. I rather think we shall, said Dr. Carr with a smile, which ended in a sigh. But we shall do very well, Katie, never fear. Miss Finch will see to us. Miss Finch? Do you mean Mrs. Knight's sister-in-law? Yes. Her mother died in the summer, so she has no particular home now and is glad to come for a year and keep house for us. Mrs. Knight says she is a good manager, and I daresay she'll fill your place sufficiently well as far as that goes. We can't expect her to be you, you know. That would be unreasonable. Then Dr. Carr put his arm around Katie and kissed her so fondly, that she was quite overcome and clung to him crying, Oh, Papa, don't make us go. I'll frisk and be as young as I can, and not grow middle-aged or anything disagreeable if only you'll let us stay. Never mind what Cousin Olivia says she doesn't know. Cousin Helen wouldn't say so, I'm sure. On the contrary, Helen thinks well of the plan. Only she wishes the school were nearer, said Dr. Carr. No, Katie, don't coax. My mind is made up. It will do you and Clover both good, and once you are settled at Hillsover you'll be very happy, I hope. When Papa spoke in this decided tone it was never any use to urge him. Katie knew this and ceased her pleadings. She went to find Clover and tell her the news, and the two girls had a hearty cry together. A sort of clearing up shower it turned out to be, for when once they had wiped their eyes everything looked brighter, and they began to see a pleasant side to the plan. The travelling part of it will be very nice, pronounced Clover. He never went so far away from home before. Elsie, who was still looking very woeful, burst into tears afresh at this remark. Oh, don't darling, said Katie, think how pleasant it will be to send letters and to get them from us. I shall write to you every Saturday. Run for the big atlas, there's a deer, and let us see where we're going." Elsie brought the atlas, and the three heads bent eagerly over it, as Clover traced the route of the journey with her forefinger. How exciting it looked! There was the railroad, twisting and curving over half a dozen states. The black dots which followed it were towns and villages, all of which they would see. By and by the road made a bend and swept northward by the side of the Connecticut River and toward the hills. They had heard how beautiful the Connecticut Valley is. Only, think, we shall be close to it, remarked Clover, and we shall see the hills. I suppose they're very high, a great deal higher than the hill at Bolton. I hope so, laughed Dr. Carr, who came into the room just then. The hill at Bolton was one of his favorite jokes. When Mama first came to Burnett she had paid a visit to some friends at Bolton, and one day, when they were all out walking, they asked her if she felt strong enough to go to the top of the hill. Mama was used to hills, so she said yes, and walked on, very glad to find that there was a hill in this flat country, but wondering a little why they did not see it. At last she asked where it was, and behold, they had just reached the top. The slope had been so gradual that she had never found out that they were going up hill at all. Dr. Carr had told this story to the children, but had never been able to make them see the joke very clearly. In fact, when Clover went to Bolton, she was quite struck with the hill. It was so much higher than the sand-bank which boarded the lake at Burnett. There was a great deal to do to make the girls ready for school by the third week in April. Mrs. Hall was very kind, and her advice was sensible, though, except for Dr. Carr, the girls would hardly have had furs and flannels enough for so cold a place as hills over. Everything for winter as well as for summer had to be thought of, for it had been arranged that the girls should not come home for the autumn vacation, but should spend it with Mrs. Page. This was the hardest thing about the plan. Katie begged very hard for Christmas, but when she learned that it would take three days to come and three days to go, and that the holidays lasted less than a week, she saw it was of no use and gave up the idea. While Elsie tried to comfort herself by planning a Christmas box. The preparations kept them so busy that there was no time for anything else. Mrs. Hall was always wanting them to go with her to shops, or Mrs. Pettingill, demanding that they should try on linings, and so the days flew by. At last all was ready. The nice half-dozens of pretty underclothes came home from the sewing machine-women's, and were done up by Bridget, who dropped many a tear into the bluing water at the thought of the young ladies going away. Mrs. Hall, who was a good packer, put the things into the new trunks. Everybody gave the girls presents as if they had been bride starting on a wedding journey. Papas was a watch for each. They were not new, but the girls thought them beautiful. Katie said belonged to her mother. It was large and old-fashioned, with a finely wrought case. Clovers, which had been her grandmothers, was larger still. It had a quaint ornament on the back, a sort of true-love knot done in gold of different tints. The girls were excessively pleased with these watches. They wore them with guard chains of black, watered ribbon, and every other minute they looked to see what the time was. Elsie had been in Papas' confidence, so her presents were watch cases embroidered on perforated paper. Johnny gave Katie a case of pencils and clover a pen-knife with a pearl handle. Dory and Phil clubbed to buy a box of note-paper and envelopes, which the girls were requested to divide between them. Miss Pettengill contributed a bottle of ginger balsam and a box of a pot-a-lock salve to be used in case of possible chill- blanes. Old Mary's offering was a couple of needle-books, full of bright, sharp needles. I wouldn't give you scissors, she said, but you can't cut love or, for the matter of that anything else, with a needle. Miss Finch, the new housekeeper, arrived a few days before they started, so Katie had time to take her over the house and explain all the different things she wanted done and not done to secure Papas' comfort and the children's. Miss Finch was meek and gentle. She seemed glad of a comfortable home, and Katie felt that she would be kind to the boys and not Fred Deppie and drive her into marrying Alexander and going away, an event which Aunt Izzy had been used to predict. Now that all was settled, she and Clover found themselves looking forward to the change with pleasure. There was something new and interesting about it which excited their imaginations. The last evening was a melancholy one. Elsie had been too much absorbed in the preparations to realize her loss, but when it came to locking the trunks, her courage gave way altogether. She was in such a state of affliction that everybody else became afflicted, too. And there is no knowing what would have happened had not a parcel arrived by express and distracted their attention. The parcel was from Cousin Helen, whose things, like herself, had a lack of coming at the moment when most wanted. It contained two pretty silk umbrellas, one brown and one dark green, with Katie's initials on one handle and Clover's on the other. Opening these treasures and exclaiming over them helped the family through the evening wonderfully, and next morning there was such a bustle of getting off that nobody had time to cry. After the last kisses had been given and Philly, who had climbed on the horse-block, was clamoring for one more, just one more. Dr. Carr, looking at the sober faces, was struck by a bright idea, and Colling Alexander told him to hurry old-widey into the carry-all and drive the children down to Willett's Point, that they might wave their handkerchiefs to the boat as they went by. This suggestion worked like a charm on the spirits of the party. Phil began to caper, and Elsie and John ran in to get their hands. Half an hour later, when the boat rounded the Point, there stood the little crew, radiant with smiles, fluttering the handkerchiefs and kissing their hands as cheerfully as possible. It was a pleasant last look to the two who stood beside Papa on the deck, and as they waved back their greetings to the little ones, and then looked forward across the blue water to the unknown places they were going to see, Katie and Clover felt that the new life opened well, and promised to be very interesting indeed. CHAPTER III The journey from Burnett to Hillsover was a very long one. It took the greater part of three days, and as Dr. Carr was in a hurry to get back to his patience, they travelled without stopping, spending the first night on the boat and the second on a railroad train. Papa found this tiresome, but the girls, to whom everything was new, thought it delightful. They enjoyed their stateroom with its narrow shelves of beds as much as if it had been a baby house, and they too children playing in it. To tuck themselves away for the night in a car section seemed the greatest fun in the world. When older people fretted, they laughed. Everything was interesting, from the telegraph poles by the wayside to the faces of their fellow passengers. It amused them to watch people, and make up stories about them, where they were going and what relation they could be to each other. The strange people in their turn cast curious glances toward the bright, happy-faced sisters. But Katie and Clover did not mind that, or in fact notice it. They were too much absorbed to think of themselves, or the impression they were making on others. It was early on the third morning that the train, puffing and shrieking, ran into the Springfield Depot. Other trains stood waiting, and there was such a chorus of snorts and whistles and such clouds of smoke that Katie was half frightened. Papa, who was half asleep, jumped up and told the girls to collect their bags and books, for they were to breakfast here, and to meet Lily Page, who was going on to hills over with them. Do you suppose she is here already? asked Katie, tucking the railway-guide into the shawl-strap, and closing her bag with a snap. Yes, we shall meet her at the Massasoit. She and her father were to pass the night there. The Massasoit was close at hand, and in less than five minutes the girls and Papa were seated at a table in its pleasant dining-room. They were ordering their breakfast when Mr. Page came in accompanied by his daughter, a pretty girl with light hair, delicate, rather sharp features, and her mother's stylish ease of manner. Her travelling dress was simple but had the finish which a French dressmaker knows how to give a simple thing, and all its appointments—boots, hat, gloves, collar, neck-ribbon—were so perfect, each in its way, that Clover, glancing down at her own grey alpaca, and then at Katie's, felt suddenly contrived and shabby. Well, Lily, here they are, here are your cousins," said