WHAT KATY DID - Complete Illustrated Trilogy: What Katy Did, What Katy Did at School & What Katy Did Next. Susan Coolidge
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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, and 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