The Collected Works of Susan Coolidge: 7 Novels, 35+ Short Stories, Essays & Poems (Illustrated)
your trunk upside down! When I think of all the delightful things you are going to do, I can hardly sit still. I love Mrs. Ashe for inviting you.”
“So do I,” said Katy, soberly. “It was the kindest thing! I can’t think why she did it.”
“Well, I can,” replied Clover, always ready to defend Katy even against herself. “She did it because she wanted you, and she wanted you because you are the dearest old thing in the world, and the nicest to have about. You needn’t say you’re not, for you are! Now, Katy, don’t waste another thought on such miserable things as pickles and undershirts. We shall get along perfectly well, I do assure you. Just fix your mind instead on the dome of St. Peter’s, or try to fancy how you’ll feel the first time you step into a gondola or see the Mediterranean. There will be a moment! I feel a forty-horse power of housekeeping developing within me; and what fun it will be to get your letters! We shall fetch out the Encyclopaedia and the big Atlas and the ‘History of Modern Europe,’ and read all about everything you see and all the places you go to; and it will be as good as a lesson in geography and history and political economy all combined, only a great deal more interesting! We shall stick out all over with knowledge before you come back; and this makes it a plain duty to go, if it were only for our sakes.” With these zealous promises, Katy was forced to be content. Indeed, contentment was not difficult with such a prospect of delight before her. When once her little anxieties had been laid aside, the idea of the coming journey grew in pleasantness every moment. Night after night she and papa and the children pored over maps and made out schemes for travel and sight-seeing, every one of which was likely to be discarded as soon as the real journey began. But they didn’t know that, and it made no real difference. Such schemes are the preliminary joys of travel, and it doesn’t signify that they come to nothing after they have served their purpose.
Katy learned a great deal while thus talking over what she was to see and do. She read every scrap she could lay her hand on which related to Rome or Florence or Venice or London. The driest details had a charm for her now that she was likely to see the real places. She went about with scraps of paper in her pocket, on which were written such things as these: “Forum. When built? By whom built? More than one?” “What does Cenacola mean?” “Cecilia Metella. Who was she?” “Find out about Saint Catherine of Siena.” “Who was Beatrice Cenci?” How she wished that she had studied harder and more carefully before this wonderful chance came to her. People always wish this when they are starting for Europe; and they wish it more and more after they get there, and realize of what value exact ideas and information and a fuller knowledge of the foreign languages are to all travellers; how they add to the charm of everything seen, and enhance the ease of everything done.
All Burnet took an interest in Katy’s plans, and almost everybody had some sort of advice or help, or some little gift to offer. Old Mrs. Worrett, who, though fatter than ever, still retained the power of locomotion, drove in from Conic Section in her roomy carryall with the present of a rather obsolete copy of “Murray’s Guide,” in faded red covers, which her father had used in his youth, and which she was sure Katy would find convenient; also a bottle of Brown’s Jamaica Ginger, in case of sea-sickness. Debby’s sister-in-law brought a bundle of dried chamomile for the same purpose. Some one had told her it was the “handiest thing in the world to take along with you on them steamboats.” Cecy sent a wonderful old-gold and scarlet contrivance to hang on the wall of the stateroom. There were pockets for watches, and pockets for medicines, and pockets for handkerchief and hairpins,—in short, there were pockets for everything; besides a pincushion with “Bon Voyage” in rows of shining pins, a bottle of eau-de-cologne, a cake of soap, and a hammer and tacks to nail the whole up with. Mrs. Hall’s gift was a warm and very pretty woollen wrapper of dark blue flannel, with a pair of soft knitted slippers to match. Old Mr. Worrett sent a note of advice, recommending Katy to take a quinine pill every day that she was away, never to stay out late, because the dews “over there” were said to be unwholesome, and on no account to drink a drop of water which had not been boiled.
From Cousin Helen came a delightful travelling-bag, light and strong at once, and fitted up with all manner of nice little conveniences. Miss Inches sent a “History of Europe” in five fat volumes, which was so heavy that it had to be left at home. In fact, a good many of Katy’s presents had to be left at home, including a bronze paper-weight in the shape of a griffin, a large pair of brass screw candlesticks, and an ormolu inkstand with a pen-rest attached, which weighed at least a pound and a half. These Katy laid aside to enjoy after her return. Mrs. Ashe and Cousin Helen had both warned her of the inconvenient consequences of weight in baggage; and by their advice she had limited herself to a single trunk of moderate size, besides a little flat valise for use in her stateroom.
Clover’s gift was a set of blank books for notes, journals, etc. In one of these, Katy made out a list of “Things I must see,” “Things I must do,” “Things I would like to see,” “Things I would like to do.” Another she devoted to various good shopping addresses which had been given her; for though she did not expect to do any shopping herself, she thought Mrs. Ashe might find them useful. Katy’s ideas were still so simple and unworldly, and her experience of life so small, that it had not occurred to her how very tantalizing it might be to stand in front of shop windows full of delightful things and not be able to buy any of them. She was accordingly overpowered with surprise, gratitude, and the sense of sudden wealth, when about a week before the start her father gave her three little thin strips of paper, which he told her were circular notes, and worth a hundred dollars apiece. He also gave her five English sovereigns.
“Those are for immediate use,” he said. “Put the notes away carefully, and don’t lose them. You had better have them cashed one at a time as you require them. Mrs. Ashe will explain how. You will need a gown or so before you come back, and you’ll want to buy some photographs and so on, and there will be fees—”
“But, papa,” protested Katy, opening wide her candid eyes, “I didn’t expect you to give me any money, and I’m afraid you are giving me too much. Do you think you can afford it? Really and truly, I don’t want to buy things. I shall see everything, you know, and that’s enough.”
Her father only laughed.
“You’ll be wiser and greedier before the year is out, my dear,” he replied. “Three hundred dollars won’t go far, as you’ll find. But it’s all I can spare, and I trust you to keep within it, and not come home with any long bills for me to pay.”
“Papa! I should think not!” cried Katy, with unsophisticated horror.
One very interesting thing was to happen before they sailed, the thought of which helped both Katy and Clover through the last hard days, when the preparations were nearly complete, and the family had leisure to feel dull and out of spirits. Katy was to make Rose Red a visit.
Rose had by no means been idle during the three years and a half which had elapsed since they all parted at Hillsover, and during which the girls had not seen her. In fact, she had made more out of the time than any of the rest of them, for she had been engaged for eighteen months, had been married, and was now keeping house near Boston with a little Rose of her own, who, she wrote to Clover, was a perfect angel, and more delicious than words could say! Mrs. Ashe had taken passage in the “Spartacus,” sailing from Boston; and it was arranged that Katy should spend the last two days before sailing, with Rose, while Mrs. Ashe and Amy visited an old aunt in Hingham. To see Rose in her own home, and Rose’s husband, and Rose’s baby, was only next in interest to seeing Europe. None of the changes in her lot seemed to have changed her particularly, to judge by the letter she sent in reply to Katy’s announcing her plans, which letter ran as follows:—
“LONGWOOD, September 20.
“My dearest child,—Your note made me dance with delight. I stood on my head waving my heels wildly to the breeze till Deniston thought I must be taken suddenly mad; but when I explained he did the same. It is too enchanting, the whole of it. I put it at the head of all the nice things that ever happened, except my baby. Write the moment you get this by what train you expect to reach Boston, and when you roll into the station you will behold two forms, one tall and stalwart, the other short and fatsome, waiting for