Mr. Page, giving the girls a cordial greeting. Lily only said, how do you do? Clover saw her glancing at the grey alpacas, and was conscious of a sudden flush. But perhaps Lily looked at something inside the alpaca. Over after a minute her manner changed and became more friendly. Did you order waffles? She asked. Waffles? No, I think not, replied Katie. Oh, why not? Don't you know how celebrated they are for waffles at this hotel? I thought everybody knew that. Then she tinkled her fork against her glass, and when the waiter came said, waffles, please, with an air which impressed Clover extremely. Lily seemed to her like a young lady in a story, so elegant and self-possessed. She wondered if all the girls at Hillsover were going to be like her. The waffles came, crisp and hot, with delicious maple syrup to eat on them, and the party made a satisfactory breakfast. Lily, in spite of all her elegance, displayed a wonderful appetite. You see, she explained to Clover, I don't expect to have another decent thing to eat till next September, not a thing, so I'm making the most of this. Accordingly she disposed of nine waffles in quick succession before she found time to utter anything further, except butter, please, or may I trouble you for the molasses? As she swallowed the last morsel, Dr. Carr, looking at his watch, said that it was time to start for the train, and they set off. As they crossed the street, Katie was surprised to see that Lily, who had seemed quite happy only a minute before, had begun to cry. After they reached the car, her tears increased to sobs. She grew almost hysterical. Oh! Don't make me go, Papa! she implored, clinging to her father's arm. I shall be so homesick. It will kill me. I know it will. Please let me stay. Please let me go home with you. Now, my darling, protested Mr. Page, this is foolish. You know it is. I can't help it, blubbered Lily, I can't help it. Oh! Don't make me go, don't, Papa, dear, I can't bear it. Katie and Clover felt embarrassed during the scene. They had always been used to considering tears as things to be rather ashamed of—to be kept back, if possible. Or if not, shed in private corners in dark closets or behind the bed in the nursery. To see the stylish Lily crying like a baby in the midst of a railway carriage, with strangers looking on, quite shocked them. It did not last long, however. The whistle sounded. The conductor shouted, all aboard. And Mr. Page, giving Lily a last kiss, disengaged her clinging arms, put her into the seat beside Clover, and hurried out of the car. Lily sobbed loudly for a few seconds. And she dried her eyes, lifted her head, adjusted her veil and the wrists of her three buttoned gloves, and remarked, I always go on in this way. Ma says I am a real cry-baby, and I suppose I am. I don't see how people can be calm and composed when they're leaving home, do you? You'll be just as bad tomorrow when you come to say good-bye to your Papa. Oh! I hope not! said Katie, because Papa would feel so badly. Lily stared. I shall think you real cold-hearted if you don't," she said in an offended tone. Katie took no notice of the tone, and before long Lily recovered from her petishness and began to talk about the school. Katie and Clover asked eager questions. They were eager to hear all that Lily could tell. You'll adore Mrs. Florence, she said, all the girls do. She's the most fascinating woman. She does just what she likes with everybody, why even the students think her perfectly splendid, and yet she's just as strict as she can be. No, strict with us girls. She never lets anyone call unless it's a brother or a first cousin, and then you have to have a letter from your parents asking permission. I wanted Ma to write and say that George Hickman might call on me. He isn't a first cousin exactly, but his father married Pa's sister-in-law's sister, so it's just as good. But Ma was real mean about it. She says I'm too young to have gentlemen coming to see me. I can't think why. There's so many girls have them who are younger than I. Which row are you going to room in? She went on. I don't know. Nobody told us that there were any rows. Oh, yes. Shaker Row and Quaker Row and Attic Row. Attic Row is the nicest because it's highest up and furthest away from Mrs. Florence. My room is in Attic Row. Annie Sillsby and I engaged at last term. You'll be in Quaker Row, I suppose. Most of the new girls are. Is that a nice row? Asked Clover, greatly interested. Pretty nice. It isn't so good as Attic, but it's ever so much better than Shaker, because there you're close to Mrs. Florence and can't have a bit of fun without her hearing you. I'd try to get the end room if I were you. Mary Andrews and I had it once. There's a splendid view of Barry Searle's window. Barry Searle's? Yes, President Searle's, you know, his youngest son. He's an elegant fellow. All the girls are cracked about him, perfectly cracked. The President's house is next door to the nunnery, you know, and Barry rooms at the very end of the back building, just opposite Quaker Row. It used to be such fun. He'd sit at his window when we'd sit at ours in silent study-hour, you know, and he'd pretend to read and all the time keep looking over the top of his book at us and trying to make us laugh. Once Mary did laugh right out, and Miss Jane heard her and came in. But Barry is just as quick as a flash and he ducked down under the window sill so she didn't see him. It was such fun. Who's Miss Jane? asked Katie. The horridest old thing. She's Mrs. Florence's niece and engaged to a missionary. Mrs. Florence keeps her on purpose to spy us girls and report when we break the rules. Oh, those rules! Just wait till you come to read them over. They're nailed up on all the doors—thirty-two of them—and you can't help breaking them if you try ever so much. What are they? What sort of rules? cried Katie and Clober in a breath. Oh, about being punctual to prayers and turning your mattress and smoothing over the undersheet before you leave your room and never speaking a word in the hall or in private study-hour and hanging your towel on your own nail in the washroom and all that. Washroom? What do you mean? said Katie aghast. At the head of Quaker Row, you know. All the girls wash there, except on Saturdays when they go to the bath-house. You have your own bowl and soap-dish and a hook for your towel. Why, what's the matter? How big your eyes are! I never heard anything so horrid, cried Katie when she had recovered her breath. Do you really mean that girls don't have wash stands in their own rooms? Still get used to it, all the girls do, responded Lily. I don't want to get used to it, said Katie, resolving to appeal to Papa. But Papa had gone into the smoking-car and she had to wait. Meantime Lily went on talking. If you have that end-room in Quaker Row, you'll see all the fun that goes on at commencement time. Mrs. Searls always has a big party, and you can look right in and watch the people at the supper-tables just as if you were there. Last summer Barry and Alpheus Seacum got a lot of cakes and mottos from the table and came out into the yard, and threw them up one by one to Rose Red and her roommate. They didn't have the end-room, though, but the one next to it. What a funny name—Rose Red, said Clover. Oh! Her real name is Rosemond Reading, but the girls call her Rose Red. She's the greatest witch in the school—not exactly pretty, you know, but sort of killing and fascinating. She's always getting into the most awful scrapes. Mrs. Florence would have expelled her long ago if she hadn't been such a favourite. And Mr. Reading's daughter, besides—he's a member of Congress, you know, and all that—and Mrs. Florence is quite proud of having Rose in her school. Barry Searls is so funny, she continued. His mother is a horrid old thing, and always interfering with him. Sometimes when he has a party of fellows in his room and they're playing cards, we can see her coming with her candle through the house, and when she gets to his door she tries it, and then she knocks and calls out, Abernafi, my son—and then the fellows whip the cards into their pockets and stick the bottles under the table, and get out their books and dictionaries like a flash, and when Barry unlocks the door, there they sit, studying away. And Mrs. Searls looks so disappointed. I thought I should die one night, Mary Andrews and I laughed so. I verily believe that if Dr. Carr had been present at this conversation he would have stopped at the next station and taken the girls back to Burnett. But he did not return from the smoking-car till the anecdotes about Barry were finished, and Lily had begun to get on Mrs. Florence. She's a sort of queen, you know. Everybody minds her. She's tall and always dresses beautifully. Her eyes are lovely, but when she gets angry they're perfectly awful. Rose Redd said she'd rather face a mad bull any day than Mrs. Florence in a fury, and Rose ought to know, for she's had more reprimands than any girl in school. How many girls are there? inquired Dr. Carr. There were forty-eight last term. I don't know how many there'll be this, for they say Mrs. Florence is going to give up. It's she who makes the school so popular. All this time the train was moving northward. With every mile the country grew prettier. The creek had not fairly opened, but the grass was green and the buds on the trees gave a tender, mislight color to the woods. The road followed the river, which here and there turned upon itself in long links and windings. Ranges of blue hills closed the distance. Now and then a nearer mountain rose, single and alone from the plain. The air was cool and full of brilliant zest, which the Western girls had never before tasted. Katie felt as if she were drinking champagne. She and Clover flew from window to window, exclaiming with such delight that Lily was surprised. I can't see what there is to make such a fuss about," she remarked. That's only deer-field. It's quite a small place. But how pretty it looks nestled in among the hills. Hills are lovely Clover, aren't they? These hills are nothing. You should see the white mountains," said the experienced Lily. Ma and I spent three weeks at the profile-house last vacation. It was perfectly elegant. In the course of the afternoon, Katie drew Papa away to a distant seat and confided her distress about the wash stands. Don't you think it is horrid, Papa? Aunt Izzy always said that it isn't ladylike not to take a sponge bath every morning, but how can we with forty-eight girls in the room? I don't see what we are going to do. I fancy I can arrange it. Don't be distressed, my dear," replied Dr. Carr, and Katie was satisfied. For when Papa undertook to arrange things, they were very apt to be done. It was almost evening when they reached their final stopping-place. Now, two miles in the stage, and then we're at the horrid