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WHAT KATY DID
WHAT KATY DID SUSAN COOLIDGE With Frontispiece in Color by Ralph Pallen Coleman
TO FIVE.
Six of us once my darlings played together
Beneath green boughs which faded long ago
Made merry in the golden summer weather
Pelted each other with new-fallen snow.
Did the sun always shine? I can't remember
A single cloud that dimmed the happy blue--
A single lightning-bolt or peal of thunder
To daunt our bright unfearing lives: can you?
We quarrelled often but made peace as quickly
Shed many tears but laughed the while they fell
Had our small woes our childish bumps and bruises
But Mother always "kissed and made them well."
Is it long since?--it seems a moment only:
Yet here we are in bonnets and tail-coats
Grave men of business members of committees
Our play-time ended: even Baby votes!
And star-eyed children in whose innocent faces
Kindles the gladness which was once our own
Crowd round our knees with sweet and coaxing voices
Asking for stories of that old-time home.
"Were _you_ once little too?" they say astonished;
"Did you too play? How funny! tell us how."
Almost we start forgetful for a moment;
Almost we answer "We are little _now!_"
Dear friend and lover whom to-day we christen
Forgive such brief bewilderment--thy true
And kindly hand we hold; we own thee fairest.
But ah! our yesterday was precious too.
So darlings take this little childish story
In which some gleams of the old sunshine play
And as with careless hands you turn the pages
Look back and smile as here I smile to-day.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE LITTLE CARRS
II PARADISE
III THE DAY OF SCRAPES
IV KIKERI
V IN THE LOFT
VI INTIMATE FRIENDS
VII COUSIN HELEN'S VISIT
VIII TO-MORROW
IX DISMAL DAYS
X ST. NICHOLAS AND ST. VALENTINE
XI A NEW LESSON TO LEARN
XII TWO YEARS AFTERWARD
XIII AT LAST
CHAPTER I
THE LITTLE CARRS
I was sitting in the meadows one day not long ago at a place where
there was a small brook. It was a hot day. The sky was very blue and
white clouds like great swans went floating over it to and fro. Just
opposite me was a clump of green rushes with dark velvety spikes and
among them one single tall red cardinal flower which was bending over
the brook as if to see its own beautiful face in the water. But the
cardinal did not seem to be vain.
The picture was so pretty that I sat a long time enjoying it. Suddenly
close to me two small voices began to talk--or to sing for I couldn't
tell exactly which it was. One voice was shrill; the other which was a
little deeper sounded very positive and cross. They were evidently
disputing about something for they said the same words over and over
again. These were the words--"Katy did." "Katy didn't." "She did." "She
didn't." "She did." "She didn't." "Did." "Didn't." I think they must
have repeated them at least a hundred times.
I got up from my seat to see if I could find the speakers; and sure
enough there on one of the cat-tail bulrushes I spied two tiny
pale-green creatures. Their eyes seemed to be weak for they both wore
black goggles. They had six legs apiece--two short ones two not so
short and two very long. These last legs had joints like the springs to
buggy-tops; and as I watched they began walking up the rush and then I
saw that they moved exactly like an old-fashioned gig. In fact if I
hadn't been too big I _think_ I should have heard them creak as they
went along. They didn't say anything so long as I was there but the
moment my back was turned they began to quarrel again and in the same
old words--"Katy did." "Katy didn't." "She did." "She didn't."
As I walked home I fell to thinking about another Katy--a Katy I once
knew who planned to do a great many wonderful things and in the end
did none of them but something quite different--something she didn't
like at all at first but which on the whole was a great deal better
than any of the doings she had dreamed about. And as I thought this
little story grew in my head and I resolved to write it down for you. I
have done it; and in memory of my two little friends on the bulrush I
give it their name. Here it is--the story of What Katy Did.
Katy's name was Katy Carr. She lived in the town of Burnet which wasn't
a very big town but was growing as fast as it knew how. The house she
lived in stood on the edge of the town. It was a large square house
white with green blinds and had a porch in front over which roses and
clematis made a thick bower. Four tall locust trees shaded the gravel
path which led to the front gate. On one side of the house was an
orchard; on the other side were wood piles and barns and an ice-house.
Behind was a kitchen garden sloping to the south; and behind that a
pasture with a brook in it and butternut trees and four cows--two red
ones a yellow one with sharp horns tipped with tin and a dear little
white one named Daisy.
There were six of the Carr children--four girls and two boys. Katy the
oldest was twelve years old; little Phil the youngest was four and
the rest fitted in between.
Dr. Carr their Papa was a dear kind busy man who was away from home
all day and sometimes all night too taking care of sick people. The
children hadn't any Mamma. She had died when Phil was a baby four years
before my story began. Katy could remember her pretty well; to the rest
she was but a sad sweet name spoken on Sunday and at prayer-times or
when Papa was especially gentle and solemn.
