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What Katy Did Next

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"It is lovely," she said, sinking into a great velvet arm-chair which
Katy had drawn close to the seaward window. "I haven't seen anything so
pleasant since we left home. You are a witch, Katy, and the comfort of
my life. I am so glad I brought you! Now, pray go and unpack your own
things, and make yourself look nice for the second breakfast. We have
been a shabby set enough since we arrived. I saw those cousins of yours
looking askance at our old travelling-dresses yesterday. Let us try to
make a more respectable impression to-day."

So they went down to breakfast, Mrs. Ashe in one of her new Paris gowns,
Katy in a pretty dress of olive serge, and Amy all smiles and ruffled
pinafore, walking hand in hand with her uncle Ned, who had just arrived
and whose great ally she was; and Mrs. Page and Lilly, who were already
seated at table, had much ado to conceal their somewhat unflattering
surprise at the conjunction. For one moment Lilly's eyes opened into a
wide stare of incredulous astonishment; then she remembered herself,
nodded as pleasantly as she could to Mrs. Ashe and Katy, and favored
Lieutenant Worthington with a pretty blushing smile as he went by, while
she murmured,--

"Mamma, do you see that? What does it mean?"

"Why, Ned, do you know those people?" asked Mrs. Ashe at the same
moment.

"Do _you_ know them!"

"Yes; we met yesterday. They are connections of my friend Miss Carr."

"Really? There is not the least family likeness between them." And Mr.
Worthington's eyes travelled deliberately from Lilly's delicate, golden
prettiness to Katy, who, truth to say, did not shine by the contrast.

"She has a nice, sensible sort of face," he thought, "and she looks like
a lady, but for beauty there is no comparison between the two." Then he
turned to listen to his sister as she replied,--

"No, indeed, not the least; no two girls could be less like." Mrs. Ashe
had made the same comparison, but with quite a different result. Katy's
face was grown dear to her, and she had not taken the smallest fancy to
Lilly Page.

Her relationship to the young naval officer, however, made a wonderful
difference in the attitude of Mrs. Page and Lilly toward the party. Katy
became a person to be cultivated rather than repressed, and
thenceforward there was no lack of cordiality on their part.

"I want to come in and have a good talk," said Lilly, slipping her arm
through Katy's as they left the dining-room. "Mayn't I come now while
mamma is calling on Mrs. Ashe?" This arrangement brought her to the side
of Lieutenant Worthington, and she walked between him and Katy down the
hall and into the little drawing-room.

"Oh, how perfectly charming! You have been fixing up ever since you
came, haven't you? It looks like home. I wish we had a _salon_, but
mamma thought it wasn't worth while, as we were only to be here such a
little time. What a delicious balcony over the water, too! May I go out
on it? Oh, Mr. Worthington, do see this!"

She pushed open the half-closed window and stepped out as she spoke. Mr.
Worthington, after hesitating a moment, followed. Katy paused uncertain.
There was hardly room for three in the balcony, yet she did not quite
like to leave them. But Lilly had turned her back, and was talking in a
low tone; it was nothing more in reality than the lightest chit-chat,
but it had the air of being something confidential; so Katy, after
waiting a little while, retreated to the sofa, and took up her work,
joining now and then in the conversation which Mrs. Ashe was keeping up
with Cousin Olivia. She did not mind Lilly's ill-breeding, nor was she
surprised at it. Mrs. Ashe was less tolerant.

"Isn't it rather damp out there, Ned?" she called to her brother; "you
had better throw my shawl round Miss Page's shoulders."

"Oh, it isn't a bit damp," said Lilly, recalled to herself by this broad
hint. "Thank you so much for thinking of it, Mrs. Ashe, but I am just
coming in." She seated herself beside Katy, and began to question her
rather languidly.

"When did you leave home, and how were they all when you came away?"

"All well, thank you. We sailed from Boston on the 14th of October; and
before that I spent two days with Rose Red,--you remember her? She is
married now, and has the dearest little home and such a darling baby."

"Yes, I heard of her marriage. It didn't seem much of a match for Mr.
Redding's daughter to make, did it? I never supposed she would be
satisfied with anything less than a member of Congress or a Secretary of
Legation."

"Rose isn't particularly ambitious, I think, and she seems perfectly
happy," replied Katy, flushing.

"Oh, you needn't fire up in her defence; you and Clover always did adore
Rose Red, I know, but I never could see what there was about her that
was so wonderfully fascinating. She never had the least style, and she
was always just as rude to me as she could be."

