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What Katy Did

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"Oh no, no!" protested Katy, "I'm most up already." And she sped up
stairs as fast as she could go. Luckless speed! She had just reached
the door of the Blue-room, when she tripped upon her boot-lace, which,
as usual, was dangling, made a misstep, and stumbled. She caught at
the door to save herself; the door flew open; and Katy, with the tray,
cream, raspberries, rose and all, descended in a confused heap upon
the carpet.

"I told you so!" exclaimed Aunt Izzie from the bottom of the stairs.

Katy never forgot how kind Cousin Helen was on this occasion. She was in
bed, and was of course a good deal startled at the sudden crash and
tumble on her floor. But after one little jump, nothing could have been
sweeter than the way in which she comforted poor crest-fallen Katy, and
made so merry over the accident, that even Aunt Izzie almost forgot to
scold. The broken dishes were piled up and the carpet made clean again,
while Aunt Izzie prepared another tray just as nice as the first.

"Please let Katy bring it up!" pleaded Cousin Helen, in her pleasant
voice, "I am sure she will be careful this time. And Katy, I want
just such another rose on the napkin. I guess that was your
doing--wasn't it?"

Katy _was_ careful.--This time all went well. The tray was placed safely
on a little table beside the bed, and Katy sat watching Cousin Helen eat
her supper with a warm, loving feeling at her heart. I think we are
scarcely ever so grateful to people as when they help us to get back our
own self-esteem.

Cousin Helen hadn't much appetite, though she declared everything was
delicious. Katy could see that she was very tired.

"Now," she said, when she had finished, "if you'll shake up this pillow,
_so;_--and move this other pillow a little, I think I will settle myself
to sleep. Thanks--that's just right. Why, Katy dear, you are a born
nurse Now kiss me. Good-night! To-morrow we will have a nice talk."

Katy went down stairs very happy.

"Cousin Helen's perfectly lovely," she told Clover. "And she's got on
the most _beautiful_ night-gown, all lace and ruffles. It's just like a
night-gown in a book."

"Isn't it wicked to care about clothes when you're sick?"
questioned Cecy.

"I don't believe Cousin Helen _could_ do anything wicked," said Katy.

"I told Ma that she had on bracelets, and Ma said she feared your cousin
was a worldly person," retorted Cecy, primming up her lips.

Katy and Clover were quite distressed at this opinion. They talked about
it while they were undressing.

"I mean to ask Cousin Helen to-morrow," said Katy.

Next morning the children got up very early. They were so glad that it
was vacation! If it hadn't been, they would have been forced to go to
school without seeing Cousin Helen, for she didn't wake till late.
They grew so impatient of the delay, and went up stairs so often to
listen at the door, and see if she were moving, that Aunt Izzie
finally had to order them off. Katy rebelled against this order a good
deal, but she consoled herself by going into the garden and picking
the prettiest flowers she could find, to give to Cousin Helen the
moment she should see her.

When Aunt Izzie let her go up, Cousin Helen was lying on the sofa all
dressed for the day in a fresh blue muslin, with blue ribbons, and
cunning bronze slippers with rosettes on the toes. The sofa had been
wheeled round with its back to the light. There was a cushion with a
pretty fluted cover, that Katy had never seen before, and several other
things were scattered about, which gave the room quite a different air.
All the house was neat, but somehow Aunt Izzie's rooms never were
pretty. Children's eyes are quick to perceive such things, and Katy saw
at once that the Blue-room had never looked like this.

Cousin Helen was white and tired, but her eyes and smile were as bright
as ever. She was delighted with the flowers, which Katy presented
rather shyly.

"Oh, how lovely!" she said; "I must put them in water right away. Katy
dear, don't you want to bring that little vase on the bureau and set it
on this chair beside me? And please pour a little water into it first."

"What a beauty!" cried Katy, as she lifted the graceful white cup swung
on a gilt stand. "Is it yours, Cousin Helen?"