In place of this Mamma whom they recollected so dimly there was Aunt
Izzie Papa's sister who came to take care of them when Mamma went away
on that long journey from which for so many months the little ones
kept hoping she might return. Aunt Izzie was a small woman sharp-faced
and thin rather old-looking and very neat and particular about
everything. She meant to be kind to the children but they puzzled her
much because they were not a bit like herself when she was a child.
Aunt Izzie had been a gentle tidy little thing who loved to sit as
Curly Locks did sewing long seams in the parlor and to have her head
patted by older people and be told that she was a good girl; whereas
Katy tore her dress every day hated sewing and didn't care a button
about being called "good" while Clover and Elsie shied off like
restless ponies when any one tried to pat their heads. It was very
perplexing to Aunt Izzie and she found it hard to quite forgive the
children for being so "unaccountable" and so little like the good boys
and girls in Sunday-school memoirs who were the young people she liked
best and understood most about.
Then Dr. Carr was another person who worried her. He wished to have the
children hardy and bold and encouraged climbing and rough plays in
spite of the bumps and ragged clothes which resulted. In fact there was
just one half-hour of the day when Aunt Izzie was really satisfied about
her charges and that was the half-hour before breakfast when she had
made a law that they were all to sit in their little chairs and learn
the Bible verse for the day. At this time she looked at them with
pleased eyes they were all so spick and span with such nicely-brushed
jackets and such neatly-combed hair. But the moment the bell rang her
comfort was over. From that time on they were what she called "not fit
to be seen." The neighbors pitied her very much. They used to count the
sixty stiff white pantalette legs hung out to dry every Monday morning
and say to each other what a sight of washing those children made and
what a chore it must be for poor Miss Carr to keep them so nice. But
poor Miss Carr didn't think them at all nice; that was the worst of it.
"Clover go up stairs and wash your hands! Dorry pick your hat off the
floor and hang it on the nail! Not that nail--the third nail from the
corner!" These were the kind of things Aunt Izzie was saying all day
long. The children minded her pretty well but they didn't exactly love
her I fear. They called her "Aunt Izzie" always never "Aunty." Boys
and girls will know what _that_ meant.
I want to show you the little Carrs and I don't know that I could ever
have a better chance than one day when five out of the six were perched
on top of the ice-house like chickens on a roost. This ice-house was
one of their favorite places. It was only a low roof set over a hole in
the ground and as it stood in the middle of the side-yard it always
seemed to the children that the shortest road to every place was up one
of its slopes and down the other. They also liked to mount to the
ridge-pole and then still keeping the sitting position to let go and
scrape slowly down over the warm shingles to the ground. It was bad for
their shoes and trousers of course but what of that? Shoes and
trousers and clothes generally were Aunt Izzie's affair; theirs was to
slide and enjoy themselves.
Clover next in age to Katy sat in the middle. She was a fair sweet
dumpling of a girl with thick pig-tails of light brown hair and
short-sighted blue eyes which seemed to hold tears just ready to fall
from under the blue. Really Clover was the jolliest little thing in the
world; but these eyes and her soft cooing voice always made people
feel like petting her and taking her part. Once when she was very
small she ran away with Katy's doll and when Katy pursued and tried
to take it from her Clover held fast and would not let go. Dr. Carr
who wasn't attending particularly heard nothing but the pathetic tone
of Clover's voice as she said: "Me won't! Me want dolly!" and without
stopping to inquire he called out sharply: "For shame Katy! give your
sister _her_ doll at once!" which Katy much surprised did; while
Clover purred in triumph like a satisfied kitten. Clover was sunny and
sweet-tempered a little indolent and very modest about herself
though in fact she was particularly clever in all sorts of games and
extremely droll and funny in a quiet way. Everybody loved her and she
loved everybody especially Katy whom she looked up to as one of the
wisest people in the world.