"You were not intimate at school, but I am sure Rose was never rude,"
said Katy, with spirit.

"Well, we won't fight about her at this late day. Tell me where you have
been, and where you are going, and how long you are to stay in Europe."

Katy, glad to change the subject, complied, and the conversation
diverged into comparison of plans and experiences. Lilly had been in
Europe nearly a year, and had seen "almost everything," as she phrased
it. She and her mother had spent the previous winter in Italy, had taken
a run into Russia, "done" Switzerland and the Tyrol thoroughly, and
France and Germany, and were soon going into Spain, and from there to
Paris, to shop in preparation for their return home in the spring.

"Of course we shall want quantities of things," she said. "No one will
believe that we have been abroad unless we bring home a lot of clothes.
The _lingerie_ and all that is ordered already; but the dresses must be
made at the last moment, and we shall have a horrid time of it, I
suppose. Worth has promised to make me two walking-suits and two
ball-dresses, but he's very bad about keeping his word. Did you do much
when you were in Paris, Katy?"

"We went to the Louvre three times, and to Versailles and St. Cloud,"
said Katy, wilfully misunderstanding her.

"Oh, I didn't mean that kind of stupid thing; I meant gowns. What
did you buy?"

"One tailor-made suit of dark blue cloth."

"My! what moderation!"

Shopping played a large part in Lilly's reminiscences. She recollected
places, not from their situation or beauty or historical associations,
or because of the works of art which they contained, but as the places
where she bought this or that.

"Oh, that dear Piazza di Spagna!" she would say; "that was where I
found my rococo necklace, the loveliest thing you ever saw, Katy." Or,
"Prague--oh yes, mother got the most enchanting old silver chatelaine
there, with all kinds of things hanging to it,--needlecases and watches
and scent-bottles, all solid, and so beautifully chased." Or again,
"Berlin was horrid, we thought; but the amber is better and cheaper
than anywhere else,--great strings of beads, of the largest size and
that beautiful pale yellow, for a hundred francs. You must get yourself
one, Katy."

Poor Lilly! Europe to her was all "things." She had collected trunks
full of objects to carry home, but of the other collections which do not
go into trunks, she had little or none. Her mind was as empty, her heart
as untouched as ever; the beauty and the glory and the pathos of art and
history and Nature had been poured out in vain before her closed and
indifferent eyes.

Life soon dropped into a peaceful routine at the Pension Suisse, which
was at the same time restful and stimulating. Katy's first act in the
morning, as soon as she opened her eyes, was to hurry to the window in
hopes of getting a glimpse of Corsica. She had discovered that this
elusive island could almost always be seen from Nice at the dawning, but
that as soon as the sun was fairly up, it vanished to appear no more for
the rest of the day. There was something fascinating to her imagination
in the hovering mountain outline between sea and sky. She felt as if she
were under an engagement to be there to meet it, and she rarely missed
the appointment. Then, after Corsica had pulled the bright mists over
its face and melted from view, she would hurry with her dressing, and as
soon as was practicable set to work to make the _salon_ look bright
before the coffee and rolls should appear, a little after eight o'clock.
Mrs. Ashe always found the fire lit, the little meal cosily set out
beside it, and Katy's happy untroubled face to welcome her when she
emerged from her room; and the cheer of these morning repasts made a
good beginning for the day.

Then came walking and a French lesson, and a long sitting on the beach,
while Katy worked at her home letters and Amy raced up and down in the
sun; and then toward noon Lieutenant Ned generally appeared, and some
scheme of pleasure was set on foot. Mrs. Ashe ignored his evident
_penchant_ for Lilly Page, and claimed his time and attentions as hers
by right. Young Worthington was a good deal "taken" with the pretty
Lilly; still, he had an old-time devotion for his sister and the habit
of doing what she desired, and he yielded to her behests with no audible
objections. He made a fourth in the carriage while they drove over the
lovely hills which encircle Nice toward the north, to Cimiers and the
Val de St. André, or down the coast toward Ventimiglia. He went with
them to Monte-Carlo and Mentone, and was their escort again and again
when they visited the great war-ships as they lay at anchor in a bay
which in its translucent blue was like an enormous sapphire.

Mrs. Page and her daughter were included in these parties more than
once; but there was something in Mrs. Ashe's cool appropriation of her
brother which was infinitely vexatious to Lilly, who before her
arrival had rather looked upon Lieutenant Worthington as her own
especial property.

"I wish _that_ Mrs. Ashe had stayed at home," she told her mother. "She
quite spoils everything. Mr. Worthington isn't half so nice as he was
before she came. I do believe she has a plan for making him fall in love
with Katy; but there she makes a miss of it, for he doesn't seem to care
anything about her."