"Yes, it is my pet vase. It stands on a little table beside me at home,
and I fancied that the Water Cure would seem more home-like if I had it
with me there, so I brought it along. But why do you look so puzzled,
Katy? Does it seem queer that a vase should travel about in a trunk?"

"No," said Katy, slowly, "I was only thinking--Cousin Helen, is it
worldly to have pretty things when you're sick?"

Cousin Helen laughed heartily.

"What put that idea into your head?" she asked.

"Cecy said so when I told her about your beautiful night-gown."

Cousin Helen laughed again.

"Well," she said, "I'll tell you what I think, Katy. Pretty things are
no more 'worldly' than ugly ones, except when they spoil us by making us
vain, or careless of the comfort of other people. And sickness is such a
disagreeable thing in itself, that unless sick people take great pains,
they soon grow to be eyesores to themselves and everybody about them. I
don't think it is possible for an invalid to be too particular. And when
one has the back-ache, and the head-ache, and the all-over ache," she
added, smiling, "there isn't much danger of growing vain because of a
ruffle more or less on one's night-gown, or a bit of bright ribbon."

Then she began to arrange the flowers, touching each separate one
gently, and as if she loved it.

"What a queer noise!" she exclaimed, suddenly stopping.

It _was_ queer--a sort of snuffing and snorting sound, as if a walrus or
a sea-horse were promenading up and down in the hall. Katy opened the
door. Behold! there were John and Dorry, very red in the face from
flattening their noses against the key-hole, in a vain attempt to see if
Cousin Helen were up and ready to receive company.

"Oh, let them come in!" cried Cousin Helen from her sofa.

So they came in, followed, before long, by Clover and Elsie. Such a
merry morning as they had! Cousin Helen proved to possess a perfect
genius for story-telling, and for suggesting games which could be played
about her sofa, and did not make more noise than she could bear. Aunt
Izzie, dropping in about eleven o'clock, found them having such a good
time, that almost before she knew it, _she_ was drawn into the game too.
Nobody had ever heard of such a thing before! There sat Aunt Izzie on
the floor, with three long lamp-lighters stuck in her hair, playing,
"I'm a genteel Lady, always genteel," in the jolliest manner possible.
The children were so enchanted at the spectacle, that they could hardly
attend to the game, and were always forgetting how many "horns" they
had. Clover privately thought that Cousin Helen must be a witch; and
Papa, when he came home at noon, said almost the same thing.

"What have you been doing to them, Helen?" he inquired, as he opened the
door, and saw the merry circle on the carpet. Aunt Izzie's hair was half
pulled down, and Philly was rolling over and over in convulsions of
laughter. But Cousin Helen said she hadn't done anything, and pretty
soon Papa was on the floor too, playing away as fast as the rest.

"I must put a stop to this," he cried, when everybody was tired of
laughing, and everybody's head was stuck as full of paper quills as a
porcupine's back. "Cousin Helen will be worn out. Run away, all of you,
and don't come near this door again till the clock strikes four. Do you
hear, chicks? Run--run! Shoo! shoo!"

The children scuttled away like a brood of fowls--all but Katy. "Oh,
Papa, I'll be _so_ quiet!" she pleaded. "Mightn't I stay just till the
dinner-bell rings?"

"Do let her!" said Cousin Helen, so Papa said "Yes."

Katy sat on the floor holding Cousin Helen's hand, and listening to her
talk with Papa. It interested her, though it was about things and people
she did not know.

"How is Alex?" asked Dr. Carr, at length.

"Quite well now," replied Cousin Helen, with one of her brightest looks.
"He was run down and tired in the Spring, and we were a little anxious
about him, but Emma persuaded him to take a fortnight's vacation, and he
came back all right."

"Do you see them often?"

"Almost every day. And little Helen comes every day, you know, for
her lessons."

"Is she as pretty as she used to be?"