old nunnery, said Lily. Ah, look at that snow! It never melts here till long after it's all gone at home. How I do hate this station. I'm going to be awfully homesick. I know I am. But just then she caught sight of the stage-coach which stood waiting, and her mood changed, for the stage was full of girls who had come by the other train. Hurrah! There's Mary Edwards and Mary Silver, she exclaimed, and I declare, Rose Red, oh, you precious darling, how do you do?" Scrambling up the steps she plunged at a girl with waving hair and a rosy mischievous face and began kissing her with a fusion. Rose Red did not seem equally enchanted. Well, Lily, how are you? She said, and then went on talking to a girl who sat by her side and whose hand she held, while Lily rushed up and down the line embracing and being embraced. She did not introduce Katie and Clover, and as Papa was outside on the driver's box they felt a little lonely and strange. All the rest were chattering merrily and were evidently well acquainted. They were the only ones left out. Clover watched Rose Red to whose face she had taken a fancy. It made her think of a pink carnation or of a twinkling wild rose with saucy whiskers of brown calyx. Whatever she said or did seemed full of a flavour especially her own. Her eyes, which were blue, and not very large, sparkled with fun and mischief. Her cheeks were round and soft like a baby's. When she laughed, two dimples broke their pink and made you want to laugh, too. A cunning white throat supported this pretty head as a stem supports a flower, and altogether she was like a flower, except that flowers don't talk and she talked all the time. What she said seemed droll for the girls about her were in fits of laughter, but Clover only caught a word now and then. The stage made such a noise. Suddenly Rose leaned forward and touched Clover's hand. What's your name? She said. You've got eyes like my sisters. Are you coming to the nunnery? Yes, replied Clover, smiling black. My name is Clover. Clover Carr. What a dear little name. It sounds just as you look. So it is your name, Rose Red, said Clover Shiley. It's a ridiculous name, protested Rose Red, tying to pout. Just then the stage stopped. Why, who's going to the hotel? cried the schoolgirls in a chorus. I am, said Dr. Carr, putting his head in at the door with a smile which captivated every girl there. Come, Katie. Come, Clover. I've decided that you shan't begin school till to-morrow. Oh, my! Don't I wish he was my pa? cried Rose Red. Then the stage moved on. Who are they? What's their name? asked the girls. They look nice. They're sort of cousins of mine, and they come from the west, replied Lily. Not I'm willing to own the relationship now that she perceived that Dr. Carr had made a favourable impression. Why on earth didn't you introduce them then? I declare that was just like you, Lily Page. Put in Rose Red indignantly, they looked so lonesome that I wanted to pat and stroke both of them. That little one has the sweetest eyes. Meantime, Katie and Clover entered the hotel, very glad of the reprieve, and of one more quiet evening alone with Papa. They needed to get their ideas straightened out and put to rights, after the confusions of the day and Lily's extraordinary talk. It was very evident that the nunnery was to be quite different from their expectations, but another thing was equally evident. It would not be dull, Rose Red by herself, and without anyone to help her, would be enough to prevent that. CHAPTER IV The night seemed short. For the girls, tired by their journey, slept like dormice. About seven o'clock, Katie was roused by the click of a blind, and opening her eyes, saw Clover standing in the window and peeping out through the half-open shutters. When she heard Katie move, she cried out, Oh, do come! It's so interesting! I can see the colleges and the church, and I guess the nunnery. Only I'm not quite sure, because the houses are all so much alike. Katie jumped up and hurried to the window. The hotel stood on one side of a green common planted with trees. The common had a lead-colored fence and gravel paths, which ran across it from corner to corner. Opposite the hotel was a long row of red buildings, broken by one or two brown ones with cupolas. These were evidently the colleges, and a large gray building with a spire was as evidently the church. But which one of the many white, green-blinded houses which filled the other sides of the common was the nunnery the girls could not tell? Clover thought it was one with a garden at the side, but Katie thought not, because Lily had said nothing of a garden. They discussed the point so long that the breakfast-bell took them by surprise, and they were forced to rush through their dressing as fast as possible so as not to keep Papa waiting. When breakfast was over, Dr. Carr told them to put on their hats and get ready to walk with him to the school. Clover took one arm and Katie the other, and the three passed between some lead-colored posts and took one of the diagonal paths which led across the common. "'That's the house,' said Dr. Carr, pointing. "'It isn't the one you picked out, Clover,' said Katie. "'No,' replied Clover, a little disappointed. The house Papa indicated was by no means so pleasant as the one she had chosen. It was a tall, narrow building with dormer windows in the roof, and a square porch supported by whitewashed pillars. A pile of trunks stood in the porch. From above came sounds of voices. Girls' heads were popped out of upper windows at the swinging of the gate, and as the door opened more heads appeared looking over the balusters from the hall above. The parlor into which they were taken was full of heavy, old-fashioned furniture, stiffly arranged. The sofa and chairs were covered with black hair-cloth and stood closely against the wall. Some books lay upon the table arranged two by two, each upper book being exactly at a right angle with each lower book. A bunch of dried grasses stood in the fireplace. There were no pictures except one portrait in oils of a forbidding old gentleman in a wig and glasses sitting with his finger majestically inserted in a half-open Bible. Altogether it was not a cheerful room, nor one calculated to raise the spirits of newcomers. And Katie, whose long seclusion had made her sensitive to the subject of rooms, shrank instinctively nearer papa's they went in. Two ladies rose to receive them. One, a tall, dignified person, was Mrs. Florence. The other she introduced as my assistant principal, Mrs. Nipson. Mrs. Nipson was not tall. She had a round face, pinched lips, and half-shut grey eyes. This lady is fully associated with me in the management of the school, explained Mrs. Florence. When I go she will assume entire control. Is that likely to be soon, inquired Dr. Carr, surprised, and not well pleased at the teacher of whom he had heard, and with whom he had proposed to leave his children, was planning to yield her place to a stranger? The time is not yet determined, replied Mrs. Florence. Then she changed the subject gracefully, but so decidedly that Dr. Carr had no chance for further question. She spoke of classes, and discussed what Katie and Clover were to study. Finally she proposed to take them upstairs to see their room. Papa might come too, she said. I daresay that Lily Page, who tells me that she is a cousin of yours, has described the arrangements of the house, she remarked to Katie. The room I have assigned to you is in the back building, Quaker Row, the girls call it. She smiled as she spoke, and Katie, meeting her eyes for the first time, felt that there was something in what Lily had said. Mrs. Florence was a sort of queen. They went upstairs. Some girls who were peeping over the ballister hurried away at their approach. Mrs. Florence shook her head at them. The first day is always one of license, she said, leading the way along in an uncarpeted entry to a door at the end, from which, by a couple of steps, they went down into a square room, round three sides of which ran a shelf, on which stood rows of wash bowls and pitchers. Above were hooks for towels. Katie perceived that this was the much-dreaded washroom. Our lavatory, remarked Mrs. Florence blandly. Opening from the washroom was a very long hall, lighted at each end by a window. The doors on either side were numbered one, two, three, and so on. Some of them were half open. As they went by, Katie and Clover caught glimpses of girls and trunks and beds strewed with things. At number six Mrs. Florence paused. Here is the room which I propose to give you, she said. Katie and Clover looked eagerly about. It was a small room, but the sun shone in cheerfully at the window. There was a maple bed-stead and table, a couple of chairs, and a row of hooks. That was all, except that in the wall was set a case of black-handled drawers, with cupboard doors above them. These take the place of a bureau and hold your clothes, explained Mrs. Florence, pulling out one of the drawers. I hope, when ones you are settled, you will find yourselves comfortable. The rooms are small, but young people do not require so much space as older ones. So indeed, your elder daughter, Dr. Carr, looks more advanced and grown up than I was prepared to find her. What did you say was her age? She is past sixteen, but she has been so long confined to her room by the illness of which I wrote, that you may probably find her behind in some respects. Which reminds me—this was very a draught of papa. I am anxious that she should keep up the system to which she has been accustomed at home. Among other things, sponge baths of cold water every morning, and as I see that the bedrooms are not furnished with wash-dands, I will ask your permission to provide one for the use of my little girls. Perhaps you will kindly tell me where I could look for it? Mrs. Florence was not pleased, but she could not object. So she mentioned a shop. Katie's heart gave a bound of relief. She thought number six, with a wash-stand, might be very comfortable. Its bareness and simplicity had the charm of novelty. Then there was something very interesting to her in the idea of a whole house full of girls. They did not stay long after seeing the room, but went off on a shopping excursion. House were few and far between at Hillsover, but they found a neat little maple wash-stand and rocking chair, and papa also brought a comfortable load chair with a slatted back and a cushion. This was for Katie. Never studied till your back aches, he told her. When you are tired, lie flat on the bed for half an hour, and tell Mrs. Florence that it was by my direction. Or Mrs. Nipson, said Katie, laughing rather ruefully. She had taken no fancy to Mrs. Nipson, and did not enjoy the idea of a divided authority. A hurried lunch at the hotel followed, and then it was time for Dr. Carter to go away. They all walked