<SPAN name="chap12"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER XII </h3>
<h4>
TWO YEARS AFTERWARD
</h4>
<p>It was a pleasant morning in early June. A warm wind was rustling the
trees, which were covered thickly with half-opened leaves, and looked
like fountains of green spray thrown high into the air. Dr. Carr's front
door stood wide open. Through the parlor window came the sound of piano
practice, and on the steps, under the budding roses, sat a small figure,
busily sewing.</p>
<p>This was Clover, little Clover still, though more than two years had
passed since we saw her last, and she was now over fourteen. Clover was
never intended to be tall. Her eyes were as blue and sweet as ever, and
her apple-blossom cheeks as pink. But the brown pig-tails were pinned up
into a round knot, and the childish face had gained almost a womanly
look. Old Mary declared that Miss Clover was getting quite
young-ladyfied, and "Miss Clover" was quite aware of the fact, and
mightily pleased with it. It delighted her to turn up her hair; and she
was very particular about having her dresses made to come below the tops
of her boots. She had also left off ruffles, and wore narrow collars
instead, and little cuffs with sleeve-buttons to fasten them. These
sleeve-buttons, which were a present from Cousin Helen, Clover liked
best of all her things. Papa said that he was sure she took them to bed
with her, but of course that was only a joke, though she certainly was
never seen without them in the daytime. She glanced frequently at these
beloved buttons as she sat sewing, and every now and then laid down her
work to twist them into a better position, or give them an affectionate
pat with her forefinger.</p>
<p>Pretty soon the side-gate swung open, and Philly came round the corner
of the house. He had grown into a big boy. All his pretty baby curls
were cut off, and his frocks had given place to jacket and trousers. In
his hand he held something. What, Clover could not see.</p>
<p>"What's that?" she said, as he reached the steps.</p>
<p>"I'm going up stairs to ask Katy if these are ripe," replied Phil,
exhibiting some currants faintly streaked with red.</p>
<p>"Why, of course they're not ripe!" said Clover, putting one into her
mouth. "Can't you tell by the taste? They're as green as can be."</p>
<p>"I don't care, if Katy says they're ripe I shall eat 'em," answered
Phil, defiantly, marching into the house.</p>
<p>"What did Philly want?" asked Elsie, opening the parlor door as Phil
went up stairs.</p>
<p>"Only to know if the currants are ripe enough to eat."</p>
<p>"How particular he always is about asking now!" said Elsie; "he's afraid
of another dose of salts."</p>
<p>"I should think he would be," replied Clover, laughing. "Johnnie says
she never was so scared in her life as when Papa called them, and they
looked up, and saw him standing there with the bottle in one hand and a
spoon in the other!"</p>
<p>"Yes," went on Elsie, "and you know Dorry held his in his mouth for ever
so long, and then went round the corner of the house and spat it out!
Papa said he had a good mind to make him take another spoonful, but he
remembered that after all Dorry had the bad taste a great deal longer
than the others, so he didn't. I think it was an <i>awful</i> punishment,
don't you?"</p>
<p>"Yes, but it was a good one, for none of them have ever touched the
green gooseberries since. Have you got through practising? It doesn't
seem like an hour yet."</p>
<p>"Oh, it isn't—it's only twenty-five minutes. But Katy told me not to
sit more than half an hour at a time without getting up and running
round to rest. I'm going to walk twice down to the gate, and twice back.