"Katy is a nice girl enough," pronounced her mother, "but not of the
sort to attract a gay young man, I should fancy. I don't believe _she_
is thinking of any such thing. You needn't be afraid, Lilly."

"I'm not afraid," said Lilly, with a pout; "only it's so provoking."

Mrs. Page was quite right. Katy was not thinking of any such thing. She
liked Ned Worthington's frank manners; she owned, quite honestly, that
she thought him handsome, and she particularly admired the sort of
deferential affection which he showed to Mrs. Ashe, and his nice ways
with Amy. For herself, she was aware that he scarcely noticed her except
as politeness demanded that he should be civil to his sister's friend;
but the knowledge did not trouble her particularly. Her head was full of
interesting things, plans, ideas. She was not accustomed to being made
the object of admiration, and experienced none of the vexations of a
neglected belle. If Lieutenant Worthington happened to talk to her, she
responded frankly and freely; if he did not, she occupied herself with
something else; in either case she was quite unembarrassed both in
feeling and manner, and had none of the awkwardness which comes from
disappointed vanity and baffled expectations, and the need for
concealing them.

Toward the close of December the officers of the flag-ship gave a ball,
which was the great event of the season to the gay world of Nice.
Americans were naturally in the ascendant on an American frigate; and of
all the American girls present, Lilly Page was unquestionably the
prettiest. Exquisitely dressed in white lace, with bands of turquoises
on her neck and arms and in her hair, she had more partners than she
knew what to do with, more bouquets than she could well carry, and
compliments enough to turn any girl's head. Thrown off her guard by her
triumphs, she indulged a little vindictive feeling which had been
growing in her mind of late on account of what she chose to consider
certain derelictions of duty on the part of Lieutenant Worthington, and
treated him to a taste of neglect. She was engaged three deep when he
asked her to dance; she did not hear when he invited her to walk; she
turned a cold shoulder when he tried to talk, and seemed absorbed by the
other cavaliers, naval and otherwise, who crowded about her.

Piqued and surprised, Ned Worthington turned to Katy. She did not dance,
saying frankly that she did not know how and was too tall; and she was
rather simply dressed in a pearl-gray silk, which had been her best gown
the winter before in Burnet, with a bunch of red roses in the white lace
of the tucker, and another in her hand, both the gifts of little Amy;
but she looked pleasant and serene, and there was something about her
which somehow soothed his disturbed mind, as he offered her his arm for
a walk on the decks.

For a while they said little, and Katy was quite content to pace up and
down in silence, enjoying the really beautiful scene,--the moonlight on
the Bay, the deep wavering reflections of the dark hulls and slender
spars, the fairy effect of the colored lamps and lanterns, and the
brilliant moving maze of the dancers.

"Do you care for this sort of thing?" he suddenly asked.

"What sort of thing do you mean?"

"Oh, all this jigging and waltzing and amusement."

"I don't know how to 'jig,' but it's delightful to look on," she
answered merrily. "I never saw anything so pretty in my life."

The happy tone of her voice and the unruffled face which she turned upon
him quieted his irritation.

"I really believe you mean it," he said; "and yet, if you won't think me
rude to say so, most girls would consider the thing dull enough if they
were only getting out of it what you are,--if they were not dancing, I
mean, and nobody in particular was trying to entertain them."

"But everything _is_ being done to entertain me," cried Katy. "I can't
imagine what makes you think that it could seem dull. I am in it all,
don't you see,--I have my share--. Oh, I am stupid, I can't make you
understand."

"Yes, you do. I understand perfectly, I think; only it is such a
different point of view from what girls in general would take." (By
girls he meant Lilly!) "Please do not think me uncivil."

"You are not uncivil at all; but don't let us talk any more about me.
Look at the lights between the shadows of the masts on the water. How
they quiver! I never saw anything so beautiful, I think. And how warm it
is! I can't believe that we are in December and that it is nearly
Christmas."

"How is Polly going to celebrate her Christmas? Have you decided?"

"Amy is to have a Christmas-tree for her dolls, and two other dolls are
coming. We went out this morning to buy things for it,--tiny little toys
and candles fit for Lilliput. And that reminds me, do you suppose one
can get any Christmas greens here?"

"Why not? The place seems full of green."

"That's just it; the summer look makes it unnatural. But I should like
some to dress the parlor with if they could be had."

"I'll see what I can find, and send you a load."