to the school together and said good-bye upon the steps. The girls would not cry, but they clung very tightly to papa, and put as much feeling into their last kisses as would have furnished forth half a dozen fits of tears. Lily might have thought them cold-hearted, but papa did not. He knew better. That's my brave girls, he said. Then he kissed them once more, and hurried away. Perhaps he did not wish them to see that his eyes, too, were a little misty. As the door closed behind them, Katie and Clover realised that they were alone among strangers. The sensation was not pleasant, and they felt forlorn as they went upstairs and down Quaker Row toward number six. Ah-ha! So you're going to be next door, said a gay voice as they passed number five, and Rose Redd popped her head into the hall. Well, I'm glad, she went on shaking hands cordially. I sort of thought you would, and yet I didn't know. And there are some awful stiffies among the new girls. How do you both do? Oh! Are we next door to you? cried Clover, brightening. Yes. It's rather good of me not to hate you, for I wanted the in-room myself, and Mrs. Florence wouldn't give it to me. Come in and let me introduce you to my roommate. It's against the rules, but that's no matter. Nobody pretends to keep rules the first day. They went in. Number five was precisely like number six, in shape, size, and furniture. But Rose had unpacked her trunk, and decorated the room with odds and ends of all sorts. The table was covered with books and boxes, coloured lithographs repinned on the walls. A huge blue rosette ornamented the headboard off the bed. The blinds were tied together with pink ribbon. Over the top of the window was a festoon of hemlock boughs, fresh and spicy. The effect was fantastic, but cheery. And Katie and Clover exclaimed with one voice, How pretty! The roommate was a pale, shy girl, with a half-scared look in her eyes, and small hands which twisted uneasily together when she moved and spoke. Her name was Mary Silver. She and Rose were so utterly unlike that Katie thought it odd they should have chosen to be together. Afterward she understood it better. Rose liked to protect, and Mary to be protected. Rose to talk, and Mary to listen. Mary evidently considered Rose the most entertaining creature in the world. She giggled violently at all her jokes, and then stopped short and covered her mouth with her fingers in a frightened way, as if giggling were wrong. Only think Mary began Rose after introducing Katie and Clover. These young ladies have got the end-room. What do you suppose was the reason that Mrs. Florence did not give it to us? It's very peculiar. Mary laughed, her uneasy laugh. She looked as if she could tell the reason, but did not dare. Never mind, continued Rose. Trials are good for one, they say. It's something to have nice people in the room if we can't be there ourselves. You are nice, aren't you? Turning to Clover. Very, replied Clover, laughing. I thought so. I can almost always tell without asking. Still, it is something to have it on the best authority. We'll be good neighbours, won't we? Look here! She pulled one of the black-handled drawers completely out and laid it on the bed. Do you see? Your drawers are exactly behind ours. At any time in silent study-hour, if I have something to say, I'll wrap and pop a note into your drawer, and you can do the same to me. Isn't it fun? Clover said yes, but Katie, though she laughed, shook her head. Don't entice us into mischief, she said. Oh, gracious! exclaimed Rose. Now are you going to be good, you two? If you are, just break the news at once and have it over. I can bear it. She found herself in such a comical way that no one could help laughing. Katie Silver joined, but stopped pretty soon in her sudden manner. There's Mary now, went on Rose. She's a paragon. But if any more are coming into the entry, just give me fair notice and I pack and move up among the sinners in Attic Row. Somehow you don't look like Paragons, either. You especially, nodding to Clover. Your eyes are like violets, but so are Sylveas, that's my sister, and she's the greatest witch in Massachusetts. Eyes are dreadfully deceitful things. As for you, to Katie, you're so tall that I can't take you in all at once, but the piece I see doesn't look dreadful a bit. Rose was sitting in the window as she made these remarks, and leaning forward suddenly she gave a pretty blushing nod to someone below. Katie glanced down and saw a handsome young man replacing the cap he had lifted from his head. That's Barry Searles, said Rose. He's the president's son, you know. He always comes through the side-yard to get to his room. That's it. The one with a red curtain. It's exactly opposite your window, don't you see? So it is, exclaimed Katie, remembering what Lily had said. Oh, was that the reason she stopped afraid of being rude? The reason we wanted the room, inquired Rose coolly. Well, I don't know. It hadn't occurred to me to look at it in that light. Mary, with sudden severity, is it possible that you had Barry Searles in your mind when you were so pertinacious about that room? Rose, how can you? You know I never thought of such a thing, protested poor Mary. I hope not. Otherwise I should feel it my duty to consult with Mrs. Florence on the subject, went on Rose, with an air of dignified admonition. I consider myself responsible for you and your morals, Mary. Let us change this painful subject. She looked gravely at the three girls for a moment. Then her lips began to twitch, the irresistible dimples appeared in her cheeks, and throwing herself back in her chair, she burst into a fit of laughter. Oh, Mary, you blessed goose! Some day or other you'll be the death of me. Dear, dear, how I am behaving. It's perfectly horrid of me, and I didn't mean it. I am going to be real good this term. I promised mother. Please forget it and don't take it to slack to me and never come again," she added coaxingly as Katie and Clover rose to go. Indeed we won't," replied Katie. As for sensible Clover, she was already desperately in love with Rose on that very first day. After a couple of hours of hard work, Number Six was in order, and looked like a different place. Fringed towels were laid over the wash stand and the table. Dr. Carr's photograph and some pretty cromos ornamented the walls. The living chair and the study chair stood by the window. The trunks were hidden by chins covers made for the purpose by old Mary. On the window sill stood Cousin Helen's vase, which Katie had brought carefully packed among her clothes. Now, she said, tying the blinds together with a knot of ribbon in imitation of Rose's reds. When we get a bunch of wildflowers for my vase, we shall be all right. A tap at the door. Rose entered. Are you done? she asked. May I come in and see? Oh, this is pretty, she exclaimed, looking about. How you can tell in one minute what sort of a girl one is just by looking at her room. I should know you had been neat and dainty and housecuberly all your days. And you would see in a minute that I am a mad wildfire, and that Ellen Gray is a saint, and Sally Satterley is a scatterbrain, and Lily Page an affected little hum— Oh, I forgot. She's your cousin, isn't she? How dreadfully rude of me, dimpling at Clover, who couldn't help dimpling back again. Oh, my! She went on. A wash stand! Claire, where did you get it? Papa bought it, explained Katie. He asked Mrs. Florence's permission. How bright of him! I shall just write to my father to ask for permission, too. Which he did. And the result was that it set the ration of wash stands, and so many papas wrote to ask permission that Mrs. Florence found it necessary to give up the lavatory system, and provide wash stands for the whole house. Katie's request had been an opening wedge. I do not think this fact made her more popular with the principles. By the way, where is Lily? asked Katie. I've seen her today. Do you want to know? I can tell you. She is sitting on the edge of one chair with her feet on the rung of another chair, and her head on the shoulder of her roommate, who is dying to get away and arrange her drawers. And she is crying. How do you know? Have you been up to see her? Oh, I haven't seen her. It isn't necessary. I saw her last term and the term before. She always spends the first day at school in that way. I'll take you up, if you'd like to examine for yourselves. Katie and Clover, much amused, followed as she led the way upstairs. Sure enough, Lily was sitting exactly as Rose had predicted. Her face was swollen from crying. When she saw the girls, her sobs redoubled. Oh, isn't it dreadful, she demanded. I shall die. I know I shall. Oh, why did Pa make me come? Now, Lily, don't be an idiot, said the unsympathizing Rose. Then she sat down and proceeded to make a series of the most grotesque faces, winging her eyes and twinkling her fingers round the head of Niob, as she called Lily, till the other girls were in fits of laughter and Niob, though she shrugged her shoulders pettishly and said, Don't be so ridiculous, Rose, red, was forced to give way. First she smiled, then a laugh was heard. Afterward she announced that she felt better. That's right, Niob, said Rose. Wash your face now and get ready for tea, for the bell is just going to ring. As for you, Annie, you might as well put your drawers in order, with a wicked wink. Annie hurried away with a laugh which she tried in vain to hide. You heartless creature!" cried the exasperated Lily. I believe you're made of marble. You haven't one bit of feeling, nor you either, Katie. You haven't cried a drop. Given this problem, said the provoking Rose, when the nose without is as red as a lobster, what must be the temperature of the heart within, and vice versa? The tea-bell rang just in time to overt a fresh flood of tears from Lily. She brushed her hair in angry haste, and they all hurried down by a side staircase which, as Rose explained, the school girls were expected to use. The dining-room was not large. Only part of the girls could be seated at a time, so they took turns at dining at the first table, half one week and half the next. Mrs. Nipson sat at the tea-tree with Mrs. Florence beside her. At the other end of the long board sat a severe-looking person, whom Lily announced in a whisper as that horrid Miss Jane. The meal was very simple—tea, bread and butter and dried beef. It was eaten in silence. The girls were not allowed to speak except to ask for what they wanted. Rose read, indeed, who sat next to Mrs. Florence, talked to her, and even ventured once or twice on daring little jokes, which caused clover to regard her with admiring astonishment. No one else said anything except, butter, please, or, pass the bread. As they filed upstairs after this cheerless meal, they were met by Rose of hungry girls who were waiting to go down, and who whispered, How long