I promised her I would." And Elsie set off, clapping her hands briskly
before and behind her as she walked.</p>
<p>"Why—what is Bridget doing in Papa's room?" she asked, as she came back
the second time. "She's flapping things out of the window. Are the girls
up there? I thought they were cleaning the dining-room."</p>
<p>"They're doing both. Katy said it was such a good chance, having Papa
away, that she would have both the carpets taken up at once. There isn't
going to be any dinner today, only just bread and butter, and milk, and
cold ham, up in Katy's room, because Debby is helping too, so as to get
through and save Papa all the fuss. And see," exhibiting her sewing,
"Katy's making a new cover for Papa's pincushion, and I'm hemming the
ruffle to go round it."</p>
<p>"How nicely you hem!" said Elsie. "I wish I had something for Papa's
room too. There's my washstand mats—but the one for the soap-dish isn't
finished. Do you suppose, if Katy would excuse me from the rest of my
practising, I could get it done? I've a great mind to go and ask her."</p>
<p>"There's her bell!" said Clover, as a little tinkle sounded up stairs;
"I'll ask her, if you like."</p>
<p>"No, let me go. I'll see what she wants." But Clover was already
half-way across the hall, and the two girls ran up side by side. There
was often a little strife between them as to which should answer Katy's
bell. Both liked to wait on her so much.</p>
<p>Katy came to meet them as they entered. Not on her feet: that, alas! was
still only a far-off possibility; but in a chair with large wheels, with
which she was rolling herself across the room. This chair was a great
comfort to her. Sitting in it, she could get to her closet and her
bureau-drawers, and help herself to what she wanted without troubling
anybody. It was only lately that she had been able to use it. Dr. Carr
considered her doing so as a hopeful sign, but he had never told Katy
this. She had grown accustomed to her invalid life at last, and was
cheerful in it, and he thought it unwise to make her restless, by
exciting hopes which might after all end in fresh disappointment.</p>
<p>She met the girls with a bright smile as they came in, and said:</p>
<p>"Oh, Clovy, it was you I rang for! I am troubled for fear Bridget will
meddle with the things on Papa's table. You know he likes them to be
left just so. Will you please go and remind her that she is not to
touch them at all? After the carpet is put down, I want you to dust the
table, so as to be sure that everything is put back in the same place.
Will you?"</p>
<p>"Of course I will!" said Clover, who was a born housewife, and dearly
loved to act as Katy's prime minister.</p>
<p>"Sha'n't I fetch you the pincushion too, while I'm there?"</p>
<p>"Oh yes, please do! I want to measure."</p>
<p>"Katy," said Elsie, "those mats of mine are most done, and I would like
to finish them and put them on Papa's washstand before he comes back.
Mayn't I stop practising now, and bring my crochet up here instead?"</p>
<p>"Will there be plenty of time to learn the new exercise before Miss
Phillips comes, if you do?"</p>
<p>"I think so, plenty. She doesn't come till Friday, you know."</p>
<p>"Well, then it seems to me that you might just as well as not. And
Elsie, dear, run into papa's room first, and bring me the drawer out of
his table. I want to put that in order myself."</p>
<p>Elsie went cheerfully. She laid the drawer across Katy's lap, and Katy
began to dust and arrange the contents. Pretty soon Clover joined them.</p>
<p>"Here's the cushion," she said. "Now we'll have a nice quiet time all by
ourselves, won't we? I like this sort of day, when nobody comes in to
interrupt us."</p>
<p>Somebody tapped at the door, as she spoke. Katy called out, "Come!" And
in marched a tall, broad-shouldered lad, with a solemn, sensible face,
and a little clock carried carefully in both his hands. This was Dorry.
