The Collected Works of Susan Coolidge: 7 Novels, 35+ Short Stories, Essays & Poems (Illustrated)
if you asked him?”
“But,” said Katy, amazed, “Conic Section isn’t exactly country, you know. It is just out of the city,—only six miles from here. And Mrs. Worrett’s house is close to the road, papa said. Do you think you’d like it, dear? It can’t be very much cooler than this.”
“Oh, yes! it can,” rejoined Elsie, in a tone which was a little fretful. “It’s always cooler on a farm. There’s more room for the wind, and— oh, every thing’s pleasanter! You can’t think how tired I am of this hot house. Last night I hardly slept at all; and, when I did, I dreamed that I was a loaf of brown bread, and Debby was putting me into the oven to bake. It was a horrid dream. I was so glad to wake up. Won’t you ask papa if we may go, Katy?”
“Why, of course I will, if you wish it so much. Only”—Katy stopped and did not finish her sentence. A vision of fat Mrs. Worrett had risen before her, and she could not help doubting if Elsie would find the farm as pleasant as she expected. But sometimes the truest kindness is in giving people their own unwise way, and Elsie’s eyes looked so wistful that Katy had no heart to argue or refuse.
Dr. Carr looked doubtful when the plan was proposed to him.
“It’s too hot,” he said. “I don’t believe the girls will like it.”
“Oh, yes! we will, papa; indeed we will,” pleaded Elsie and John, who had lingered near the door to learn the fate of their request.
Dr. Carr smiled at the imploring faces, but he looked a little quizzical. “Very well,” he said, “you may go. Mr. Worrett is coming into town to-morrow, on some bank business. I’ll send word by him; and in the afternoon, when it is cooler, Alexander can drive you out.”
“Goody! Goody!” cried John, jumping up and down, while Elsie put her arms round papa’s neck and gave him a hug.
“And Thursday I’ll send for you,” he continued.
“But, papa,” expostulated Elsie, “That’s only two days. Mrs. Worrett said a week.”
“Yes, she said a week,” chimed in John; “and she’s got ever so many chickens, and I’m to feed ‘em, and chase ‘em as much as I like. Only it’s too hot to run much,” she added reflectively.
“You won’t really send for us on Thursday, will you, papa?” urged
Elsie, anxiously. “I’d like to stay ever and ever so long; but Mrs.
Worrett said a week.”
“I shall send on Thursday,” repeated Dr. Carr, in a decided tone. Then, seeing that Elsie’s lip was trembling, and her eyes were full of tears, he continued: “Don’t look so woeful, Pussy. Alexander shall drive out for you; but if you want to stay longer, you may send him back with a note to say what day you would like to have him come again. Will that do?”
“Oh, yes!” said Elsie, wiping her eyes; “that will do beautifully, papa. Only, it seems such a pity that Alexander should have to go twice when it’s so hot; for we’re perfectly sure to want to stay a week.”
Papa only laughed, as he kissed her. All being settled the children began to get ready. It was quite an excitement packing the bags, and deciding what to take and what not to take. Elsie grew bright and gay with the bustle. Just to think of being in the country,—the cool green country,—made her perfectly happy, she declared. The truth was, she was a little feverish and not quite well, and didn’t know exactly how she felt or what she wanted.
The drive out was pleasant, except that Alexander upset John’s gravity, and hurt Elsie’s dignity very much, by inquiring, as they left the gate, “Do the little misses know where it is that they want to go?” Part of the way the road ran through woods. They were rather boggy woods; but the dense shade kept off the sun, and there was a spicy smell of evergreens and sweet fern. Elsie felt that the good time had fairly begun and her spirits rose with every turn of the wheels.
By and by they left the woods, and came out again into the sunshine. The road was dusty, and so were the fields, and the ragged sheaves of corn-stalks, which dotted them here and there, looked dusty too. Piles of dusty red apples lay on the grass, under the orchard trees. Some cows going down a lane toward their milking shed, mooed in a dispirited and thirsty way, which made the children feel thirsty also.
“I want a drink of water awfully,” said John. “Do you suppose it’s much farther? How long will it be before we get to Mrs. Worrett’s, Alexander?”
“‘Most there, miss,” replied Alexander, laconically.
Elsie put her head out of the carriage, and looked eagerly round. Where was the delightful farm? She saw a big, pumpkin-colored house by the roadside, a little farther on; but surely that couldn’t be it. Yes: Alexander drew up at the gate, and jumped down to lift. them out. It really was! The surprise quite took away her breath.
She looked about. There were the woods, to be sure, but half a mile away across the fields. Near the house, there were no trees at all; only some lilac bushes at one side; there was no green grass either. A gravel path took up the whole of the narrow front yard; and, what with the blazing color of the paint and the wide-awake look of the blindless windows, the house had somehow the air of standing on tip-toe and staring hard at something,—the dust in the road, perhaps; for there seemed to be nothing to stare at.
Elsie’s heart sank indescribably, as she and John got very slowly out of the carryall, and Alexander, putting his arm over the fence, rapped loudly at the front door. It was some minutes before the rap was answered. Then a heavy step was heard creaking through the hall, and somebody began fumbling at an obstinate bolt, which would not move. Next, a voice which they recognized as Mrs. Worrett’s called: “Isaphiny, Isaphiny, come and see if you can open this door.”
“How funny!” whispered Johnnie, beginning to giggle.
“Isaphiny” seemed to be upstairs; for presently they heard her running down, after which a fresh rattle began at the obstinate bolt. But still the door did not open, and at length Mrs. Worrett put her lips to the keyhole, and asked,—
“Who is it?”
The voice sounded so hollow and ghostly, that Elsie jumped, as she answered: “It’s I, Mrs. Worrett,—Elsie Carr. And Johnnie’s here, too.”
“Ts, ts, ts!” sounded from within, and then came a whispering; after
which Mrs. Worrett put her mouth again to the keyhole, and called out:
“Go round to the back, children. I can’t make this door open anyway.
It’s swelled up with the damp.”
“Damp!” whispered Johnnie; “why, it hasn’t rained since the third week in August; papa said so yesterday.”
“That’s nothing, Miss Johnnie,” put in Alexander, overhearing her. “Folks hereaway don’t open their front doors much,—only for weddings and funerals and such like. Very likely this has stood shut these five years. I know the last time I drove Miss Carr out, before she died, it was just so; and she had to go round to the back, as you’re a-doing now.”
John’s eyes grew wide with wonder; but there was no time to say any thing, for they had turned the corner of the house, and there was Mrs. Worrett waiting at the kitchen door to receive them. She looked fatter than ever, Elsie thought; but she kissed them both, and said she was real glad to see a Carr in her house at last.
“It was too bad,” she went on, “to keep you waiting so. But the fact is I got asleep and when you knocked, I waked up all in a daze, and for a minute it didn’t come to me who it must be. Take the bags right upstairs, Isaphiny; and put them in the keeping-room chamber. How’s your pa, Elsie,—and Katy? Not laid up again, I hope.”
“Oh, no; she seems to get better all the time.”
“That’s right,” responded Mrs. Worrett, heartily. “I didn’t know but what,