Chapter Chapter 8 · TO-MORROW

? Vacations are just

splendid!" and she gave her bag another toss. It fell to the ground

with a crash.

"There, you've cracked your slate," said Clover.

"No matter, I sha'n't want it again for eight weeks," replied Katy,

comfortably, as they ran up the steps.

They burst open the front door and raced up stairs, crying "Hurrah!

hurrah! vacation's begun. Aunt Izzie, vacation's begun!" Then they

stopped short, for lo! the upper hall was all in confusion. Sounds of

beating and dusting came from the spare room. Tables and chairs were

standing about; and a cot-bed, which seemed to be taking a walk all by

itself, had stopped short at the head of the stairs, and barred the way.

"Why, how queer!" said Katy, trying to get by. "What _can_ be going to

happen? Oh, there's Aunt Izzie! Aunt Izzie, who's coming? What _are_ you

moving the things out of the Blue-room for?"

"Oh, gracious! is that you?" replied Aunt Izzie, who looked very hot and

flurried. "Now, children, it's no use for you to stand there asking

questions; I haven't got time to answer them. Let the bedstead alone,

Katy, you'll push it into the wall. There, I told you so!" as Katy gave

an impatient shove, "you've made a bad mark on the paper. What a

troublesome child you are! Go right down stairs, both of you, and don't

come up this way again till after tea. I've just as much as I can

possibly attend to till then."

"Just tell us what's going to happen, and we will," cried the children.

"Your Cousin Helen is coming to visit us," said Miss Izzie, curtly, and

disappeared into the Blue-room.

This was news indeed. Katy and Clover ran down stairs in great

excitement, and after consulting a little, retired to the Loft to talk

it over in peace and quiet. Cousin Helen coming! It seemed as strange as

if Queen Victoria, gold crown and all, had invited herself to tea. Or as

if some character out of a book, Robinson Crusoe, say, or "Amy Herbert,"

had driven up with a trunk and announced the intention of spending a

week. For to the imaginations of the children, Cousin Helen was as

interesting and unreal as anybody in the Fairy Tales: Cinderella, or

Blue-Beard, or dear Red Riding-Hood herself. Only there was a sort of

mixture of Sunday-school book in their idea of her, for Cousin Helen was

very, very good.

None of them had ever seen her. Philly said he was sure she hadn't any

legs, because she never went away from home, and lay on a sofa all the

time. But the rest knew that this was because Cousin Helen was ill. Papa

always went to visit her twice a year, and he liked to talk to the

children about her, and tell how sweet and patient she was, and what a

pretty room she lived in. Katy and Clover had "played Cousin Helen" so

long, that now they were frightened as well as glad at the idea of

seeing the real one.

"Do you suppose she will want us to say hymns to her all the time?"

asked Clover.

"Not all the time," replied Katy, "because you know she'll get tired,

and have to take naps in the afternoons. And then, of course, she reads

the Bible a great deal. Oh dear, how quiet we shall have to be! I wonder

how long she's going to stay?"

"What do you suppose she looks like?" went on Clover.

"Something like 'Lucy,' in Mrs. Sherwood, I guess, with blue eyes, and

curls, and a long, straight nose. And she'll keep her hands clasped _so_

all the time, and wear 'frilled wrappers,' and lie on the sofa perfectly

still, and never smile, but just look patient. We'll have to take off

our boots in the hall, Clover, and go up stairs in stocking feet, so as

not to make a noise, all the time she stays."

"Won't it be funny!" giggled Clover, her sober little face growing

bright at the idea of this variation on the hymns.

The time seemed very long till the next afternoon, when Cousin Helen was

expected. Aunt Izzie, who was in a great excitement, gave the children

many orders about their behavior. They were to do this and that, and not

to do the other. Dorry, at last, announced that he wished Cousin Helen

would just stay at home. Clover and Elsie, who had been thinking pretty

much the same thing in private, were glad to hear that she was on her

way to a Water Cure, and would stay only four days.

Five o'clock came. They all sat on the steps waiting for the carriage.

At last it drove up. Papa was on the box. He motioned the children to

stand back. Then he helped out a nice-looking young woman, who, Aunt

Izzie told them, was Cousin Helen's nurse, and then, very carefully,

lifted Cousin Helen in his arms and brought her in.