"Oh yes--prettier, I think. She is a lovely little creature: having her
so much with me is one of my greatest treats. Alex tries to think that
she looks a little as I used to. But that is a compliment so great, that
I dare not appropriate it."

Dr. Carr stooped and kissed Cousin Helen as if he could not help it. "My
_dear_ child," he said. That was all; but something in the tone made
Katy curious.

"Papa," she said, after dinner, "who is Alex, that you and Cousin Helen
were talking about?"

"Why, Katy? What makes you want to know?"

"I can't exactly tell--only Cousin Helen looked so;--and you kissed
her;--and I thought perhaps it was something interesting."

"So it is," said Dr. Carr, drawing her on to his knee. "I've a mind to
tell you about it, Katy, because you're old enough to see how beautiful
it is, and wise enough (I hope) not to chatter or ask questions. Alex is
the name of somebody who, long ago, when Cousin Helen was well and
strong, she loved, and expected to marry."

"Oh! why didn't she?" cried Katy.

"She met with a dreadful accident," continued Dr. Carr. "For a long time
they thought she would die. Then she grew slowly better, and the doctors
told her that she might live a good many years, but that she would have
to lie on her sofa always, and be helpless, and a cripple.

"Alex felt dreadfully when he heard this. He wanted to marry Cousin
Helen just the same, and be her nurse, and take care of her always; but
she would not consent. She broke the engagement, and told him that some
day she hoped he would love somebody else well enough to marry her. So
after a good many years, he did, and now he and his wife live next door
to Cousin Helen, and are her dearest friends. Their little girl is named
'Helen.' All their plans are talked over with her, and there is nobody
in the world they think so much of."

"But doesn't it make Cousin Helen feel bad, when she sees them walking
about and enjoying themselves, and she can't move?" asked Katy.

"No," said Dr. Carr, "it doesn't, because Cousin Helen is half an angel
already, and loves other people better than herself. I'm very glad she
could come here for once. She's an example to us all, Katy, and I
couldn't ask anything better than to have my little girls take pattern
after her."

"It must be awful to be sick," soliloquized Katy, after Papa was
gone. "Why, if I had to stay in bed a whole week--I should _die_, I
know I should."

Poor Katy. It seemed to her, as it does to almost all young people,
that there is nothing in the world so easy as to die, the moment
things go wrong!

This conversation with Papa made Cousin Helen doubly interesting in
Katy's eyes. "It was just like something in a book," to be in the same
house with the heroine of a love-story so sad and sweet.

The play that afternoon was much interrupted, for every few minutes
somebody had to run in and see if it wasn't four o'clock. The instant
the hour came, all six children galloped up stairs.

"I think we'll tell stories this time," said Cousin Helen.

So they told stories. Cousin Helen's were the best of all. There was one
of them about a robber, which sent delightful chills creeping down all
their backs. All but Philly. He was so excited, that he grew warlike.

"I ain't afraid of robbers," he declared, strutting up and down. "When
they come, I shall just cut them in two with my sword which Papa gave
me. They did come once. I did cut them in two--three, five, eleven of
'em. You'll see!"

But that evening, after the younger children were gone to bed, and Katy
and Clover were sitting in the Blue-room, a lamentable howling was heard
from the nursery. Clover ran to see what was the matter. Behold--there
was Phil, sitting up in bed, and crying for help.

"There's robbers under the bed," he sobbed; "ever so many robbers."

"Why no, Philly!" said Clover, peeping under the valance to satisfy him;
"there isn't anybody there."

"Yes, there is, I tell you," declared Phil, holding her tight. "I heard
one. They were _chewing my india-rubbers_."

"Poor little fellow!" said Cousin Helen, when Clover, having pacified
Phil, came back to report. "It's a warning against robber stories. But
this one ended so well, that I didn't think of anybody's being
frightened."

