What Katy Did at School

by Susan Coolidge

  ‘Won't you come to the fire, Mrs Page?’ said Katy, rather timidly.

  ‘Don't call me Mrs Page, my dear. Call me Cousin Olivia.’

  Then the newcomer rustled into the parlour, where Johnnie and Phil were waiting to be introduced; and again she remarked that she ‘couldn't realize it’. I don't know why Mrs Page's not realizing it should have made Katy uncomfortable, but it did.

  Supper went off well. The guests ate and praised; and Dr Carr looked pleased, and said: ‘We think Katy an excellent housekeeper for her age.’ At which Katy 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 the evening. Mamma's cousin was entertaining and bright, and told lively stories; but the children felt that she was watching them, and passing judgment on their ways. Children are very quick to suspect when older people hold within themselves these little private courts of inquiry, and they always resent it.

  Next morning Mrs Page sat by while Katy 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 of your age? Why, my Lilly, who is four months older than you, is a perfect child still; impulsive as a baby, bubbling over with fun from morning till night.’

  ‘I've been shut up a good deal,’ said Katy, 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 altogether 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 Katy, 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 Katy known it, Mrs Page attacked Dr Carr upon the subject. He was quite troubled to learn that she considered Katy grave and careworn, and unlike what girls of her age should be. Katy 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 set Katy to wondering. What should papa sigh for? Had she done anything wrong? She began to rack her brains and memory as to whether it could be this or that; or, if not, what could it be? Such needless self-examination does no good. Katy looked ‘more solemn’ than ever after it.

  Altogether, 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, 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, and the excellent order of everything, and said that there never were better children in the world than John, and Dorry, and Phil. But, through all, Katy 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 Katy forgot her disagreeable feelings. Papa seemed a little grave and preoccupied; but 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 Katy into the study to tell her of a new plan. She knew at once that it was something important when she heard his voice; it sounded so grave. Besides, he said, ‘My daughter' – a phrase he never used except upon the most impressive occasions.

  ‘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 Lilly 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, Katy, 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 are twenty.’

  ‘What is the name of the school?’ asked Katy. Her voice sounded a good deal like a sob.

  ‘The girls call it “The Nunnery”. It is at Hills-over, on the Connecticut River, pretty far north. And the winters are pretty cold, I fancy; but the air is sure to be good and bracing. 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; Arrowmouth 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 Katy, opening her candid eyes with such a wondering stare, that Dr Carr laughed, as he patted her cheek, 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 Cecy; so she can tell you what you will need. You'd better consult her tomorrow.’

  ‘But, papa,’ cried Katy, 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 with a sigh; ‘but we shall do very well, Katy; 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 dare say 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.’ And Dr Carr put his arm round Katy, and kissed her so fondly that she was quite overcome, and clung to him, crying –

  ‘O 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, Katy, 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. Katy 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 th
eir 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. ‘We 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 Katy. ‘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 dear, and let us see where we are 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 should 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 are 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 favourite jokes. When mamma first came to Burnet, 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. Mamma was used to hills, so she said yes, and walked on, very glad to find that there was a hill in that 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 uphill 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 sandbank which bordered the lake at Burnet.

  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 Hillsover. 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. Katy begged very hard for Christmas; but when she learned that it would take three days to come and three 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 Miss Petingill 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 woman's, and were done up by Bridget, who dropped many a tear into the starch 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 brides starting on a wedding journey.

  Papa's was a watch for each. They were not new, but the girls thought them beautiful. Katy's had belonged to her mother. It was large and old-fashioned, with a finely-wrought case. Clover's, which had been her grandmother's, 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 papa's confidence, so her presents were watchcases, embroidered on perforated paper. Johnnie gave Katy a box of pencils, and Clover a pen-knife with a pearl handle. Dorry and Phil clubbed to buy a box of notepaper and envelopes, which the girls were requested to divide between them. Miss Petingill contributed a bottle of ginger balsam, and a box of opodeldoc salve, to be used in case of possible chilblains. 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 Katy had time to take her over the house and explain all the different things she wanted done and not done to secure papa's comfort and the children's. Miss Finch was meek and gentle. She seemed glad of a comfortable home. And Katy felt that she would be kind to the boys, and not fret Debby, and drive her into marrying Alexander and going away – an event which Aunt Izzie 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 knack of coming at the moment when most wanted. It contained two pretty silk umbrellas – one brown, and one dark green, with Katy'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; the 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 clamouring for ‘one more – just one more’, Dr Carr, looking at the sober faces, was struck by a bright idea; and calling Alexander, told him to hurry old Whitey into the carriage, and drive the children down to Willett's Point, that they might wave their handkerchiefs to the boat as she 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 hats. Half an hour later, when the boat rounded the point, there stood the little crew, radiant with smiles, fluttering their 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, Katy and Clover felt that the new life opened well, and promised to be very interesting indeed.

  3

  ON THE WAY

  The journey from Burnet 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 patients, 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 state-room, with its narrow shelves of beds, as much as if it had been a baby-house, and they two 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 strange 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 Katy 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 Katy 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 L
illy Page, who was going on to Hillsover with them.

  ‘Do you suppose she is here already?’ asked Katy, 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 Katy's, felt suddenly countrified and shabby.

  ‘Well, Lilly, here they are; here are your cousins,’ said Mr Page, giving the girls a cordial greeting. Lilly only said, ‘How do you do?’ Clover saw her glancing at the grey alpacas, and was conscious of a sudden flush. But perhaps Lilly looked at something beside the alpaca; for after a minute her manner changed, and became more friendly.

  ‘Did you order waffles?’ she asked.

  ‘Waffles? no, I think not,’ replied Katy.

  ‘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. Lilly 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. Lilly, 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. Mr Page went with them. As they crossed the street, Katy was surprised to see that Lilly, 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.