He has grown and improved very much since we saw him last, and is
turning out clever in several ways. Among the rest, he has developed a
strong turn for mechanics.</p>
<p>"Here's your clock, Katy," he said. "I've got it fixed so that it
strikes all right. Only you must be careful not to hit the striker when
you start the pendulum."</p>
<p>"Have you, really?" said Katy. "Why, Dorry, you're a genius! I'm ever so
much obliged."</p>
<p>"It's four minutes to eleven now," went on Dorry. "So it'll strike
pretty soon. I guess I'd better stay and hear it, so as to be sure that
it is right. That is," he added politely, "unless you're busy, and would
rather not."</p>
<p>"I'm never too busy to want you, old fellow," said Katy, stroking his
arm. "Here, this drawer is arranged now. Don't you want to carry it
into Papa's room and put it back into the table? Your hands are
stronger than Elsie's."</p>
<p>Dorry looked gratified. When he came back the clock was just beginning
to strike.</p>
<p>"There!" he exclaimed; "that's splendid, isn't it?"</p>
<p>But alas! the clock did not stop at eleven. It went on—Twelve,
Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen!</p>
<p>"Dear me!" said Clover, "what does all this mean? It must be day after
to-morrow, at least."</p>
<p>Dorry stared with open mouth at the clock, which was still striking
as though it would split its sides. Elsie, screaming with laughter,
kept count.</p>
<p>"Thirty, Thirty-one—Oh, Dorry! Thirty-two! Thirty-three! Thirty-four!"</p>
<p>"You've bewitched it, Dorry!" said Katy, as much entertained as the
rest.</p>
<p>Then they all began counting. Dorry seized the clock—shook it, slapped
it, turned it upside-down. But still the sharp, vibrating sounds
continued, as if the clock, having got its own way for once, meant to go
on till it was tired out. At last, at the one-hundred-and-thirtieth
stroke, it suddenly ceased; and Dorry, with a red, amazed countenance,
faced the laughing company.</p>
<p>"It's very queer," he said, "but I'm sure it's not because of anything I
did. I can fix it, though, if you'll let me try again. May I, Katy? I'll
promise not to hurt it."</p>
<p>For a moment Katy hesitated. Clover pulled her sleeve, and
whispered, "Don't!" Then seeing the mortification on Dorry's face,
she made up her mind.</p>
<p>"Yes! take it, Dorry. I'm sure you'll be careful. But if I were you, I'd
carry it down to Wetherell's first of all, and talk it over with them.
Together you could hit on just the right thing. Don't you think so?"</p>
<p>"Perhaps," said Dorry; "yes, I think I will." Then he departed with the
clock under his arm, while Clover called after him teasingly, "Lunch at
132 o'clock; don't forget!"</p>
<p>"No, I won't!" said Dorry. Two years before he would not have borne to
be laughed at so good-naturedly.</p>
<p>"How could you let him take your clock again?" said Clover, as soon as
the door was shut. "He'll spoil it. And you think so much of it."</p>
<p>"I thought he would feel mortified if I didn't let him try," replied
Katy, quietly, "I don't believe he'll hurt it. Wetherell's man likes
Dorry, and he'll show him what to do."</p>
<p>"You were real good to do it," responded Clover; "but if it had been
mine I don't think I could."</p>
<p>Just then the door flew open, and Johnnie rushed in, two years taller,
but otherwise looking exactly as she used to do.</p>
<p>"Oh, Katy!" she gasped, "won't you please tell Philly not to wash the
chickens in the rain-water tub? He's put in every one of Speckle's, and
is just beginning on Dame Durden's. I'm afraid one little yellow one is
dead already—"</p>
<p>"Why, he mustn't—of course he mustn't!" said Katy; "what made him think
of such a thing?"</p>
<p>"He says they're dirty, because they've just come out of egg-shells! And
he insists that the yellow on them is yolk-of-egg. I told him it wasn't,
but he wouldn't listen to me." And Johnnie wrung her hands.</p>
<p>"Clover!" cried Katy, "won't you run down and ask Philly to come up to
me? Speak pleasantly, you know!"</p>
<p>"I spoke pleasantly—real pleasantly, but it wasn't any use," said
Johnnie, on whom the wrongs of the chicks had evidently made a deep
impression.</p>
<p>"What a mischief Phil is getting to be!" said Elsie. "Papa says his name
ought to be Pickle."</p>
<p>"Pickles turn out very nice sometimes, you know," replied Katy,
laughing.</p>
<p>Pretty soon Philly came up, escorted by Clover. He looked a little