It was no use, after this, for Aunt Izzie to make rules about going into
the Blue-room. She might as well have ordered flies to keep away from a
sugar-bowl. By hook or by crook, the children _would_ get up stairs.
Whenever Aunt Izzie went in, she was sure to find them there, just as
close to Cousin Helen as they could get. And Cousin Helen begged her not
to interfere.

"We have only three or four days to be together," she said. "Let them
come as much as they like. It won't hurt me a bit."

Little Elsie clung with a passionate love to this new friend. Cousin
Helen had sharp eyes. She saw the wistful look in Elsie's face at once,
and took special pains to be sweet and tender to her. This preference
made Katy jealous. She couldn't bear to share her cousin with anybody.

When the last evening came, and they went up after tea to the Blue-room,
Cousin Helen was opening a box which had just come by Express.

"It is a Good-by Box," she said. "All of you must sit down in a row, and
when I hide my hands behind me, _so_, you must choose in turn which you
will take."

So they all chose in turn, "Which hand will you have, the right or the
left?" and Cousin Helen, with the air of a wise fairy, brought out from
behind her pillow something pretty for each one. First came a vase
exactly like her own, which Katy had admired so much. Katy screamed with
delight as it was placed in her hands:

"Oh, how lovely! how lovely!" she cried. "I'll keep it as long as I live
and breathe."

"If you do, it'll be the first time you ever kept anything for a week
without breaking it," remarked Aunt Izzie.

Next came a pretty purple pocket-book for Clover. It was just what she
wanted, for she had lost her porte-monnaie. Then a cunning little locket
on a bit of velvet ribbon, which Cousin Helen tied round Elsie's neck.

"There's a piece of my hair in it," she said. "Why, Elsie, darling,
what's the matter? Don't cry so!"

"Oh, you're s-o beautiful, and s-o sweet!" sobbed Elsie; "and you're
go-o-ing away."

Dorry had a box of dominoes, and John a solitaire board. For Phil there
appeared a book--"The History of the Robber Cat."

"That will remind you of the night when the thieves came and chewed your
india-rubbers," said Cousin Helen, with a mischievous smile. They all
laughed, Phil loudest of all.

Nobody was forgotten. There was a notebook for Papa, and a set of ivory
tablets for Aunt Izzie. Even Cecy was remembered. Her present was "The
Book of Golden Deeds," with all sorts of stories about boys and girls
who had done brave and good things. She was almost too pleased to speak.

"Oh, thank you, Cousin Helen!" she said at last. Cecy wasn't a
cousin, but she and the Carr children were in the habit of sharing
their aunts and uncles, and relations generally, as they did their
other good things.

Next day came the sad parting. All the little ones stood at the gate,
to wave their pocket-handkerchiefs as the carriage drove away. When it
was quite out of sight, Katy rushed off to "weep a little weep," all
by herself.

"Papa said he wished we were all like Cousin Helen," she thought, as she
wiped her eyes, "and I mean to try, though I don't suppose if I tried a
thousand years I should ever get to be half so good. I'll study, and
keep my things in order, and be ever so kind to the little ones. Dear
me--if only Aunt Izzie was Cousin Helen, how easy it would be! Never
mind--I'll think about her all the time, and I'll begin to-morrow."




CHAPTER VIII

TO-MORROW


"To-morrow I will begin," thought Katy, as she dropped asleep that
night. How often we all do so! And what a pity it is that when morning
comes and to-morrow is to-day, we so frequently wake up feeling quite
differently; careless or impatient, and not a bit inclined to do the
fine things we planned overnight.

Sometimes it seems as if there must be wicked little imps in the world,
who are kept tied up so long as the sun shines, but who creep into our
bed-rooms when we are asleep, to tease us and ruffle our tempers. Else,
why, when we go to rest good-natured and pleasant, should we wake up so
cross? Now there was Katy. Her last sleepy thought was an intention to
be an angel from that time on, and as much like Cousin Helen as she
could; and when she opened her eyes she was all out of sorts, and as
fractious as a bear! Old Mary said that she got out of bed on the wrong
side. I wonder, by the way, if anybody will ever be wise enough to tell
us which side that is, so that we may always choose the other? How
comfortable it would be if they could!