you've been? What's for tea? The evening passed in making up classes and arranging for recitation-rooms and study-hours. And he was glad when bedtime came. The day, with all its new impressions and strange faces, seemed to her like a confused dream. She and clover undressed very quietly. Among the printed rules, which hung on the bedroom door, they read, All communication between roommates after the retiring bell has rung is strictly prohibited. Just then it did not seem difficult to keep this rule. It was only after the candle was blown out that clover ventured to whisper, Very low indeed, for who knew but Miss Jane was listening outside the door. Do you think we're going to like it?" And Katie, in the same cautious whisper, responded, I'm not quite sure. And so ended the first day at the nunnery. CHAPTER V. ROSES AND THORNES Oh, what is it? What has happened? cried Clover, starting up in bed the next morning as a clanging sound roused her suddenly from sleep. It was only the rising bell, ringing at the end of Quaker Row. Katie held her watch up to the dim light. She could just see the hands. Yes, they pointed to six. It was actually morning. She and Clover jumped up and began to dress as fast as possible. We've only got half an hour, said Clover, unhooking the rules and carrying them to the window. Half an hour, and this says that we must turn the mattress, smooth the undersheet over the bolster, and spend five minutes in silent devotion. We'll have to be quick to do all that besides dressing ourselves. It is never easy to be quick when one is in a hurry. Everything sets itself against you. Fingers turn into thumbs, dresses won't button, nor pins keep their place. With all their haste, Katie and Clover were barely ready when the second bell sounded. As they hastened downstairs, Katie fastened her breastpin and Clover her cuffs. They met other girls, some looking half asleep, some half dressed, all yawning, rubbing their eyes and complaining of the early hour. "'Isn't it horrid?' said Lily Page, hurrying by with no collar on in her hair, hastily tucked into a net. I never get up till nine o'clock when I'm at home. Ma saves my breakfast for me. She says I shall have my sleep out while I have the chance.' "'You don't look quite awake now,' remarked Clover. "'No, because I haven't washed my face. Half the time I don't, before breakfast. There's that old mattress that has to be turned, and when I sleep over I just do that first and then scramble my clothes on best way I can, anything not to be marked.' After prayers and breakfasts were done, the girls had half an hour for putting their bedrooms to rights, during which interval it is to be hoped that Lily found time to wash her face. After that, lessons began, and lasted till one o'clock. Dinner followed, with an hour's recreation, then the bell rang for silent study-hour, when the girls sat with their books in their bedrooms, but were not allowed to speak to each other. Next came a walk. "'Who are you going to walk with?' asked Rose Redd, meeting Clover in Quaker Row. "'I don't know. Katie, I guess. Are you really? You and she like each other, don't you? Do you know you're the first sisters I ever knew at school who did? Generally they quarrel awfully. The Stearns' girls, who were here last term, scarcely spoke to each other. They didn't even room together, and Sarah Stearns was always telling tales against Sue and Sue against Sarah. "'How disgusting! I never heard of anything so mean,' cried Clover indignantly. Why, I wouldn't tell tales about Katie if we quarreled ever so much. We never do, though. Katie is so sweet." "'I suppose she is,' said Rose, rather doubtfully. But do you know? I'm sort of afraid of her. It's because she's so tall. Tall people always scare me. And then she looks so grave and grown up. Don't tell her I said so, though, for I want her to like me.' "'Oh, she isn't a bit graver grown up. She's the funniest girl in the world. Wait till you know her,' replied Loyal Clover. "'I'd give anything if I could walk with you part of this term,' went on Rose, putting her arm around Clover's waist. But you see, unluckily, I'm engaged straight through. All of us old girls are. I walk with May Mather this week and next, then Esther Dearborn for a month, then Lily Page for two weeks, and all the rest of the time with Mary. I can't think why I promised Lily. I'm sure I don't want to go with her. I'd ask Mary to let me off, only I'm afraid she'd feel bad. I say, suppose we engage now to walk with each other for the first half of next term.' "'Why, that's not till October,' said Clover. "'I know it. But it's nice to be beforehand. Will you?' "'Of course I will, provided that Katie has somebody pleasant to go with,' replied Clover, immensely flattered at being asked by the popular Rose. They ran downstairs and took their places in the long procession of girls who were ranged two and two, ready to start. Miss Jane walked at the head, and Miss Marsh, another teacher, brought up the rear. Rose red whispered that it was like a funeral and a caravan mixed, as cheerful as herces at both ends and wild beasts in the middle. The walk was along a wooded road, a mile out and a mile back. The procession was not permitted to stop or straggle, or take any of the liberties which make walking pleasant. Still, Katie and Clover enjoyed it. There was a spring smell in the air, and the woods were beginning to be pretty. They even found a little trailing arbitress blossoming in a sunny hollow. Lily was just in front of them and amused them with histories of different girls, whom she pointed out in the long line. That was Esther Dearborn, Rose Red's friend. Handsome, wasn't she? But awfully sarcastic. The two next were Amy Alsop and Ellen Gray. They always walked together because they were so intimate. Yes, they were nice enough, only so distressingly good. Amy did not get one single mark last term. That child with pigtails was Bella Arkwright. Why on earth did Katie want to know her? She was a nasty little thing. She's just about Elsie's height, replied Katie. Who's that pretty girl with pink velvet on her hat? Near me. Do you think she's pretty? I don't. Her name is Louisa Agnew. She lives at Ashburn, quite near us. But we don't know them. Her family are not at all in good society. What a pity! She looks sweet and ladylike. Lily tossed her head. They're quite common people, she said. They live in a little might of a house, and her father paints portraits. But I should think that would be nice. Doesn't she ever take you to see his pictures? Take me! cried Lily indignantly. I should think not. I tell you, we don't visit. I just speak when we're here, but I never see her when I'm at home. Move on, young ladies. What are you stopping for? cried Miss Jane. Yes, move on, muttered Rose Redd from behind. Don't you hear, policeman X? From walking hour till tea-time was recreation again. Lily improved this opportunity to call it number six. She had waited to see how the girls were likely to take in school before committing herself to intimacy. But now that Rose Redd had declared in their favour, she was ready to begin to be friendly. How lovely! she said, looking about. You got the end-room, after all, didn't you? What splendid times you'll have! Oh! how plainly you can see Barry Searle's window! Has he spoken to you yet? Spoken to us, of course not. Why should he? replied Katie. He doesn't know us, and we don't know him. That's nothing. Half the girls in the school bow and speak and carry on with young men they don't know. You won't have a bit of fun if you're so particular. I don't want that kind of fun, replied Katie, with energy in her voice. Neither does Clover. And I can't imagine how the girls can behave so. It isn't ladylike at all. Katie was very fond of this word—ladylike. She always laid great stress upon it. It seemed in some way to be connected with cousin Helen, and to mean every thing that was good and graceful and sweet. Dear me, I had no idea you were so dreadfully proper, said Lily, pouting. Mother said you were as prim and precise as your grandmother, but I didn't suppose—how unkind!—broken Clover taking fire as usual at any affront to Katie. Katie, prim and precise? She isn't a bit. She's twice as much fun as the rest of you girls. But it's nice fun, not this horrid stuff about students. I wish your mother wouldn't say such things. I didn't. She didn't. I don't mean exactly that, stammered Lily, frightened by Clover's indignat eyes. All I meant was that Katie's dreadfully dignified for her age, and we bad girls will have to look out. You needn't be so mad, Clover. I'm sure it's very nice to be proper and good, and set an example. I don't want to preach to anybody, said Katie, colouring. But I wasn't thinking about examples. But really and truly, Lily, wouldn't your mother and all the girls' mothers be shocked if they knew about these performances here? Gracious, I should think so. Ma would kill me. I wouldn't have her know of my goings-on for all the world. Just then Rose pulled out a drawer and called through to ask if Clover would please come in and help her a minute. Lily took advantage of her absence to say, I came on purpose to ask you to walk with me for four weeks, will you? Thank you, but I'm engaged to Clover. To Clover? But she's your sister. You can get off. I don't want to get off. Clover and I dearly like to go together. Lily stared. Well, I never heard of such a thing. She said, you're really romantic. The girls will call you the inseparables. I wouldn't mind being inseparable from Clover, said Katie laughing. Next day was Saturday. It was nominally a holiday, but so many tasks were set for it that it hardly seemed like one. The girls had to practice in the gymnasium to do their mending and have all drawers in apple pie order before afternoon when Miss Jane went through the rooms on a tour of inspection. Saturday also was the day for writing home letters. So all together it was about the busiest of the week. Early in the morning Miss Jane appeared in Quaker Row with some slips of paper in her hand, one of which she left at each door. They told the hours at which the girls were to go to the bath-house. You will carry each a crashed towel, a sponge, and soap, she announced to Katie, and will be in the entry at the foot of the stairs at twenty-five minutes after nine precisely. Failures and punctuality will be punished by a mark. Miss Jane always delivered her words like a machine, and closed her mouth with a snap at the end of a sentence. Horrid thing! Don't I wish her missionary would come and carry her off? Not that I blame him for staying away, remarked Rose Red from her door, making a face at Miss Jane as she walked down the entry. I don't understand about the bath-house, said Katie. Does it belong to us? And where is it? No, it doesn't belong to us. It belongs to Mr. Parrot, and anybody