I don't know why this very simple little talk should have made an
impression on Lieutenant Worthington's mind, but somehow he did not
forget it.

"'Don't let us talk any more about me,'" he said to himself that night
when alone in his cabin. "I wonder how long it would be before the other
one did anything to divert the talk from herself. Some time, I fancy."
He smiled rather grimly as he unbuckled his sword-belt. It is unlucky
for a girl when she starts a train of reflection like this. Lilly's
little attempt to pique her admirer had somehow missed its mark.

The next afternoon Katy in her favorite place on the beach was at work
on the long weekly letter which she never failed to send home to Burnet.
She held her portfolio in her lap, and her pen ran rapidly over the
paper, as rapidly almost as her tongue would have run could her
correspondents have been brought nearer.


"Nice, December 22.

"Dear Papa and everybody,--Amy and I are sitting on my old purple
cloak, which is spread over the sand just where it was spread the
last time I wrote you. We are playing the following game: I am a
fairy and she is a little girl. Another fairy--not sitting on the
cloak at present--has enchanted the little girl, and I am telling
her various ways by which she can work out her deliverance. At
present the task is to find twenty-four dull red pebbles of the same
color, failing to do which she is to be changed into an owl. When we
began to play, I was the wicked fairy; but Amy objected to that
because I am 'so nice,' so we changed the characters. I wish you
could see the glee in her pretty gray eyes over this infantile game,
into which she has thrown herself so thoroughly that she half
believes in it. 'But I needn't really be changed into an owl! 'she
says, with a good deal of anxiety in her voice.

"To think that you are shivering in the first snow-storm, or sending
the children out with their sleds and india-rubbers to slide! How I
wish instead that you were sharing the purple cloak with Amy and me,
and could sit all this warm balmy afternoon close to the surf-line
which fringes this bluest of blue seas! There is plenty of room for
you all. Not many people come down to this end of the beach, and if
you were very good we would let you play.

"Our life here goes on as delightfully as ever. Nice is very full of
people, and there seem to be some pleasant ones among them. Here at
the Pension Suisse we do not see a great many Americans. The
fellow-boarders are principally Germans and Austrians with a
sprinkling of French. (Amy has found her twenty-four red pebbles, so
she is let off from being an owl. She is now engaged in throwing
them one by one into the sea. Each must hit the water under penalty
of her being turned into a Muscovy duck. She doesn't know exactly
what a Muscovy duck is, which makes her all the more particular
about her shots.) But, as I was saying, our little _suite_ in the
round tower is so on one side of the rest of the Pension that it is
as good as having a house of our own. The _salon_ is very bright and
sunny; we have two sofas and a square table and a round table and a
sort of what-not and two easy-chairs and two uneasy chairs and a
lamp of our own and a clock. There is also a sofa-pillow. There's
richness for you! We have pinned up all our photographs on the
walls, including Papa's and Clovy's and that bad one of Phil and
Johnnie making faces at each other, and three lovely red and yellow
Japanese pictures on muslin which Rose Red put in my trunk the last
thing, for a spot of color. There are some autumn leaves too; and we
always have flowers and in the mornings and evenings a fire.

"Amy is now finding fifty snow-white pebbles, which when found are
to be interred in one common grave among the shingle. If she fails
to do this, she is to be changed to an electrical eel. The chief
difficulty is that she loses her heart to particular pebbles. 'I
can't bury you,' I hear her saying.

"To return,--we have jolly little breakfasts together in the
_salon_. They consist of coffee and rolls, and are served by a
droll, snappish little _garçon_ with no teeth, and an Italian-French
patois which is very hard to understand when he sputters. He told me
the other day that he had been a _garçon_ for forty-six years, which
seemed rather a long boyhood.

"The company, as we meet them at table, are rather entertaining.
Cousin Olivia and Lilly are on their best behavior to me because I
am travelling with Mrs. Ashe, and Mrs. Ashe is Lieutenant
Worthington's sister, and Lieutenant Worthington is Lilly's admirer,
and they like him very much. In fact, Lilly has intimated
confidentially that she is all but engaged to him; but I am not sure
about it, or if that was what she meant; and I fear, if it proves
true, that dear Polly will not like it at all. She is quite
unmanageable, and snubs Lilly continually in a polite way, which
makes me fidgety for fear Lilly will be offended, but she never
seems to notice it. Cousin Olivia looks very handsome and gorgeous.
She quite takes the color out of the little Russian Countess who
sits next to her, and who is as dowdy and meek as if she came from
Akron or Binghampton, or any other place where countesses are
unknown. Then there are two charming, well-bred young Austrians. The
one who sits nearest to me is a 'Candidat' for a Doctorate of Laws,
and speaks eight languages well. He has only studied English for the
past six weeks, but has made wonderful progress. I wish my French
were half as good as his English is already.