"Oh, there are the chicks!" were the first words the children heard, in

such a gay, pleasant voice. "Do set me down somewhere, uncle. I want to

see them so much!"

So Papa put Cousin Helen on the hall sofa. The nurse fetched a pillow,

and when she was made comfortable, Dr. Carr called to the little ones.

"Cousin Helen wants to see you," he said.

"Indeed I do," said the bright voice. "So this is Katy? Why, what a

splendid tall Katy it is! And this is Clover," kissing her; "and this

dear little Elsie. You all look as natural as possible--just as if I had

seen you before."

And she hugged them all round, not as if it was polite to like them

because they were relations, but as if she had loved them and wanted

them all her life.

There was something in Cousin Helen's face and manner, which made the

children at home with her at once. Even Philly, who had backed away with

his hands behind him, after staring hard for a minute or two, came up

with a sort of rush to get his share of kissing.

Still, Katy's first feeling was one of disappointment. Cousin Helen was

not at all like "Lucy," in Mrs. Sherwood's story. Her nose turned up the

least bit in the world. She had brown hair, which didn't curl, a brown

skin, and bright eyes, which danced when she laughed or spoke. Her face

was thin, but except for that you wouldn't have guessed that she was

sick. She didn't fold her hands, and she didn't look patient, but

absolutely glad and merry. Her dress wasn't a "frilled wrapper," but a

sort of loose travelling thing of pretty gray stuff, with a rose-colored

bow, and bracelets, and a round hat trimmed with a gray feather. All

Katy's dreams about the "saintly invalid" seemed to take wings and fly

away. But the more she watched Cousin Helen the more she seemed to like

her, and to feel as if she were nicer than the imaginary person which

she and Clover had invented.

"She looks just like other people, don't she?" whispered Cecy, who had

come over to have a peep at the new arrival.

"Y-e-s," replied Katy, doubtfully, "only a great, great deal prettier."

By and by, Papa carried Cousin Helen up stairs. All the children wanted

to go too, but he told them she was tired, and must rest. So they went

out doors to play till tea-time.

"Oh, do let me take up the tray," cried Katy at the tea-table, as she

watched Aunt Izzie getting ready Cousin Helen's supper. Such a nice

supper! Cold chicken, and raspberries and cream, and tea in a pretty

pink-and-white china cup. And such a snow-white napkin as Aunt Izzie

spread over the tray!

"No indeed," said Aunt Izzie; "you'll drop it the first thing." But

Katy's eyes begged so hard, that Dr. Carr said, "Yes, let her, Izzie; I

like to see the girls useful."

So Katy, proud of the commission, took the tray and carried it

carefully across the hall. There was a bowl of flowers on the table. As

she passed, she was struck with a bright idea. She set down the tray,

and picking out a rose, laid it on the napkin besides the saucer of

crimson raspberries. It looked very pretty, and Katy smiled to herself

with pleasure.

"What are you stopping for?" called Aunt Izzie, from the dining-room.

"Do be careful, Katy, I really think Bridget had better take it."

"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 8. 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.

It was a big place, with a very high roof. There was not much wood left

in it just now, and the little there was, was piled neatly about the

sides of the shed, so as to leave plenty of room. The place felt cool

and dark, and the motion of the swing seemed to set the breeze blowing.

It waved Katy's hair like a great fan, and made her dreamy and quiet.

All sorts of sleepy ideas began to flit through her brain. Swinging to

and fro like the pendulum of a great clock, she gradually rose higher

and higher, driving herself along by the motion of her body, and

striking the floor smartly with her foot, at every sweep. Now she was at

the top of the high arched door. Then she could almost touch the

cross-beam above it, and through the small square window could see

pigeons sitting and pluming themselves on the eaves of the barn, and

white clouds blowing over the blue sky. She had never swung so high

before. It was like flying, she thought, and she bent and curved more

strongly in the seat, trying to send herself yet higher, and graze the

roof with her toes.

Suddenly, at the very highest point of the sweep, there was a sharp

noise of cracking. The swing gave a violent twist, spun half round, and

tossed Katy into the air. She clutched the rope,--felt it dragged from

her grasp,--then, down,--down--down--she fell. All grew dark, and she

knew no more.

When she opened her eyes she was lying on the sofa in the dining-room.

Clover was kneeling beside her with a pale, scared face, and Aunt Izzie

was dropping something cold and wet on her forehead.

