The Collected Works of Susan Coolidge: 7 Novels, 35+ Short Stories, Essays & Poems (Illustrated)
of September, won’t it?” said Katy. “Then, Papa, if I may, I’ll come down for the first time on the eighth. It was Mamma’s birthday, you know,” she added in a lower voice.
So it was settled. “How delicious!” cried Clover, skipping about and clapping her hands; “I never, never, never did hear of anything so perfectly lovely. Papa, when are you coming down stairs? I want to speak to you dreadfully.”
“Right away – rather than have my coat-tails pulled off,” answered Dr. Carr, laughing, and they went away together. Katy sat looking out of the window in a peaceful, happy mood.
“Oh!” she thought, “can it really be? Is School going to ‘let out,’ just as Cousin Helen’s hymn said? Am I going to
‘Bid a sweet good-by to Pain?’
But there was Love in the Pain. I see it now. How good the dear Teacher has been to me!”
Clover seemed to be very busy all the rest of that week. She was “having windows washed,” she said, but this explanation hardly accounted for her long absences, and the mysterious exultation on her face, not to mention certain sounds of hammering and sawing which came from down stairs. The other children had evidently been warned to say nothing; for once or twice Philly broke out with, “O Katy!” and then hushed himself up, saying, “I most forgot!” Katy grew very curious. But she saw that the secret, whatever it was, gave immense satisfaction to everybody except herself; so, though she longed to know, she concluded not to spoil the fun by asking any questions.
At last it wanted but one day of the important occasion.
“See,” said Katy, as Clover came into the room a little before tea-time. “Miss Petingill has brought home my new dress. I’m going to wear it for the first time to go down stairs in.”
“How pretty!” said Clover, examining the dress, which was a soft, dove-colored cashmere, trimmed with ribbon of the same shade. “But, Katy, I came up to shut your door. Bridget’s going to sweep the hall, and I don’t want the dust to fly in, because your room was brushed this morning, you know.”
“What a queer time to sweep the hall!” said Katy, wondering. “Why don’t you make her wait till morning?”
“Oh, she can’t! There are – she has – I mean there will be other things for her to do to-morrow. It’s a great deal more convenient that she should do it now. Don’t worry, Katy, darling, but just keep your door shut. You will, won’t you? Promise me!”
“Very well,” said Katy, more and more amazed, but yielding to Clover’s eagerness. “I’ll keep it shut.” Her curiosity was excited. She took a book and tried to read, but the letters danced up and down before her eyes, and she couldn’t help listening. Bridget was making a most ostentatious noise with her broom, but through it all, Katy seemed to hear other sounds – feet on the stairs, doors opening and shutting – once, a stifled giggle. How queer it all was!
“Never mind,” she said, resolutely stopping her ears, “I shall know all about it to-morrow.”
To-morrow dawned fresh and fair – the very ideal of a September day.
“Katy!” said Clover, as she came in from the garden with her hands full of flowers, “that dress of yours is sweet. You never looked so nice before in your life!” And she stuck a beautiful carnation pink under Katy’s breast-pin, and fastened another in her hair.
“There!” she said, “now you’re adorned. Papa is coming up in a few minutes to take you down.”
Just then Elsie and Johnnie came in. They had on their best frocks. So had Clover. It was evidently a festival-day to all the house. Cecy followed, invited over for the special purpose of seeing Katy walk down stairs. She, too, had on a new frock.
“How fine we are!” said Clover, as she remarked this magnificence. “Turn round, Cecy – a panier, I do declare – and a sash! You are getting awfully grown up, Miss Hall.”
“None of us will ever be so ‘grown up’ as Katy,” said Cecy, laughing.
And now Papa appeared. Very slowly they all went down stairs, Katy leaning on Papa, with Dorry on her other side, and the girls behind, while Philly clattered ahead. And there were Debby and Bridget and Alexander, peeping out of the kitchen door to watch her, and dear old Mary with her apron at her eyes, crying for joy.
“Oh, the front door is open!” said Katy, in a delighted tone. “How nice! And what a pretty oil-cloth. That’s new since I was here.”
“Don’t stop to look at that! ” cried Philly, who seemed in a great hurry about something. “It isn’t new. It’s been there ever and ever so long! Come into the parlor instead.”
“Yes!” said Papa, “dinner isn’t quite ready yet, you’ll have time to rest a little after your walk down stairs. You have borne it admirably, Katy. Are you very tired?”
“Not a bit!” replied Katy, cheerfully. “I could do it alone, I think. Oh! the bookcase door has been mended! How nice it looks.”
“Don’t wait, oh, don’t wait!” repeated Phil, in an agony of impatience.
So they moved on. Papa opened the parlor door. Katy took one step into the room – then stopped. The color flashed over her face, and she held by the door-knob to support herself. What was it that she saw?
Not merely the room itself, with its fresh muslin curtains and vases of flowers. Nor even the wide, beautiful window which had been cut toward the sun, or the inviting little couch and table which stood there, evidently for her. No, there was something else! The sofa was pulled out, and there upon it, supported by pillows, her bright eyes turned to the door, lay – Cousin Helen! When she saw Katy, she held out her arms.
Clover and Cecy agreed afterward that they never were so frightened in their lives as at this moment; for Katy, forgetting her weakness, let go of Papa’s arm, and absolutely ran toward the sofa. “Oh, Cousin Helen! dear, dear Cousin Helen!” she cried. Then she tumbled down by the sofa somehow, the two pairs of arms and the two faces met, and for a moment or two not a word more was heard from anybody.
“Isn’t it a nice ‘prise?” shouted Philly, turning a somerset by way of relieving his feelings, while John and Dorry executed a sort of war-dance round the sofa.
Phil’s voice seemed to break the spell of silence, and a perfect hubbub of questions and exclamations began.
It appeared that this happy thought of getting Cousin Helen to the “Celebration,” was Clover’s. She it was who had proposed it to Papa, and made all the arrangements. And, artful puss! she had set Bridget to sweep the hall, on purpose that Katy might not hear the noise of the arrival.
“Cousin Helen’s going to stay three weeks this time – isn’t that nice?” asked Elsie, while Clover anxiously questioned: “Are you sure that you didn’t suspect? Not one bit? Not the least tiny, weeny mite?”
“No, indeed – not the least. How could I suspect anything so perfectly delightful?” and Katy gave Cousin Helen another rapturous kiss.
Such a short day as that seemed! There was so much to see, to ask about, to talk over, that the hours flew, and evening dropped upon them all like another great surprise.
Cousin Helen was perhaps the happiest of the party. Beside the pleasure of knowing Katy to be almost well again, she had the additional enjoyment of seeing for herself how many changes for the better had taken place, during the four years, among the little cousins she loved so much.
It was very interesting to watch them all. Elsie and Dorry seemed to her the most improved of the family. Elsie had quite lost her plaintive look and little injured tone, and was as bright and beaming a maiden of twelve as any one could wish to see. Dorry’s moody face had grown open and sensible, and his manners were good-humored and obliging. He was still a sober boy, and not specially quick in catching an idea, but he promised to turn out a valuable man. And to him, as to all the other