"There is a very gossiping young woman on the story beneath ours,
whom I meet sometimes in the garden, and from her I hear all manner
of romantic tales about people in the house. One little French girl
is dying of consumption and a broken heart, because of a quarrel
with her lover, who is a courier; and the _padrona_, who is young
and pretty, and has only been married a few months to our elderly
landlord, has a story also. I forget some of the details; but there
was a stern parent and an admirer, and a cup of cold poison, and now
she says she wishes she were dying of consumption like poor
Alphonsine. For all that, she looks quite fat and rosy, and I often
see her in her best gown with a great deal of Roman scarf and mosaic
jewelry, stationed in the doorway, 'making the Pension look
attractive to the passers-by.' So she has a sense of duty, though
she is unhappy.

"Amy has buried all her pebbles, and says she is tired of playing
fairy. She is now sitting with her head on my shoulder, and
professedly studying her French verb for to-morrow, but in reality,
I am sorry to say, she is conversing with me about be-headings,--a
subject which, since her visit to the Tower, has exercised a
horrible fascination over her mind. 'Do people die right away?' she
asks. 'Don't they feel one minute, and doesn't it feel awfully?'
There is a good deal of blood, she supposes, because there was so
much straw laid about the block in the picture of Lady Jane Gray's
execution, which enlivened our walls in Paris. On the whole, I am
rather glad that a fat little white dog has come waddling down the
beach and taken off her attention.

"Speaking of Paris seems to renew the sense of fog which we had
there. Oh, how enchanting sunshine is after weeks of gloom! I shall
never forget how the Mediterranean looked when we saw it first,--all
blue, and such a lovely color. There ought, according to Morse's
Atlas, to have been a big red letter T on the water about where we
were, but I didn't see any. Perhaps they letter it so far out from
shore that only people in boats notice it.

"Now the dusk is fading, and the odd chill which hides under these
warm afternoons begins to be felt. Amy has received a message
written on a mysterious white pebble to the effect--"

Katy was interrupted at this point by a crunching step on the gravel
behind her.

"Good afternoon," said a voice. "Polly has sent me to fetch you and Amy
in. She says it is growing cool."

"We were just coming," said Katy, beginning to put away her papers.

Ned Worthington sat down on the cloak beside her. The distance was now
steel gray against the sky; then came a stripe of violet, and then a
broad sheet of the vivid iridescent blue which one sees on the necks of
peacocks, which again melted into the long line of flashing surf.

"See that gull," he said, "how it drops plumb into the sea, as if bound
to go through to China!"

"Mrs. Hawthorne calls skylarks 'little raptures,'" replied Katy.
"Sea-gulls seem to me like grown-up raptures."

"Are you going?" said Lieutenant Worthington in a tone of surprise,
as she rose.

"Didn't you say that Polly wanted us to come in?"

"Why, yes; but it seems too good to leave, doesn't it? Oh, by the way,
Miss Carr, I came across a man to-day and ordered your greens. They will
be sent on Christmas Eve. Is that right?"

"Quite right, and we are ever so much obliged to you." She turned for a
last look at the sea, and, unseen by Ned Worthington, formed her lips
into a "good-night." Katy had made great friends with the Mediterranean.

The promised "greens" appeared on the afternoon before Christmas Day, in
the shape of an enormous fagot of laurel and laurestinus and holly and
box; orange and lemon boughs with ripe fruit hanging from them, thick
ivy tendrils whole yards long, arbutus, pepper tree, and great branches
of acacia, covered with feathery yellow bloom. The man apologized for
bringing so little. The gentleman had ordered two francs worth, he said,
but this was all he could carry; he would fetch some more if the young
lady wished! But Katy, exclaiming with delight over her wealth, wished
no more; so the man departed, and the three friends proceeded to turn
the little _salon_ into a fairy bower. Every photograph and picture was
wreathed in ivy, long garlands hung on either side the windows, and the
chimney-piece and door-frames became clustering banks of leaf and
blossom. A great box of flowers had come with the greens, and bowls of
fresh roses and heliotrope and carnations were set everywhere; violets
and primroses, gold-hearted brown auriculas, spikes of veronica, all the
zones and all the seasons, combining to make the Christmas-tide sweet,
and to turn winter topsy-turvy in the little parlor.

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