"What's the matter?" said Katy, faintly.

"Oh, she's alive--she's alive!" and Clover put her arms round Katy's

neck and sobbed.

"Hush, dear!" Aunt Izzie's voice sounded unusually gentle. "You've had a

bad tumble, Katy. Don't you recollect?"

"A tumble? Oh, yes--out of the swing," said Katy, as it all came

slowly back to her. "Did the rope break, Aunt Izzie? I can't remember

about it."

"No, Katy, not the rope. The staple drew out of the roof. It was a

cracked one, and not safe. Don't you recollect my telling you not to

swing to-day? Did you forget?"

"No, Aunt Izzie--I didn't forget. I--" but here Katy broke down. She

closed her eyes, and big tears rolled from under the lids.

"Don't cry," whispered Clover, crying herself, "please don't. Aunt Izzie

isn't going to scold you." But Katy was too weak and shaken not to cry.

"I think I'd like to go up stairs and lie on the bed," she said. But

when she tried to get off the sofa, everything swam before her, and she

fell back again on the pillow.

"Why, I can't stand up!" she gasped, looking very much frightened.

"I'm afraid you've given yourself a sprain somewhere," said Aunt Izzie,

who looked rather frightened herself. "You'd better lie still a while,

dear, before you try to move. Ah, here's the doctor! well, I am glad."

And she went forward to meet him. It wasn't Papa, but Dr. Alsop, who

lived quite near them.

"I am so relieved that you could come," Aunt Izzie said. "My brother is

gone out of town not to return till to-morrow, and one of the little

girls has had a bad fall."

Dr. Alsop sat down beside the sofa and counted Katy's pulse. Then he

began feeling all over her.

"Can you move this leg?" he asked.

Katy gave a feeble kick.

"And this?"

The kick was a good deal more feeble.

"Did that hurt you?" asked Dr. Alsop, seeing a look of pain on her face.

"Yes, a little," replied Katy, trying hard not to cry.

"In your back, eh? Was the pain high up or low down?" And the doctor

punched Katy's spine for some minutes, making her squirm uneasily.

"I'm afraid she's done some mischief," he said at last, "but it's

impossible to tell yet exactly what. It may be only a twist, or a slight

sprain," he added, seeing the look of terror on Katy's face. "You'd

better get her up stairs and undress her as soon as you can, Miss Carr.

I'll leave a prescription to rub her with." And Dr. Alsop took out a bit

of paper and began to write.

"Oh, must I go to bed?" said Katy. "How long will I have to stay

there, doctor?"

"That depends on how fast you get well," replied the doctor; "not long,

I hope. Perhaps only a few days.

"A few days!" repeated Katy, in a despairing tone.

After the doctor was gone, Aunt Izzie and Debby lifted Katy, and carried

her slowly up stairs. It was not easy, for every motion hurt her, and

the sense of being helpless hurt most of all. She couldn't help crying

after she was undressed and put into bed. It all seemed so dreadful and

strange. If only Papa was here, she thought. But Dr. Carr had gone into

the country to see somebody who was very sick, and couldn't possibly be

back till to-morrow.

Such a long, long afternoon as that was! Aunt Izzie sent up some dinner,

but Katy couldn't eat. Her lips were parched and her head ached

violently. The sun began to pour in, the room grew warm. Flies buzzed in

the window, and tormented her by lighting on her face. Little prickles

of pain ran up and down her back. She lay with her eyes shut, because it

hurt to keep them open, and all sorts of uneasy thoughts went rushing

through her mind.

"Perhaps, if my back is really sprained, I shall have to lie here as

much as a week," she said to herself. "Oh dear, dear! I _can't_. The

vacation is only eight weeks, and I was going to do such lovely things!

How can people be as patient as Cousin Helen when they have to lie

still? Won't she be sorry when she hears! Was it really yesterday that

she went away? It seems a year. If only I hadn't got into that nasty old

swing!" And then Katy began to imagine how it would have been if she

_hadn't_, and how she and Clover had meant to go to Paradise that

afternoon. They might have been there under the cool trees now. As these

thoughts ran through her mind, her head grew hotter and her position in

the bed more uncomfortable.