You know how, if we begin the day in a cross mood, all sorts of
unfortunate accidents seem to occur to add to our vexations. The very
first thing Katy did this morning was to break her precious vase--the
one Cousin Helen had given her.

It was standing on the bureau with a little cluster of blush-roses in
it. The bureau had a swing-glass. While Katy was brushing her hair, the
glass tipped a little so that she could not see. At a good-humored
moment, this accident wouldn't have troubled her much. But being out of
temper to begin with, it made her angry. She gave the glass a violent
push. The lower part swung forward, there was a smash, and the first
thing Katy knew, the blush-roses lay scattered all over the floor, and
Cousin Helen's pretty present was ruined.

Katy just sat down on the carpet and cried as hard as if she had been
Phil himself. Aunt Izzie heard her lamenting, and came in.

"I'm very sorry," she said, picking up the broken glass, "but it's no
more than I expected, you're so careless, Katy. Now don't sit there in
that foolish way! Get up and dress yourself. You'll be late to
breakfast."

"What's the matter?" asked Papa, noticing Katy's red eyes as she took
her seat at the table.

"I've broken my vase," said Katy, dolefully.

"It was extremely careless of you to put it in such a dangerous place,"
said her aunt. "You might have known that the glass would swing and
knock it off." Then, seeing a big tear fall in the middle of Katy's
plate, she added: "Really, Katy, you're too big to behave like a baby.
Why Dorry would be ashamed to do so. Pray control yourself!"

This snub did not improve Katy's temper. She went on with her breakfast
in sulky silence.

"What are you all going to do to-day?" asked Dr. Carr, hoping to give
things a more cheerful turn.

"Swing!" cried John and Dorry both together. "Alexander's put us up a
splendid one in the wood-shed."

"No you're not," said Aunt Izzie in a positive tone, "the swing is not
to be used till to-morrow. Remember that, children. Not till to-morrow.
And not then, unless I give you leave."

This was unwise of Aunt Izzie. She would better have explained farther.
The truth was, that Alexander, in putting up the swing, had cracked one
of the staples which fastened it to the roof. He meant to get a new one
in the course of the day, and, meantime, he had cautioned Miss Carr to
let no one use the swing, because it really was not safe. If she had
told this to the children, all would have been right; but Aunt Izzie's
theory was, that young people must obey their elders without
explanation.

John, and Elsie, and Dorry, all pouted when they heard this order. Elsie
recovered her good-humor first.

"I don't care," she said, "'cause I'm going to be very busy; I've got to
write a letter to Cousin Helen about somefing." (Elsie never could quite
pronounce the _th_.)

"What?" asked Clover.

"Oh, somefing," answered Elsie, wagging her head mysteriously. "None of
the rest of you must know, Cousin Helen said so, it's a secret she and
me has got."

"I don't believe Cousin Helen said so at all," said Katy, crossly. "She
wouldn't tell secrets to a silly little girl like you."

"Yes she would too," retorted Elsie angrily. "She said I was just as
good to trust as if I was ever so big. And she said I was her pet. So
there! Katy Carr!"

"Stop disputing," said Aunt Izzie. "Katy your top-drawer is all out of
order. I never saw anything look so badly. Go up stairs at once and
straighten it, before you do anything else. Children, you must keep in
the shade this morning. It's too hot for you to be running about in the
sun. Elsie, go into the kitchen and tell Debby I want to speak to her."

"Yes," said Elsie, in an important tone, "And afterwards I'm coming back
to write my letter to Cousin Helen."