defiant, but Katy understood how to manage him. She lifted him into her
lap, which, big boy as he was, he liked extremely; and talked to him so
affectionately about the poor little shivering chicks, that his heart
was quite melted.</p>
<p>"I didn't mean to hurt 'em, really and truly," he said, "but they were
all dirty and yellow—with egg, you know, and I thought you'd like me to
clean 'em up."</p>
<p>"But that wasn't egg, Philly—it was dear little clean feathers, like a
canary-bird's wings."</p>
<p>"Was it?"</p>
<p>"Yes. And now the chickies are as cold and forlorn as you would feel if
you tumbled into a pond and nobody gave you any dry clothes. Don't you
think you ought to go and warm them?"</p>
<p>"How?"</p>
<p>"Well—in your hands, very gently. And then I would let them run round
in the sun."</p>
<p>"I will!" said Philly, getting down from her lap. "Only kiss me first,
because I didn't mean to, you know!"—Philly was very fond of Katy. Miss
Petingill said it was wonderful to see how that child let himself be
managed. But I think the secret was that Katy didn't "manage," but tried
to be always kind and loving, and considerate of Phil's feelings.</p>
<p>Before the echo of Phil's boots had fairly died away on the stairs,
old Mary put her head into the door. There was a distressed expression
on her face.</p>
<p>"Miss Katy," she said, "I wish <i>you'd</i> speak to Alexander about putting
the woodshed in order. I don't think you know how bad it looks."</p>
<p>"I don't suppose I do," said Katy, smiling, and then sighing. She had
never seen the wood-shed since the day of her fall from the swing.
"Never mind, Mary, I'll talk to Alexander about it, and he shall make it
all nice."</p>
<p>Mary trotted down stairs satisfied. But in the course of a few minutes
she was up again.</p>
<p>"There's a man come with a box of soap, Miss Katy, and here's the bill.
He says it's resated."</p>
<p>It took Katy a little time to find her purse, and then she wanted
her pencil and account book, and Elsie had to move from her seat at
the table.</p>
<p>"Oh dear!" she said, "I wish people wouldn't keep coming and
interrupting us. Who'll be the next, I wonder?"</p>
<p>She was not left to wonder long. Almost as she spoke, there was another
knock at the door.</p>
<p>"Come in!" said Katy, rather wearily. The door opened.</p>
<p>"Shall I?" said a voice. There was a rustle of skirts, a clatter of
boot-heels, and Imogen Clark swept into the room. Katy could not think
who it was, at first. She had not seen Imogen for almost two years.</p>
<p>"I found the front door open," explained Imogen, in her high-pitched
voice, "and as nobody seemed to hear when I rang the bell, I ventured to
come right up stairs. I hope I'm not interrupting anything private?"</p>
<p>"Not at all," said Katy, politely. "Elsie, dear, move up that low chair,
please. Do sit down, Imogen! I'm sorry nobody answered your ring, but
the servants are cleaning house to-day, and I suppose they didn't hear."</p>
<p>So Imogen sat down and began to rattle on in her usual manner, while
Elsie, from behind Katy's chair, took a wide-awake survey of her dress.
It was of cheap material, but very gorgeously made and trimmed, with
flounces and puffs, and Imogen wore a jet necklace and long black
ear-rings, which jingled and clicked when she waved her head about. She
still had the little round curls stuck on to her cheeks, and Elsie
wondered anew what kept them in their places.</p>
<p>By and by the object of Imogen's visit came out. She had called to say
good-by. The Clark family were all going back to Jacksonville to live.</p>
<p>"Did you ever see the Brigand again?" asked Clover, who had never
forgotten that eventful tale told in the parlor.</p>
<p>"Yes," replied Imogen, "several times. And I get letters from him quite
often. He writes <i>beau</i>tiful letters. I wish I had one with me, so that
I could read you a little bit. You would enjoy it, I know. Let me
see—perhaps I have." And she put her hand into her pocket. Sure enough
there <i>was</i> a letter. Clover couldn't help suspecting that Imogen knew
it all the time.</p>
<p>The Brigand seemed to write a bold, black hand, and his note-paper and
envelope was just like anybody else's. But perhaps his band had
surprised a pedlar with a box of stationery.</p>
<p>"Let me see," said Imogen, running her eye down the page. "'Adored
Imogen'—that wouldn't interest you—hm, hm, hm—ah, here's something!