Suddenly she became conscious that the glaring light from the window was

shaded, and that the wind seemed to be blowing freshly over her. She

opened her heavy eyes. The blinds were shut, and there beside the bed

sat little Elsie, fanning her with a palm-leaf fan.

"Did I wake you up, Katy?" she asked in a timid voice.

Katy looked at her with startled, amazed eyes.

"Don't be frightened," said Elsie, "I won't disturb you. Johnnie and me

are so sorry you're sick," and her little lips trembled. "But we mean to

keep real quiet, and never bang the nursery door, or make noises on the

stairs, till you're well again. And I've brought you somefing real nice.

Some of it's from John, and some from me. It's because you got tumbled

out of the swing. See--" and Elsie pointed triumphantly to a chair,

which she had pulled up close to the bed, and on which were solemnly set

forth: 1st. A pewter tea-set; 2d. A box with a glass lid, on which

flowers were painted; 3d. A jointed doll; 4th. A transparent slate; and

lastly, two new lead pencils!

"They're all yours--yours to keep," said generous little Elsie. "You

can have Pikery, too, if you want. Only he's pretty big, and I'm

afraid he'd be lonely without me. Don't you like the fings, Katy?

They're real pretty!"

It seemed to Katy as if the hottest sort of a coal of fire was burning

into the top of her head as she looked at the treasures on the chair,

and then at Elsie's face all lighted up with affectionate

self-sacrifice. She tried to speak, but began to cry instead, which

frightened Elsie very much.

"Does it hurt you so bad?" she asked, crying, too, from sympathy.

"Oh, no! it isn't that," sobbed Katy, "but I was so cross to you this

morning, Elsie, and pushed you. Oh, please forgive me, please do!"

"Why, it's got well!" said Elsie, surprised. "Aunt Izzie put a fing out

of a bottle on it, and the bump all went away. Shall I go and ask her to

put some on you too--I will." And she ran toward the door.

"Oh, no!" cried Katy, "don't go away, Elsie. Come here and kiss

me, instead."

Elsie turned as if doubtful whether this invitation could be meant for

her. Katy held out her arms. Elsie ran right into them, and the big

sister and the little, exchanged an embrace which seemed to bring their

hearts closer together than they had ever been before.

"You're the most _precious_ little darling," murmured Katy, clasping

Elsie tight. "I've been real horrid to you, Elsie. But I'll never be

again. You shall play with me and Clover, and Cecy, just as much as you

like, and write notes in all the post-offices, and everything else."

"Oh, goody! goody!" cried Elsie, executing little skips of transport.

"How sweet you are, Katy! I mean to love you next best to Cousin Helen

and Papa! And"--racking her brains for some way of repaying this

wonderful kindness--"I'll tell you the secret, if you want me to _very_

much. I guess Cousin Helen would let me."

"No!" said Katy; "never mind about the secret. I don't want you to tell

it to me. Sit down by the bed, and fan me some more instead."

"No!" persisted Elsie, who, now that she had made up her mind to part

with the treasured secret, could not bear to be stopped. "Cousin Helen

gave me a half-dollar, and told me to give it to Debby, and tell her she

was much obliged to her for making her such nice things to eat. And I

did. And Debby was real pleased. And I wrote Cousin Helen a letter, and

told her that Debby liked the half-dollar. That's the secret! Isn't it a

nice one? Only you mustn't tell anybody about it, ever--just as long as

you live."

"No!" said Katy, smiling faintly, "I won't."

All the rest of the afternoon Elsie sat beside the bed with her

palm-leaf fan, keeping off the flies, and "shue"-ing away the other

children when they peeped in at the door. "Do you really like to have me

here?" she asked, more than once, and smiled, oh, _so_ triumphantly!

when Katy said "Yes!" But though Katy said yes, I am afraid it was only

half the truth, for the sight of the dear little forgiving girl, whom

she had treated unkindly, gave her more pain than pleasure.

"I'll be _so_ good to her when I get well," she thought to herself,

tossing uneasily to and fro.

Aunt Izzie slept in her room that night. Katy was feverish. When morning

came, and Dr. Carr returned, he found her in a good deal of pain, hot

and restless, with wide-open, anxious eyes.

"Papa!" she cried the first thing, "must I lie here as much as a week?"

"My darling, I'm afraid you must," replied her father, who looked

worried, and very grave.

"Dear, dear!" sobbed Katy, "how can I bear it?"