Pretty little Phil sat next on the roof to Clover and she held him
tight with her arm. Then came Elsie a thin brown child of eight with
beautiful dark eyes and crisp short curls covering the whole of her
small head. Poor little Elsie was the "odd one" among the Carrs. She
didn't seem to belong exactly to either the older or the younger
children. The great desire and ambition of her heart was to be allowed
to go about with Katy and Clover and Cecy Hall and to know their
secrets and be permitted to put notes into the little post-offices they
were forever establishing in all sorts of hidden places. But they didn't
want Elsie and used to tell her to "run away and play with the
children" which hurt her feelings very much. When she wouldn't run
away I am sorry to say they ran away from her which as their legs
were longest it was easy to do. Poor Elsie left behind would cry
bitter tears and as she was too proud to play much with Dorry and
John her principal comfort was tracking the older ones about and
discovering their mysteries especially the post-offices which were her
greatest grievance. Her eyes were bright and quick as a bird's. She
would peep and peer and follow and watch till at last in some odd
unlikely place the crotch of a tree the middle of the asparagus bed
or perhaps on the very top step of the scuttle ladder she spied the
little paper box with its load of notes all ending with: "Be sure and
not let Elsie know." Then she would seize the box and marching up to
wherever the others were she would throw it down saying defiantly:
"There's your old post-office!" but feeling all the time just like
crying. Poor little Elsie! In almost every big family there is one of
these unmated left-out children. Katy who had the finest plans in the
world for being "heroic" and of use never saw as she drifted on her
heedless way that here in this lonely little sister was the very
chance she wanted for being a comfort to somebody who needed comfort
very much. She never saw it and Elsie's heavy heart went uncheered.
Dorry and Joanna sat on the two ends of the ridge-pole. Dorry was six
years old; a pale pudgy boy with rather a solemn face and smears of
molasses on the sleeve of his jacket. Joanna whom the children called
"John" and "Johnnie" was a square splendid child a year younger than
Dorry; she had big brave eyes and a wide rosy mouth which always
looked ready to laugh. These two were great friends though Dorry seemed
like a girl who had got into boy's clothes by mistake and Johnnie like
a boy who in a fit of fun had borrowed his sister's frock. And now as
they all sat there chattering and giggling the window above opened a
glad shriek was heard and Katy's head appeared. In her hand she held a
heap of stockings which she waved triumphantly.
"Hurray!" she cried "all done and Aunt Izzie says we may go. Are you
tired out waiting? I couldn't help it the holes were so big and took
so long. Hurry up Clover and get the things! Cecy and I will be down
in a minute."
The children jumped up gladly and slid down the roof. Clover fetched a
couple of baskets from the wood-shed. Elsie ran for her kitten. Dorry
and John loaded themselves with two great fagots of green boughs. Just
as they were ready the side-door banged and Katy and Cecy Hall came
into the yard.
I must tell you about Cecy. She was a great friend of the children's
and lived in a house next door. The yards of the houses were only
separated by a green hedge with no gate so that Cecy spent two-thirds
of her time at Dr. Carr's and was exactly like one of the family. She
was a neat dapper pink-and-white-girl modest and prim in manner with
light shiny hair which always kept smooth and slim hands which never
looked dirty. How different from my poor Katy! Katy's hair was forever
in a snarl; her gowns were always catching on nails and tearing
"themselves"; and in spite of her age and size she was as heedless and
innocent as a child of six. Katy was the _longest_ girl that was ever
seen. What she did to make herself grow so nobody could tell; but there
she was--up above Papa's ear and half a head taller than poor Aunt
Izzie. Whenever she stopped to think about her height she became very
awkward and felt as if she were all legs and elbows and angles and
joints. Happily her head was so full of other things of plans and
schemes and fancies of all sorts that she didn't often take time to
remember how tall she was. She was a dear loving child for all her
careless habits and made bushels of good resolutions every week of her
life only unluckily she never kept any of them. She had fits of
responsibility about the other children and longed to set them a good
example but when the chance came she generally forgot to do so. Katy's
days flew like the wind; for when she wasn't studying lessons or sewing
and darning with Aunt Izzie which she hated extremely there were
always so many delightful schemes rioting in her brains that all she
wished for was ten pairs of hands to carry them out. These same active
brains got her into perpetual scrapes. She was fond of building castles
in the air and dreaming of the time when something she had done would
make her famous so that everybody would hear of her and want to know
her. I don't think she had made up her mind what this wonderful thing
was to be; but while thinking about it she often forgot to learn a
lesson or to lace her boots and then she had a bad mark or a scolding
from Aunt Izzie. At such times she consoled herself with planning how
by and by she would be beautiful and beloved and amiable as an angel.
A great deal was to happen to Katy before that time came. Her eyes
which were black were to turn blue; her nose was to lengthen and
straighten and her mouth quite too large at present to suit the part
of a heroine was to be made over into a sort of rosy button. Meantime
and until these charming changes should take place Katy forgot her
features as much as she could though still I think the person on
earth whom she most envied was that lady on the outside of the
Tricopherous bottles with the wonderful hair which sweeps the ground.
CHAPTER II
PARADISE
The place to which the children were going was a sort of marshy thicket
at the bottom of a field near the house. It wasn't a big thicket but it
looked big because the trees and bushes grew so closely that you could
not see just where it ended. In winter the ground was damp and boggy so
that nobody went there excepting cows who don't mind getting their
feet wet; but in summer the water dried away and then it was all fresh
and green and full of delightful things--wild roses and sassafras and
birds' nests. Narrow winding paths ran here and there made by the
cattle as they wandered to and fro. This place the children called
"Paradise" and to them it seemed as wide and endless and full of
adventure as any forest of fairy land.