'I took dinner at the Rock House on Christmas. It was lonesome without
you. I had roast turkey, roast goose, roast beef, mince pie, plum
pudding, and nuts and raisins. A pretty good dinner, was it not? But
nothing tastes first-rate when friends are away.'"</p>
<p>Katy and Clover stared, as well they might. Such language from a
Brigand!</p>
<p>"John Billings has bought a new horse," continued Imogen; "hm, hm,
hm—him. I don't think there is anything else you'd care about. Oh, yes!
just here, at the end, is some poetry:</p>
<p>"'Come, little dove, with azure wing,<br/>
And brood upon my breast,'<br/></p>
<p>"That's sweet, ain't it?"</p>
<p>"Hasn't he reformed?" said Clover; "he writes as if he had."</p>
<p>"Reformed!" cried Imogen, with a toss of the jingling ear-rings. "He was
always just as good as he could be!"</p>
<p>There was nothing to be said in reply to this. Katy felt her lips
twitch, and for fear she should be rude, and laugh out, she began to
talk as fast as she could about something else. All the time she found
herself taking measure of Imogen, and thinking—"Did I ever really like
her? How queer! Oh, what a wise man Papa is!"</p>
<p>Imogen stayed half an hour. Then she took her leave.</p>
<p>"She never asked how you were!" cried Elsie, indignantly; "I noticed,
and she didn't—not once."</p>
<p>"Oh well—I suppose she forgot. We were talking about her, not about
me," replied Katy.</p>
<p>The little group settled down again to their work. This time half an
hour went by without any more interruptions. Then the door bell rang,
and Bridget, with a disturbed face, came up stairs.</p>
<p>"Miss Katy," she said, "it's old Mrs. Worrett, and I reckon's she's
come to spend the day, for she's brought her bag. What ever shall I
tell her?"</p>
<p>Katy looked dismayed. "Oh dear!" she said, "how unlucky. What can we
do?"</p>
<p>Mrs. Worrett was an old friend of Aunt Izzie's, who lived in the
country, about six miles from Burnet, and was in the habit of coming to
Dr. Carr's for lunch, on days when shopping or other business brought
her into town. This did not occur often; and, as it happened, Katy had
never had to entertain her before.</p>
<p>"Tell her ye're busy, and can't see her," suggested Bridget; "there's no
dinner nor nothing, you know."</p>
<p>The Katy of two years ago would probably have jumped at this idea. But
the Katy of to-day was more considerate.</p>
<p>"N-o," she said; "I don't like to do that. We must just make the best of
it, Bridget. Run down, Clover, dear, that's a good girl! and tell Mrs.
Worrett that the dining-room is all in confusion, but that we're going
to have lunch here, and, after she's rested, I should be glad to have
her come up. And, oh, Clovy! give her a fan the first thing. She'll be
<i>so</i> hot. Bridget, you can bring up the luncheon just the same, only
take out some canned peaches, by way of a dessert, and make Mrs. Worrett
a cup of tea. She drinks tea always, I believe.</p>
<p>"I can't bear to send the poor old lady away when she has come so far,"
she explained to Elsie, after the others were gone. "Pull the
rocking-chair a little this way, Elsie. And oh! push all those little
chairs back against the wall. Mrs. Worrett broke down in one the last
time she was here—don't you recollect?"</p>
<p>It took some time to cool Mrs. Worrett off, so nearly twenty minutes
passed before a heavy, creaking step on the stairs announced that the
guest was on her way up. Elsie began to giggle. Mrs. Worrett always made
her giggle. Katy had just time to give her a warning glance before the
door opened.</p>
<p>Mrs. Worrett was the most enormously fat person ever seen. Nobody dared
to guess how much she weighed, but she looked as if it might be a
thousand pounds. Her face was extremely red. In the coldest weather she
appeared hot, and on a mild day she seemed absolutely ready to melt. Her
bonnet-strings were flying loose as she came in, and she fanned herself
all the way across the room, which shook as she walked.</p>
<p>"Well, my dear," she said, as she plumped herself into the
rocking-chair, "and how do you do?"</p>
<p>"Very well, thank you," replied Katy, thinking that she never saw Mrs.