can use it. Only on Saturday it is reserved for us nuns. Didn't you ever notice it when we've been out walking? It's in that street by the bakery, which we pass to take the Lebanon road. We go across the green and down by Professor Seacams, and we are in plain sight from the college all the way, and of course those abominable boys sit there with spy-glasses and stare as hard as ever they can. It's perfectly horrid. A crashed towel, a sponge, and soap, indeed. I wish I could make Miss Jane eat the pieces of soap which she has forced me to carry across this village. Oh, Rose!" remonstrated Mary Silver, while I do. And the crashed towels afterward, by way of dessert, replied the incorrigible Rose. Never mind. Just wait! A bright idea strikes me. Oh! What! cried the other three. But Rose only pursed up her mouth, arched her eyebrows, and vanished into her own room, locking the door behind her. Mary Silver, finding herself shut out, sat down meekly in the hall till such time as it should please Rose to open the door. This was not till the bath-hour. As Katie and Clover went by, Rose put her head out and called that she would be down in a minute. The bathing-party consisted of eight girls, with Miss Jane for escort. They were half-way across the common before Miss Jane noticed that everybody was shaking with stifled laughter, except Rose, who walked along demurely, apparently unconscious that there was anything to laugh at. Miss Jane looked sharply from one to another for a moment, then stopped short and exclaimed, Rosamond Reading, how dare you! What is it, ma'am? asked Rose, with the face of a lamb. Your bath-towel, your sponge! gasped Miss Jane. Yes, ma'am, I have them all, replied the audacious Rose, putting her hand to her hat. There, to be sure, was the long crash-towel hanging down behind like a veil, while the sponge was fashioned on one side like a great coquette, and in front appeared a cake of pink soap, neatly pinned into the middle of a black velvet bow. Miss Jane seized Rose and removed these ornaments in a twinkling. We shall see what Mrs. Florence thinks of this conduct, she grimly remarked. Then dropping the soap and sponge in her own pocket, she made Rose walk beside her, as if she were a criminal in custody. The bath-house was a neat place, with eight small rooms, well supplied with hot and cold water. Katie would have found her bath very nice, had it not been for the thought of the walk home. They must look so absurd, she reflected, with their sponges and damp towels. Miss Jane was as good as her word. After dinner, Rose was sent for by Mrs. Florence, and had an interview of two hours with her. She came out with red eyes, and shut herself into her room with a disconsolate bang. Before long, however, she revived sufficiently to tap on the drawers, and pushed through a note with the following words. My heart is broken, R.R. Clover hastened in to comfort her. Rose was sitting on the floor, with a very clean pocket handkerchief in her hand. She wept and put her head against Clover's knee. I suppose I'm the nastiest girl in the world, she said. Mrs. Florence thinks so. She said I was an evil influence in the school. Wasn't that unkind? With a little sob. I meant to be so good this term, she went on. But what's the use? A codfish might as well try to play the piano. It was always so, even when I was a baby. Sylvia says I have got a little fiend inside of me. Is it that makes me so horrid? Clover purred over her. She could not bear to have Rose feel badly. Wasn't Miss Jane funny, went on Rose with a sudden twinkle, and did you see Barry and Alfred Seacom? No. Where were they? Close to us, standing by the fence. All the time Miss Jane was unpinning the towel, they were splitting their sides, and Barry made such a face at me that I nearly laughed out. That boy has a perfect genius for faces. He used to frighten Sylvia and me into fits when we were little tauts up here on visits. Then you knew him before you came to school? Oh, dear, yes, I know all the hills over, boys. We used to make mud pies together. They're grown up now, most of them, and in college, and when we meet we're very dignified and say, Miss Redding, and Mr. Seacom, and Mr. Searls, but we're just as good friends as ever. When I go to take tea with Mrs. Seacom, Alfred always invites Barry to drop in, and we have the greatest fun. Mrs. Florence won't let me go this term, though I guess she's so mad about the towel. Katie was quite relieved when Clover reported this conversation. Rose, for all her wickedness, seemed to be a little lady. Katie did not like to class her among the girls who flirted with students whom they did not know. It was wonderful how soon they all settled down and became accustomed to their new life. Before six weeks were over, Katie and Clover felt as if they had lived at hills over for years. This was partly because there was so much to do. Nothing makes time fly like having every moment filled and every hour set apart for a distinct employment. They made several friends, chief among whom were Ellen Gray and Louisa Agnew. This last intimacy Lily resented highly and seemed to consider as an affront to herself. With no one, however, was Katie so intimate as Clover was with Rose Red. This cost Katie some jealous pangs at first. She was so used to considering Clover her own exclusive property that it was not easy to share her with another, and she had occasional fits of feeling resentful and injured and left out. These were but momentary, however. Katie was too healthy of mind to let unkind feelings grow, and by and by she grew fond of Rose and Rose of her, so that in the end the sisters shared the friend as they did other nice things, and neither of them was jealous of the other. But charming as she was, a certain price had to be paid for the pleasure of intimacy with Rose. Her overflowing spirits and the little fiend inside her were always provoking scrapes in which her friends were apt to be more or less involved. She was very penitent and afflicted after these scrapes, but it didn't make a bit of difference. The next time she was just as naughty as ever. What are you?" said Katie one day, meeting her in the hall with a heap of black shawls and aprons on her arm. Hush! whispered Rose mysteriously. Don't say a word. Senator Brown is dead. Our senator, you know. I'm going to put my window into mourning for him, that's all. It's a proper token of respect. Two hours later, Mrs. Nipson, walking sedately across the common, noticed quite a group of students in the president's yard looking up at the nunnery. She drew nearer. They were admiring Rose's window, hung with black, and decorated with a photograph of the deceased senator, suspended in the middle of a wreath of weeping willow. Of course she hurried upstairs and tore down the shawls and aprons, and equally, of course, Rose had a lecture and a mark. But dear me, what good did it do? The next day but one, as Katie and Clover sat together in silent study-hour, their lower drawer was pushed open very noiselessly and gently till it came out entirely and lay on the floor, and in the aperture thus formed appeared Rose's saucy face, flushed with mischief. She was crawling through from her own room. Such fun! she whispered. I never thought of this before. We can have parties and study-hours and all sorts of things. Oh, go back, Rosie! whispered Clover and agonized in treaty, though laughing all the time. Go back! Not at all! I'm coming in! answered Rose, pulling herself through a little farther. But at that moment the door opened. There stood Miss Jane. She had caught the buzz of voices as she passed in the hall and had entered to see what was going on. Rose, dreadfully frightened, made a rapid movement to withdraw, but the space was narrow and she had wedged herself and could move neither backward nor forward. She had to submit to being helped through by Miss Jane in a series of pulls, while Katie and Clover sat by, not daring to laugh or to offer assistance. When Rose was on her feet Miss Jane released her with a final shake, which she seemed unable to refrain from giving. Go to your room! She said, I shall report all of you young ladies for this flagrant act of disobedience. Rose went, and in two minutes the drawer, which Miss Jane had replaced, opened again. And there was this note. If I've never heard of more, give my love to my family and mention how I died. I forgive my enemies and leave Clover my banned bracelets. My blessings on you both. With the deepest regard, your afflicted friend, R.R. Mrs. Florence was very angry on this occasion and would listen to no explanations, but gave Katie and Clover a disobedience mark also. This was very unfair, and Rose felt dreadfully about it. She begged and entreated, but Mrs. Florence only replied, There is blame on both sides, I have no doubt. She's entirely changed from what she used to be, declared Rose. I don't know what's the matter. I don't like her half so much as I did. The truth was that Mrs. Florence had secretly determined to give up her connection with the school at mid-summer, and regarding it now rather as Mrs. Nipson's school than her own, she took no pains to study character or meet out justice carefully among scholars with whom she was not likely to have much to do. CHAPTER VI. 