The way to Paradise was through some wooden bars. Katy and Cecy climbed
these with a hop skip and jump while the smaller ones scrambled
underneath. Once past the bars they were fairly in the field and with
one consent they all began to run till they reached the entrance of the
wood. Then they halted with a queer look of hesitation on their faces.
It was always an exciting occasion to go to Paradise for the first time
after the long winter. Who knew what the fairies might not have done
since any of them had been there to see?
"Which path shall we go in by?" asked Clover at last.
"Suppose we vote" said Katy. "I say by the Pilgrim's Path and the Hill
of Difficulty."
"So do I!" chimed in Clover who always agreed with Katy.
"The Path of Peace is nice" suggested Cecy.
"No no! We want to go by Sassafras Path!" cried John and Dorry.
However Katy as usual had her way. It was agreed that they should
first try Pilgrim's Path and afterward make a thorough exploration of
the whole of their little kingdom and see all that had happened since
last they were there. So in they marched Katy and Cecy heading the
procession and Dorry with his great trailing bunch of boughs bringing
up the rear.
"Oh there is the dear Rosary all safe!" cried the children as they
reached the top of the Hill of Difficulty and came upon a tall stump
out of the middle of which waved a wild rose-bush budded over with
fresh green eaves. This "Rosary" was a fascinating thing to their minds.
They were always inventing stories about it and were in constant terror
lest some hungry cow should take a fancy to the rose-bush and eat it up.
"Yes" said Katy stroking a leaf with her finger "it was in great
danger one night last winter but it escaped."
"Oh how? Tell us about it!" cried the others for Katy's stories were
famous in the family.
"It was Christmas Eve" continued Katy in a mysterious tone. "The fairy
of the Rosary was quite sick. She had taken a dreadful cold in her head
and the poplar-tree fairy just over there told her that sassafras tea
is good for colds. So she made a large acorn-cup full and then cuddled
herself in where the wood looks so black and soft and fell asleep. In
the middle of the night when she was snoring soundly there was a noise
in the forest and a dreadful black bull with fiery eyes galloped up. He
saw our poor Rosy Posy and opening his big mouth he was just going to
bite her in two; but at that minute a little fat man with a wand in his
hand popped out from behind the stump. It was Santa Claus of course.
He gave the bull such a rap with his wand that he moo-ed dreadfully and
then put up his fore-paw to see if his nose was on or not. He found it
was but it hurt him so that he 'moo-ed' again and galloped off as fast
as he could into the woods. Then Santa Claus waked up the fairy and
told her that if she didn't take better care of Rosy Posy he should put
some other fairy into her place and set her to keep guard over a
prickly scratchy blackberry-bush."
"Is there really any fairy?" asked Dorry who had listened to this
narrative with open mouth.
"Of course" answered Katy. Then bending down toward Dorry she added in
a voice intended to be of wonderful sweetness: "I am a fairy Dorry!"
"Pshaw!" was Dorry's reply; "you're a giraffe--Pa said so!"
The Path of Peace got its name because of its darkness and coolness.
High bushes almost met over it and trees kept it shady even in the
middle of the day. A sort of white flower grew there which the children
called Pollypods because they didn't know the real name. They staid a
long while picking bunches of these flowers and then John and Dorry had
to grub up an armful of sassafras roots; so that before they had fairly
gone through Toadstool Avenue Rabbit Hollow and the rest the sun was
just over their heads and it was noon.
"I'm getting hungry" said Dorry.
"Oh no Dorry you mustn't be hungry till the bower is ready!" cried
the little girls alarmed for Dorry was apt to be disconsolate if he
was kept waiting for his meals. So they made haste to build the bower.
It did not take long being composed of boughs hung over skipping-ropes
which were tied to the very poplar-tree where the fairy lived who had
recommended sassafras tea to the Fairy of the Rose.
When it was done they all cuddled in underneath. It was a very small
bower--just big enough to hold them and the baskets and the kitten. I
don't think there would have been room for anybody else not even
another kitten. Katy who sat in the middle untied and lifted the lid
of the largest basket while all the rest peeped eagerly to see what
was inside.
First came a great many ginger cakes. These were carefully laid on the
grass to keep till wanted: buttered biscuit came next--three apiece
with slices of cold lamb laid in between; and last of all were a dozen
hard-boiled eggs and a layer of thick bread and butter sandwiched with
corn-beef. Aunt Izzie had put up lunches for Paradise before you see
and knew pretty well what to expect in the way of appetite.
Oh how good everything tasted in that bower with the fresh wind
rustling the poplar leaves sunshine and sweet wood-smells about them
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