Worrett look half so fat before, and wondering how she <i>was</i> to
entertain her.</p>
<p>"And how's your Pa?" inquired Mrs. Worrett. Katy answered politely, and
then asked after Mrs. Worrett's own health.</p>
<p>"Well, I'm so's to be round," was the reply, which had the effect of
sending Elsie off into a fit of convulsive laughter behind Katy's chair.</p>
<p>"I had business at the bank," continued the visitor, "and I thought
while I was about it I'd step up to Miss Petingill's and see if I
couldn't get her to come and let out my black silk. It was made quite a
piece back, and I seem to have fleshed up since then, for I can't make
the hooks and eyes meet at all. But when I got there, she was out, so
I'd my walk for nothing. Do you know where she's sewing now?"</p>
<p>"No," said Katy, feeling her chair shake, and keeping her own
countenance with difficulty, "she was here for three days last week to
make Johnnie a school-dress. But I haven't heard anything about her
since. Elsie, don't you want to run down stairs and ask Bridget to
bring a—a—a glass of iced water for Mrs. Worrett? She looks warm
after her walk."</p>
<p>Elsie, dreadfully ashamed, made a bolt from the room, and hid herself in
the hall closet to have her laugh out. She came back after a while, with
a perfectly straight face. Luncheon was brought up. Mrs. Worrett made a
good meal, and seemed to enjoy everything. She was so comfortable that
she never stirred till four o'clock! Oh, how long that afternoon did
seem to the poor girls, sitting there and trying to think of something
to say to their vast visitor!</p>
<p>At last Mrs. Worrett got out of her chair, and prepared to depart.</p>
<p>"Well," she said, tying her bonnet-strings, "I've had a good rest, and
feel all the better for it. Ain't some of you young folks coming out to
see me one of these days? I'd like to have you, first-rate, if you will.
'Tain't every girl would know how to take care of a fat old woman, and
make her feel to home, as you have me, Katy. I wish your aunt could see
you all as you are now. She'd be right pleased; I know that."</p>
<p>Somehow, this sentence rang pleasantly in Katy's ears.</p>
<p>"Ah! don't laugh at her," she said later in the evening, when the
children, after their tea in the clean, fresh-smelling dining-room, were
come up to sit with her, and Cecy, in her pretty pink lawn and white
shawl, had dropped in to spend an hour or two; "she's a real kind old
woman, and I don't like to have you. It isn't her fault that she's fat.
And Aunt Izzie was fond of her, you know. It is doing something for her
when we can show a little attention to one of her friends. I was sorry
when she came, but now it's over, I'm glad."</p>
<p>"It feels so nice when it stops aching," quoted Elsie, mischievously,
while Cecy whispered to Clover.</p>
<p>"Isn't Katy sweet?"</p>
<p>"Isn't she!" replied Clover. "I wish I was half so good. Sometimes I
think I shall really be sorry if she ever gets well. She's such a dear
old darling to us all, sitting there in her chair, that it wouldn't seem
so nice to have her anywhere else. But then, I know it's horrid in me.
And I don't believe she'd be different, or grow slam-bang and horrid,
like some of the girls, even if she were well."</p>
<p>"Of course she wouldn't!" replied Cecy.</p>
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