Katy went slowly up stairs, dragging one foot after the other. It was a
warm, languid day. Her head ached a little, and her eyes smarted and
felt heavy from crying so much. Everything seemed dull and hateful. She
said to herself, that Aunt Izzie was very unkind to make her work in
vacation, and she pulled the top-drawer open with a disgusted groan.

It must be confessed that Miss Izzie was right. A bureau-drawer could
hardly look worse than this one did. It reminded one of the White
Knight's recipe for a pudding, which began with blotting-paper, and
ended with sealing-wax and gunpowder. All sorts of things were mixed
together, as if somebody had put in a long stick and stirred them
well up. There were books and paint-boxes and bits of scribbled
paper, and lead-pencils and brushes. Stocking-legs had come unrolled,
and twisted themselves about pocket-handkerchiefs, and ends of
ribbon, and linen collars.

Ruffles, all crushed out of shape, stuck up from under the heavier
things, and sundry little paper boxes lay empty on top, the treasures
they once held having sifted down to the bottom of the drawer, and
disappeared beneath the general mass.

It took much time and patience to bring order out of this confusion. But
Katy knew that Aunt Izzie would be up by and by, and she dared not stop
till all was done. By the time it was finished, she was very tired.
Going down stairs, she met Elsie coming up with a slate in her hand,
which, as soon as she saw Katy, she put behind her.

"You mustn't look," she said, "it's my letter to Cousin Helen. Nobody
but me knows the secret. It's all written, and I'm going to send it to
the office. See--there's a stamp on it;" and she exhibited a corner of
the slate. Sure enough, there was a stamp stuck on the frame.

"You little goose!" said Katy, impatiently, "you can't send _that_ to
the post-office. Here, give me the slate. I'll copy what you've written
on paper, and Papa'll give you an envelope."

"No, no," cried Elsie, struggling, "you mustn't! You'll see what I've
said and Cousin Helen said I wasn't to tell. It's a secret. Let go of my
slate, I say! I'll tell Cousin Helen what a mean girl you are, and then
she won't love you a bit."

"There, then, take your old slate!" said Katy, giving her a vindictive
push. Elsie slipped, screamed, caught at the banisters, missed them, and
rolling over and over, fell with a thump on the hall floor.

It wasn't much of a fall, only half-a-dozen steps, but the bump was a
hard one, and Elsie roared as if she had been half killed. Aunt Izzie
and Mary came rushing to the spot.

"Katy--pushed--me," sobbed Elsie. "She wanted me to tell her my secret,
and I wouldn't. She's a bad, naughty girl!"

"Well, Katy Carr, I _should_ think you'd be ashamed of yourself," said
Aunt Izzie, "wreaking your temper on your poor little sister! I think
your Cousin Helen will be surprised when she hears this. There, there,
Elsie! Don't cry any more, dear. Come up stairs with me. I'll put on
some arnica, and Katy sha'n't hurt you again."

So they went up stairs. Katy, left below, felt very miserable:
repentant, defiant, discontented, and sulky all at once. She knew in
her heart that she had not meant to hurt Elsie, but was thoroughly
ashamed of that push; but Aunt Izzie's hint about telling Cousin Helen,
had made her too angry to allow of her confessing this to herself or
anybody else.

"I don't care!" she murmured, choking back her tears. "Elsie is a real
cry-baby, anyway. And Aunt Izzie always takes her part. Just because I
told the little silly not to go and send a great heavy slate to the
post-office!"

She went out by the side-door into the yard. As she passed the shed, the
new swing caught her eye.

"How exactly like Aunt Izzie," she thought, "ordering the children not
to swing till she gives them leave. I suppose she thinks it's too hot,
or something. _I_ sha'n't mind her, anyhow."

She seated herself in the swing. It was a first-rate one, with a broad,
comfortable seat, and thick new ropes. The seat hung just the right
distance from the floor. Alexander was a capital hand at putting up
swings, and the wood-shed the nicest possible spot in which to have one.

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