and made saucy speeches, and told all her little adventures and the baby’s achievements, and made jests, and talked nonsense as freely as to a person of her own age. It was a delightful relation.
“Grandmamma has taken a fancy to you, I can see,” she told Katy, as they drove back to Longwood. “She always wants to know my friends; and she has her own opinions about them, I can tell you.”
“Do you really think she liked me?” said Katy, warmly. “I am so glad if she did, for I loved her. I never saw a really beautiful old person before.”
“Oh, there’s nobody like her,” rejoined Rose. “I can’t imagine what it would be not to have her.” Her merry little face was quite sad and serious as she spoke. “I wish she were not so old,” she added with a sigh. “If we could only put her back twenty years! Then, perhaps, she would live as long as I do.”
But, alas! there is no putting back the hands on the dial of time, no matter how much we may desire it.
The second day of Katy’s visit was devoted to the luncheon-party of which Rose had written in her letter, and which was meant to be a reunion or “side chapter” of the S.S.U.C. Rose had asked every old Hillsover girl who was within reach. There was Mary Silver, of course, and Esther Dearborn, both of whom lived in Boston; and by good luck Alice Gibbons happened to be making Esther a visit, and Ellen Gray came in from Waltham, where her father had recently been settled over a parish, so that all together they made six of the original nine of the society; and Quaker Row itself never heard a merrier confusion of tongues than resounded through Rose’s pretty parlor for the first hour after the arrival of the guests.
There was everybody to ask after, and everything to tell. The girls all seemed wonderfully unchanged to Katy, but they professed to find her very grown up and dignified.
“I wonder if I am,” she said. “Clover never told me so. But perhaps she has grown dignified too.”
“Nonsense!” cried Rose; “Clover could no more be dignified than my baby could. Mary Silver, give me that child this moment! I never saw such a greedy thing as you are; you have kept her to yourself at least a quarter of an hour, and it isn’t fair.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Mary, laughing and covering her mouth with her hand exactly in her old, shy, half-frightened way.
“We only need Mrs. Nipson to make our little party complete,” went on Rose, “or dear Miss Jane! What has become of Miss Jane, by the way? Do any of you know?”
“Oh, she is still teaching at Hillsover and waiting for her missionary. He has never come back. Berry Searles says that when he goes out to walk he always walks away from the United States, for fear of diminishing the distance between them.”
“What a shame!” said Katy, though she could not help laughing. “Miss Jane was really quite nice—no, not nice exactly, but she had good things about her.”
“Had she!” remarked Rose, satirically. “I never observed them. It required eyes like yours, real ‘double million magnifying-glasses of h’extra power,’ to find them out. She was all teeth and talons as far as I was concerned; but I think she really did have a softish spot in her old heart for you, Katy, and it’s the only good thing I ever knew about her.”
“What has become of Lilly Page?” asked Ellen.
“She’s in Europe with her mother. I dare say you’ll meet, Katy, and what a pleasure that will be! And have you heard about Bella? she’s teaching school in the Indian Territory. Just fancy that scrap teaching school!”
“Isn’t it dangerous?” asked Mary Silver.
“Dangerous? How? To her scholars, do you mean? Oh, the Indians! Well, her scalp will be easy to identify if she has adhered to her favorite pomatum; that’s one comfort,” put in naughty Rose.
It was a merry luncheon indeed, as little Rose seemed to think, for she laughed and cooed incessantly. The girls were enchanted with her, and voted her by acclamation an honorary member of the S.S.U.C. Her health was drunk in Apollinaris water with all the honors, and Rose returned thanks in a droll speech. The friends told each other their histories for the past three years; but it was curious how little, on the whole, most of them had to tell. Though, perhaps, that was because they did not tell all; for Alice Gibbons confided to Katy in a whisper that she strongly suspected Esther of being engaged, and at the same moment Ellen Gray was convulsing Rose by the intelligence that a theological student from Andover was “very attentive” to Mary Silver.
“My dear, I don’t believe it,” Rose said, “not even a theological student would dare! and if he did, I am quite sure Mary would consider it most improper. You must be mistaken, Ellen.”
“No, I’m not mistaken; for the theological student is my second cousin, and his sister told me all about it. They are not engaged exactly, but she hasn’t said no; so he hopes she will say yes.”
“Oh, she’ll never say no; but then she will never say yes, either. He would better take silence as consent! Well, I never did think I should live to see Silvery Mary married. I should as soon have expected to find the Thirty-nine Articles engaged in a flirtation. She’s a dear old thing, though, and as good as gold; and I shall consider your second cousin a lucky man if he persuades her.”
“I wonder where we shall all be when you come back, Katy,” said Esther Dearborn as they parted at the gate. “A year is a long time; all sorts of things may happen in a year.”
These words rang in Katy’s ears as she fell asleep that night. “All sorts of things may happen in a year,” she thought, “and they may not be all happy things, either.” Almost she wished that the journey to Europe had never been thought of!
But when she waked the next morning to the brightest of October suns shining out of a clear blue sky, her misgivings fled. There could not have been a more beautiful day for their start.
She and Rose went early into town, for old Mrs. Bedding had made Katy promise to come for a few minutes to say good-bye. They found her sitting by the fire as usual, though her windows were open to admit the sun-warmed air. A little basket of grapes stood on the table beside her, with a nosegay of tea-roses on top. These were from Rose’s mother, for Katy to take on board the steamer; and there was something else, a small parcel twisted up in thin white paper.
“It is my good-bye gift,” said the dear old lady. “Don’t open it now. Keep it till you are well out at sea, and get some little thing with it as a keepsake from me.”
Grateful and wondering, Katy put the little parcel in her pocket. With kisses and good wishes she parted from these new made friends, and she and Rose drove to the steamer, stopping for Mr. Browne by the way. They were a little late, so there was not much time for farewells after they arrived; but Rose snatched a moment for a private interview with the stewardess, unnoticed by Katy, who was busy with Mrs. Ashe and Amy.
The bell rang, and the great steam-vessel slowly backed into the stream. Then her head was turned to sea, and down the bay she went, leaving Rose and her husband still waving their handkerchiefs on the pier. Katy watched them to the last, and when she could no longer distinguish them, felt that her final link with home was broken.
It was not till she had settled her things in the little cabin which was to be her home for the next ten days, had put her bonnet and dress for safe keeping in the upper berth, nailed up her red and yellow bag, and donned the woollen gown, ulster, and soft felt hat which were to do service during the voyage, that she found time to examine the mysterious parcel.
Behold, it was a large, beautiful gold-piece, twenty dollars!
“What a darling old lady!” said Katy; and she gave the gold-piece a kiss. “How did she come to think of such a thing? I wonder if there is anything in Europe good enough to buy with it?”