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 VI. The SSUC. It was Saturday afternoon, and Clover, having finished her practicing, dusting, and mending, had settled herself in number six for a couple of hours of quiet enjoyment. Everything was in beautiful order to meet Miss Jane's inspecting eye, and Clover, as she sat in the rocking chair, writing case and lap, looked extremely cozy and comfortable. A half-finished letter to Elsie lay in the writing case, but Clover felt lazy, and instead of writing was looking out of the window in a dreamy way, to where Barry Sturles and some other young men were playing ball in the yard below. She was not thinking of them, or of anything else in particular, a vague sense of pleasant idleness possessed her, and it was like the breaking of a dream, when the door opened and Katie came in, not quietly after her want, but with a certain haste and indignant rustle as if vexed by something. When she saw Clover at the window, she cried out hastily, Oh! Clover, don't! Don't what? asked Clover, without turning her head. Don't sit there looking at those boys. Why? Why not? They can't see me. The blinds are shut. No matter for that. It's just as bad as if they could see you. Don't do it. I can't bear to have you. Well, I won't, then, said Clover, good-humoredly, facing round with her back to the window. I wasn't looking at them, either, not exactly. I was thinking about Elsie and John, and wondering, But what's the matter, Katie? What makes you fire up so about it? You've watched the ball playing yourself plenty of times. I know I have, and I didn't mean to be cross-clovy. The truth is, I'm all put out. These girls with incessant talk about the students make me absolutely sick. It is so unladylike, and so bad, especially for the little ones. Fancy that little might of a Carrie Steele informing me that she is in love with Harry Crosby. In love! A baby like that! She has no business to know that there is such a thing." Yes, said Clover, laughing, she wrote his name on a wintergreen lozenge, and bored a hole and hung it round her neck on a blue ribbon. But it melted and stuck to her frock, and she had to take it off. Whereupon she ate it, added Rose, who came in at that moment. The girl shouted, but Katie soon grew grave. One can't help laughing, she said. But isn't it a shame to have such things going on? What fancy are Elsie behaving so, Clover? Why, Papa would have a fit. I declare, I have a great mind to get up a society to put down flirting. Do, said Rose, what fun it would be. Call it the Society for the Suppression of Young Men. I'll join. You indeed," replied Katie, shaking her head. Didn't I see Barry Searle throw a bunch of syringia into your window only this morning? Dear me, did he? I shall have to speak to Mary again. It's quite shocking to have her go on so. It really and truly do let us have a society. It would be so jolly. We could meet on Saturday afternoons and write pieces and have signals and a secret, as Sylvia Society did when she was at school. Get one up, Katie. That's a dear." But, said Katie, taken aback by having her random ideas so suddenly adopted, if I did get one up, it would be in real earnest, and it would be a society against flirting. And you know you can't help it, Rosie. Yes, I can. You are doing me great injustice. I don't behave like those girls in Attic Row. I never did. I just bow to Barry and the rest whom I really know—never to anybody else. And you must see, Catherine Darling, that it would be the height of ingratitude if I didn't bow to the boys who made mud pies for me when I was little, and let me their marbles and did all sorts of kind things. Now wouldn't it? Coaxingly. Perhaps—admitted Katie with a smile—but you're such a witch. I'm not. Indeed I am not. I'll be a pillar of society if only you'll provide a society for me to be a pillar of. Oh, Katie, do—oh, do—do! When Rose was in a coaxing mood, few people could resist her. Katie yielded, and between Jess and Ernest the matter resettled. Katie was to head the plan and invite the members. Only a few at first, suggested Rose. When it is proved to be a success and everybody wants to join, we can let in two or three more as a great favour. What shall the name be? We'll keep it a secret, whatever it is. There's no fun in a society without a secret. What should the name be? Rose invented half a dozen, each more absurd than the last. The Anti-Jane Society would sound well, she insisted. Or no, the Put Him Down Club was better yet. Finally they settled upon the Society for the Suppression of Unladylike Conduct. Only we'll never use the whole name, said Rose, we'll say the SSUC. That sounds brisk and snappy, and we'll drive the whole school wild with curiosity. What larks how I long to begin! The next Saturday was fixed upon for the first meeting. During the week Katie proposed the plan to the elect few, all of whom accepted enthusiastically. Lily Page was the only person who declined. She said it would be stupid, that for her part she didn't set up to be proper or better than she was, and that in any case she shouldn't wish to be mixed up in a society of which Miss Agnew was a member. The girls did not break their hearts over this refusal. They had felt obliged to ask her for relationship's sake, but everybody was a little relieved that she did not wish to join. Number six looked very full indeed that Saturday afternoon when the SSUC came together for the first time. Ten members were present. Mary Silver and Louisa were two, and Rose's crony Esther Dearborn another. The remaining four were Sally Alsop and Amy Erskine, Alice Gibbons, one of the new scholars whom they all liked, but did not know very well, and Ellen Gray, a pale, quiet girl with droll blue eyes, a comical twist to her mouth, and a trick of saying funny things in such a demure way that half the people who listened never found out that they were funny. All Rose's chairs had been borrowed for the occasion. Three girls sat on the bed and three on the floor. With a little squeezing there was plenty of room for everybody. Katie was chosen president, and requested to take the rocking chair as a sign of office. This she did with much dignity, and proceeded to read the constitution and by-laws of the society which had been drawn up by Rose Red and copied on an immense sheet of blue paper. They ran thus. Art. 1 The object of the society is twofold. It combines having a good time with the pursuit of virtue. Art. 2 The good time is to take place once a week in No. 6, Quaker Row, between the hours of 4 and 6 p.m. Art. 3 The nature of the good time is to be decided upon by committee to be appointed each Saturday by the members of the society. Virtue is to be pursued at all times and in all seasons by the members of the society, setting their faces against the practice of bowing and speaking to young gentlemen who are not acquaintances, waving of pocket handkerchiefs, signals from windows, and any species of conduct which would be thought on ladylike by nice people anywhere, and especially by the mamas of the society. Art. 5 The members of the society pledge themselves to use their influence against these practices, both by precept and example. In witness whereof we sign. Catherine Carr, president, Rosamund Redding, secretary, Clover E. Carr, Mary L. Silver, Esther Dearborn, Sally P. Alsopp, Amy W. Erskine, Alice Gibbons, Ellen Whitworth Gray. Next followed the bylaws. Katie had not been able to see the necessity of having any bylaws, but Rose had insisted. She had never heard of a society without them, she said, and she didn't think it would be legal to leave them out. It had cost her some trouble to invent them, but at last they stood thus. Bylaw No. 1 The members of the SSUC will observe the following signals. First the grip. This is given by inserting the first and middle finger of the right hand between the thumb and fourth finger of the respondent's left, and describing a rotatory motion in the air with the little finger. Nota bene. Much practice is necessary to enable members to exchange this signal in such a manner as not to attract attention. The signal of danger. This signal is for use when Miss Jane or any other faux woman heaves into sight. It consists in rubbing the nose violently, and at the same time giving three stamps on the floor with the left foot. It must be done with an air of unconsciousness. Third the signal for consultation. This signal is for use when immediate communication is requisite between members of the society. It consists of a pinch on the back of the right hand, accompanied by the word holophones pronounced in a low voice. By-law number two. The members of the SSUC pledge themselves to inviolable secrecy about all society proceedings. By-law number three. The members of the SSUC will bring their Saturday corn balls to swell the common entertainment. By-law number four. Members having boxes from home are at liberty to contribute such part of the contents as they please to the aforementioned common entertainment. Here the by-laws ended. There was much laughter over them, especially over the last. Why did you put that in, Rosie?" asked Ellen Gray. It strikes me as hardly necessary. Oh! replied Rose. I put that in to encourage Silvery Mary there. She's expecting a box soon, and I knew that she would pine to give the society a share, but would be too timid to propose it, so I thought I would just pave the way. How truly kind! laughed Clover. Now, said the President, the entertainment of the meeting will begin by the reading of Trailing Arbitus, a poem by C.E.C. Clover had been very unwilling to read the first piece, and had only yielded after much coaxing from Rose, who had bestowed upon her in consequence the name of Quintia Cirtia. She felt very shy as she stood up with her paper in hand, and her voice trembled perceptibly, but after a minute she grew used to the sound of it, and read steadily. Trailing Arbitus. I always think when looking at its mingled rose and white of the pink lips of children put up to say good night. Cuddled its green leaves under, like babies in their beds, its blossoms shy and sunny conceal their pretty heads. And when I lift the blanket up and peep inside of it, they seem to give me smile for smile, nor be afraid a bit. Dear little flower, the earliest of all the flowers that are, twinkling upon the bare-brown earth as on the clouds a star. How can we fail to love it well, or prize it more and more? It is the first small signal that wintertime is o'er. That spring has not forgotten us, though late and slow she be, but is upon her flying way, and we her face shall see. This production caused quite a sensation among the girls. They had never heard any of Clover's verses before, and thought these wonderful. Why, cried Sally Alsop, it is almost as good as Tupper! Sally meant this for a great compliment, for she was devoted to the proverbial philosophy. A poem by E.D. was the next thing on the list. Esther Dearborn rose with great pomp and dignity, cleared her throat, put on a pair of eyeglasses, and began. Miss Jane. Who ran to catch me on the spot, if I the slightest rule forgot, believing and excusing not? Miss Jane. Who lurked outside my door all day in hopes that I would disobey, and some low-whispered word would say, Miss Jane. Who caught our rosebud half way through the wall, which parted her from two friends, and that small prank made her rue? Miss Jane. Who is our bane, our foe, our fear? Who's always certain to appear, just when we do not think her near? Miss Jane. Who down the hall is creeping now with stealthy step, but knowing not how exactly to discover? Broken rose, improvising rapidly. Next moment came a knock at the door. It was Miss Jane. Your door is Miss Carr, your cupboard, she said, going across the room and examining each in turn. There was no fault to be found with either, so she withdrew, giving the laughing girls a suspicious glance, and remarking that it was a bad habit to sit on beds. We'd always injured them. Do you suppose she heard? whispered Mary Silver. No, I don't think she did, replied Rose. Of course, she suspected us of being in some mischief or other. She always does that. Now, Mary, it's your turn to give us an intellectual treat. Begin." Poor Mary shrank back, blushing and protesting. You know I can't, she said, I'm too stupid. Rubbish! cried Rose. You're the dearest girl that ever was. She gave Mary's shoulder a reassuring pat. Mary is excused this