The two girls had a cosy little luncheon with Mrs. Redding, after which Rose carried Katy off to see the house and everything in it which was in any way connected with her own personal historythe room where she used to sleep, the high-chair in which she sat as a baby and which was presently to be made over to little Rose, the sofa where Deniston offered himself, and the exact spot on the carpet on which she had stood while they were being married! Last of all
Now you shall see the best and dearest thing in the whole house, she said, opening the door of a room in the second story. Grandmamma, here is my friend Katy Carr, whom you have so often heard me tell about.
It was a large pleasant room, with a little wood-fire blazing in a grate, by which, in an armchair full of cushions, with a Solitaire-board on a little table beside her, sat a sweet old lady. This was Roses fathers mother. She was nearly eighty; but she was beautiful still, and her manner had a gracious old-fashioned courtesy which was full of charm. She had been thrown from a carriage the year before, and had never since been able to come downstairs or to mingle in the family life.
They come to me instead, she told Katy. There is no lack of pleasant company, she added; everyone is very good to me. I have a reader for two hours a day, and I read to myself a little, and play Patience and Solitaire, and never lack entertainment.
There was something restful in the sight of such a lovely specimen of old age. Katy realized, as she looked at her, what a loss it had been to her own life that she had never known either of her grandparents. She sat and gazed at old Mrs. Redding with a mixture of regret and fascination. She longed to hold her hand, and kiss her, and play with her beautiful silvery hair, as Rose did. Rose was evidently the old ladys peculiar darling. They were on the most intimate terms; and Rose dimpled and twinkled, and made saucy speeches, and told all her little adventures and the babys 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, theres nobody like her, rejoined Rose. I cant 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 Katys 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 Roses 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 isnt 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 niceno, 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 hextra 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 its the only good thing I ever knew about her.
What has become of Lilly Page? asked Ellen.
Shes in Europe with her mother. I dare say youll meet, Katy, and what a pleasure that will be! And have you heard about Bella? shes teaching school in the Indian Territory. Just fancy that scrap teaching school!
Isnt 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; thats 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 dont 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, Im 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 hasnt said no; so he hopes she will say yes.
Oh, shell 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. Shes 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 Katys 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!
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 Katys 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 Roses 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. Dont 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?
CHAPTER 4
On the Spartacus
The ulster and the felt hat soon came off again, for a head wind lay waiting in the offing, and the Spartacus began to pitch and toss in a manner which made all her unseasoned passengers glad to betake themselves to their berths. Mrs. Ashe and Amy were among the earliest victims of sea-sickness; and Katy, after helping them to settle in their staterooms, found herself too dizzy and ill to sit up a moment longer, and thankfully resorted to her own.
As the night came on, the wind grew stronger and the motion worse. The Spartacus had the reputation of being a dreadful roller, and seemed bound to justify it on this particular voyage. Down, down, down the great hull would slide till Katy would hold her breath with fear lest it might never right itself again; then slowly, slowly the turn would be made, and up, up, up it would go, till the cant on the other side was equally alarming. On the whole, Katy preferred to have her own side of the ship, the downward one; for it was less difficult to keep herself in the berth, from which she was in continual danger of being thrown. The night seemed endless, for she was too frightened to sleep except in broken snatches; and when day dawned, and she looked through the little round pane of glass in the port-hole, only gray sky and gray weltering waves and flying spray and rain met her view.
Oh, dear, why do people ever go to sea, unless they must? she thought feebly to herself. She wanted to get up and see how Mrs. Ashe had lived through the night, but the attempt to move made her so miserably ill that she was glad to sink again on her pillows.
The stewardess looked in with offers of tea and toast, the very idea of which was simply dreadful, and pronounced the other lady orridly ill, worse than you are, Miss, and the little girl takin on dreadful in the hupper berth. Of this fact Katy soon had audible proof; for as her dizzy senses rallied a little, she could hear Amy in the opposite stateroom crying and sobbing pitifully. She seemed to be angry as well as sick, for she was scolding her poor mother in the most vehement fashion.
I hate being at sea, Katy heard her say. I wont stay in this nasty old ship. Mamma! Mamma! do you hear me? I wont stay in this ship! It wasnt a bit kind of you to bring me to such a horrid place. It was very unkind; it was cru-el. I want to go back, Mamma. Tell the captain to take me back to the land. Mamma, why dont you speak to me? Oh, I am so sick and so very un-happy. Dont you wish you were dead? I do!
And then came another storm of sobs, but never a sound from Mrs. Ashe, who, Katy suspected, was too ill to speak. She felt very sorry for poor little Amy, raging there in her high berth like some imprisoned creature, but she was powerless to help her. She could only resign herself to her own discomforts, and try to believe that somehow, sometime, this state of things must mend; either they should all get to land or all go to the bottom and be drowned, and at that moment she didnt care very much which it turned out to be.
The gale increased as the day wore on, and the vessel pitched dreadfully. Twice Katy was thrown out of her berth on the floor; then the stewardess came and fixed a sort of movable side to the berth, which held her in, but made her feel like a child fastened into a railed crib. At intervals she could still hear Amy crying and scolding her mother, and conjectured that they were having a dreadful time of it in the other stateroom. It was all like a bad dream. And they call this travelling for pleasure! thought poor Katy.
One droll thing happened in the course of the second nightat least it seemed droll afterward; at the time Katy was too uncomfortable to enjoy it. Amid the rush of the wind, the creaking of the ships timbers, and the shrill buzz of the screw, she heard a sound of queer little footsteps in the entry outside of her open door, hopping and leaping together in an odd irregular way, like a regiment of mice or toy soldiers. Nearer and nearer they came; and Katy opening her eyes saw a procession of boots and shoes of all sizes and shapes, which had evidently been left on the floors or at the doors of various staterooms, and which in obedience to the lurchings of the vessel had collected in the cabin. They now seemed to be acting in concert with one another, and really looked alive as they bumped and trotted side by side, and two by two, in at the door and up close to her bedside. There they remained for several moments executing what looked like a dance; then the leading shoe turned on its heel as if giving a signal to the others, and they all hopped slowly again into the passage way and disappeared. It was exactly like one of Hans Christian Andersens fairy-tales, Katy wrote to Clover afterward. She heard them going down the cabin; but how it ended, or whether the owners of the boots and shoes ever got their own particular pairs again, she never knew.