time, putting Katie. It is the first meeting, so I shall be indulgent. But after this, every member will be expected to contribute something for each meeting. I mean to be very strict. Oh, I never, never can, cried Mary. Rose was down on her at once. Nonsense! Hush! she said. Of course you can. You shall, if I have to write it for you myself. Order! said the President, wrapping on the table with a pencil. Rose has something to read us. Rose stood up with great gravity. I would ask for a moment's delay, that the society may get out its pocket handkerchiefs, she said. My piece is an affecting one. I didn't mean it, but it came so. We cannot always be cheerful. Here she heaved a sigh which said the SSUC to laughing, and began. A Scotch poem. We crimson-tippet willy-wink, Ways me drear dre and dry, A way full-thocked, A fearsome flea, a weather wind, an aw. Sir, sir, thy mither saps her lane, Her in her moo are what, Her culled kale hay the corbys tin, And grievously she grot. Ah, me, the southering of the wind, Ah, me, the wasome mither, Ah, me, the bernie's left behind, The shither hither blither. What does it mean? cried the girls, as Rose folded up the paper and sat down. Mean, said Rose, I'm sure I don't know. It's Scotch, I tell you. It's the kind of thing that people read, and then they say, One of the loveliest gems that Burns ever wrote. I thought I'd see if I couldn't do one, too. Anybody can, I find. It's not at all difficult. All the poems, having been read, Katie now proposed that they should play word and question. She and Clover were accustomed to the game at home, but to some of the others it was quite new. Each girl was furnished with a slip of paper and a pencil, and was told to write a word at the top of the paper, fold it over, and pass it to her next left-hand neighbor. Dear me, I don't know what to write, said Mary Silver. Oh, write anything, said Clover, so Mary obediently wrote anything and folded it over. What next? asked Alice Gibbons. Now a question, said Katie, write it under the word, and fold over again. No, Amy, not on the fold, don't you see, if you do, the writing will be on the wrong side of the paper when we come to read. The questions were more troublesome than the words, and the girls sat frowning and biting their pencil-tops for some minutes before all were done. As the slips were handed in, Katie dropped them into the lid of her work-basket and thoroughly mixed and stirred them up. Now, she said, passing it about, each draw one, read, and write a rhyme in which the word is introduced and the question answered. It needn't be more than two lines unless you like. Heroes, it's your turn first. Oh, what a hard game, cried some of the girls, but pretty soon they grew interested and began to work over their verses. I should uncommonly like to know who wrote this abominable word, said Rose in a tone of despair. Clover, you rascal, I believe it was you. Clover peeped over her shoulder, nodded and laughed. Very well then, snatching up Clover's slip and putting her own in its place, you can just write on it yourself. I shan't. I never heard of such a word in my life. You made it up for the occasion. You know you did. I didn't. It's in the Bible," replied Clover, setting to work compositely on the fresh paper. But when Rose opened Clover's slip, she groaned again. It's just as bad as the other, she cried. Do change back again, Clovy, that's a dear. No, indeed, said Clover, guarding her paper. You've changed once, and now you must keep what you have." Rose made a face, chewed her pencil a while, and then began to write rapidly. For some minutes not a word was spoken. I've done," said Esther Dearborn at last, flinging her paper into the basket lid. So have I, said Katie. One by one the papers were collected and jumbled into a heap. Then Katie, giving all a final shake, drew out one, opened it, and read. Word, radishes, question, how do you like your clergyman done? How do I like them done? Well, that depends. I like them done on sleepy drowsy Sundays, I like them underdone on other days, perhaps a little overdone on Mondays, but I always prefer them old as pa, and not like radishes all red and raw. Oh, what a rhyme! cried Clover. Well, what is one to do? said Ellen Gray. Then she stopped and bit her lip, remembering that no one was supposed to know who wrote the separate papers. Ah-ha! It's yours, is it, Ellen? said Rose. You're an awfully clever girl and an ornament to the SSUC. Go on, Katie. Katie opened the second slip. Word, anything, question, would you rather be a greater fool than you seem, or seem a greater fool than you are? I wouldn't be a fool for anything, my dear. If I could help it, but I can't, I fear. Not bad, said Rose, nodding her head at Sally Alsop, who blushed crimson. The third paper ran, word, maher shallal hashbaz, question, does your mother know you're out? Rose and Clover exchanged looks. Why, of course, my mother knows it, for she sent me out herself. She told me to run quickly, for it wasn't but a mile, but I found it was much farther and my feet grew tired and weary, and I couldn't hurry greatly, so I took a long, long while. Beside I stopped to read your word, a stranger one I never heard. I have met with Papistical—that's Pat—but maher shallal hashbaz, what's that? Oh, Clovy, you bright little thing, cried Rose, in fits of laughter. But Mary's silver looked quite pale. I never heard of anything so awful, she said. If that word had come to me I should have fainted away on the spot, I know I should. Next came, word, buttons, question, what is the best way to make home happy? To me it is quite clear I can answer this right, sew on the buttons and sew them on tight. I suspect that is Amy's, said Esther, she's such a model for mending and keeping things in order. It's not fair guessing aloud in this way, said Sally Alsop. They always spoke for Amy, and Amy for Sally. Voice and echo, Rose called them. Only as she remarked, nobody could tell which was echo and which was voice. The next word was Mrs. Nipson, and the question, do you like flowers? Do I like flowers? I will not write a sonnet, singing their beauty as a poet might do. I just attest those on Aunt Nipson's bonnet, because they are like her, all grey and blue, dusty and pinched and fastened on a skew, and as, for heaven's own butter-cups and daisies, I am not good enough to sing their praises. Nobody knew who wrote this verse. Katie suspected Louisa, and Rose suspected Katie. The sixth slip was a very brief one. Word, when? Question, are you willing? If I wasn't willing I would tell you, but when, oh dear, I can't. What an extraordinary rhyme, began Clover, but Rose spied poor Mary blushing and looking distressed, and hastily interposed. It's very good, I'm sure. I wish I'd written it. Go on, Katie." So Katie went on. Word, unfeeling. Question, which would you rather do, or go fishing? I don't feel up to fishing or such, and so if you please, I'd rather do which? I don't seem to see the word in that poem, said Rose. The distinguished author will please write another. The distinguished author made no reply to this suggestion, but after a minute or two Esther Dearborn, quite disinterestedly, as she stated, after all, to don't feel was pretty much the same as unfeeling. There was a little chorus of groans at this, and Katie said she should certainly impose a fine if such dodges and evasions were practiced again. This was the first meeting, however, and she would be merciful. After this speech she unfolded another paper. It ran— Word, flee, question, what would you do, love? What would I do, love? Well I do not know. How can I tell to you I'm more explicit? If it were a rose you held me I would smell it. If it were a mouth you held me I would kiss it. If it were a frog I'd scream then furies louder. If it were a flea I'd fetch the lion's powder. Only two slips remained. One was Katie's own. She knew it by the way in which it was folded, and had almost instinctively avoided and left it for the last. Now however she took courage and opened it. The word was measles, and the question, who was the grandmother of invention? These were the lions. The night was horribly dark. The measles broke out in the ark. Little Jaffer and Shem and all the young hams were screaming at once for potatoes and clams. What shall I do? said poor Mrs. Noah, all alone by myself in this terrible shower. I know what I'll do. I'll step down in the hole, then wake up a lioness, grim and old, and tie her close to the children's door, and give her a ginger-cake to roar, at the top of her voice for an hour or more. And I'll tell the children to cease their din, or I'll let that grim old party in, to stop their squeezels and likewise their measles. She practised this with the greatest success. She was everyone's grandmother, I guess. That's much the best of all! pronounced Alice Gibbons. I wonder who wrote it. Dear me, did you like it so much? said Rose, simpering and doing her best to blush. Did you really write it? said Mary. But Louisa laughed, and exclaimed, No use, Rosie, you can't take us in. We know better. Now for the last, said Katie. The word is buckwheat, and the question, What is the origin of dreams? When the nuns are sweetly sleeping Mrs. Nipson comes a creeping, creeping like a kitty-cat from door to door, as she listens to their slumbers, and most carefully she numbers, counting for every nun a nunlet's snore, and the nuns in sweet forgetfulness who lie, dreaming of buckwheat cakes, parental love, and pie, moan softly, twist and turn and see black cats and fiends who frolic in their glee, and nightmares prancing wildly to a bound, while Mrs. Nipson makes her nightly round. Who did write that? exclaimed Rose. Nobody answered. The girls looked at each other, and Rose scrutinized them all with sharp glances. Well, I never saw such creatures for keeping their countenances, she said. Somebody is as bold as brass. Didn't you see how I blushed when my thesis read? You monkey!" whispered Clover, who at that moment caught sight of the handwriting on the paper. Rose gave her a warning pinch, and the both subsided into an unseen giggle. What! The T-bell, cried everybody, we wanted to play another game. It's a complete success! whispered Rose ecstatically as they went down the hall. The girls all say they never had such a good time in their lives. I'm so glad I didn't die when the measles when I was little. Well, demanded Lily, so the high and mighty society has had a meeting. How did it go off? Delicious! replied Rose, smacking her lips as at the recollection of something very nice. But you mustn't ask any questions, Lily. Outsiders have nothing to do with the SSUC. Our proceedings are strictly private. She ran downstairs with Katie. I think your real mean, called the Lily after them. Then she said to herself, they're just trying to tease. I know it was stupid. End of chapter 6