What katy did at school, p.1
What Katy Did at School,
p.1
PUFFIN CLASSICS
WHAT KATY DID AT SCHOOL
SUSAN COOLIDGE was the pen-name of SARAH CHAUNCY WOOLSEY (1835 –1905), an American writer from Ohio State. She was born into an eminent family, which had long and close connections with Yale University, one of the most prestigious universities in the USA. After the American Civil War, during which she served as a nurse, she turned to writing.
Her first book, A New Year's Bargain, was published in 1871. It so happened that Susan Coolidge's editor was also the editor of Louisa M. Alcott, who had recently become very famous for her books Little Women and Little Men. The editor suggested that Susan Coolidge try her hand at the same kind of story – and the rest is history. Five books about the irrepressible Katy Carr followed, tracing the fortunes and misfortunes of the Carr family from childhood, through school and travels in Europe, to marriage. The books are: What Katy Did (1872), What Katy Did at School (1873), What Katy Did Next (1886), Clover (1888) and In the High Valley (1891). The titles of the first three books are a pun on the North American grasshopper-like insect, the katydid, whose noise was not only responsible for its name, but inspired Susan Coolidge.
Like Louisa M. Alcott, the characters in Susan Coolidge's books are especially lifelike because there is no doubt that they are based on members of her own family. Susan herself was tall, quick-witted and impatient–like Katy; Katy's three sisters are Susan's three sisters, and Katy's two brothers are Susan Coolidge's brother and cousin.
Susan Coolidge never married, but devoted her life to her literary and social activities. Apart from her children's books she wrote verse and edited the correspondence of Jane Austen and Fanny Burney.
Some other Puffin Classics to enjoy
WHAT KATY DID
WHAT KATY DID NEXT
Susan Coolidge
EIGHT COUSINS
GOOD WIVES
Jo's Boys
LITTLE MEN
LITTLE WOMEN
ROSE IN BLOOM
Louisa M. Alcott
POLLYANNA
POLLYANNA GROWS UP
Eleanor H. Porter
SUSAN COOLIDGE
What Katy Did at School
PUFFIN BOOKS
PUFFIN BOOKS
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First published 1873
Published in Puffin Books 1985
Reissued in this edition 1994
20
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
ISBN: 978-0-14-193757-1
CONTENTS
1 Conic Section
2 A New Year and a New Plan
3 On the Way
4 The Nunnery
5 Roses and Thorns
6 The S.S.U.C.
7 Injustice
8 Changes
9 The Autumn Vacation
10 A Budget of Letters
11 Christmas Boxes
12 Waiting for Spring
13 Paradise Regained
1
CONIC SECTION
It was just after that happy visit mentioned at the end of ‘What Katy Did’, that Elsie and John made their famous excursion to Conic Section - an excursion which neither of them ever forgot, and about which the family teased them for a long time afterwards.
The summer had been cool; but, as often happens after cool summers, the autumn proved unusually hot. It seemed as if the months had been playing a game, and had ‘changed places’ all round; and as if September were determined to show that he knew how to make himself just as disagreeable as August, if only he chose to do so.
All the last half of Cousin Helen's stay the weather was excessively sultry. She felt it very much, though the children did all they could to make her comfortable, with shaded rooms, and iced water, and fans. Every evening the boys would wheel her sofa out on the porch, in hopes of coolness; but it was of no use: the evenings were as warm as the days, and the yellow dust hanging in the air made the sunshine look thick and hot. A few bright leaves appeared on the trees, but they were wrinkled, and of an ugly colour. Clover said she thought they had been boiled red like lobsters. Altogether, the month was a trying one, and the coming of October made little or no difference; still the dust continued, and the heat; and the wind, when it blew, had no refreshment in it, but seemed to have passed over some great furnace, which had burned out of it all life and flavour.
In spite of this, however, it was wonderful to see how Katy gained and improved. Every day added to her powers. First she came down to dinner, then to breakfast. She sat on the porch in the afternoons; she poured the tea. It was like a miracle to the others, in the beginning, to watch her going about the house; but they got used to it surprisingly soon – one does to pleasant things. One person, however, never got used to it, never took it as a matter of course; and that was Katy herself. She could not run downstairs, or out into the garden; she could not open the kitchen door to give an order, without a sense of gladness and exultation which was beyond words. The wider and more active life stimulated her in every way. Her cheeks grew round and pink, her eyes bright. Cousin Helen and papa watched this change with indescribable pleasure; and Mrs Worrett, who dropped in to lunch one day, fairly screamed with surprise at the sight of it.
‘To think of it!’ she cried, ‘why, the last time I was here you looked as if you had taken root in that chair of yours for the rest of your days, and here you are stepping around as lively as I be! Well, well! wonders will never cease. It does my eyes good to see you, Katherine. I wish your poor aunt were here today; that I do. How pleased she'd be!’
It is doubtful whether Aunt Izzie would have been so pleased, for the lived-in look of the best parlour would have horrified her extremely; but Katy did not recollect that just then. She was touched at the genuine kindness of Mrs Worrett's voice, and took very willingly her offered kiss. Clover brought lemonade and grapes, and they all devoted themselves to making the poor lady comfortable. Just before she went away, she said:
‘How is it that I can't never get any of you to come out to Conic Section? I'm sure I've asked you often enough. There's Elsie, now, and John; they're just the age to enjoy being in the country. Why won't you send ‘em out for a week? Johnnie can feed chickens, and chase ‘em too, if she likes,’ she added, as Johnnie dashed then into view, pursuing one of Phil's bantams round the house. ‘Tell her so, won't you, Katherine? There is lots of chickens on the farm. She can chase ‘em from morning to night, if she's a mind to.’
Katy thanked her, but she didn't think the children would care to go. She gave Johnnie the message, and then the whole matter passed out of her mind. She was surprised, a few days later, by having it brought up again by Elsie. The family were in low spirits that morning because of Cousin Helen's having just gone away; and Elsie was lying on the sofa, fanning herself with a great palm-leaf fan.
‘Oh, dear!’ she sighed. ‘Do you suppose it's ever going to be cool again in this world? It does seem as if I couldn't bear it any longer.’
‘Aren't you well, darling?’ inquired Katy, anxiously.
‘Oh, yes! well enough,’ replied Elsie. ‘It's only this horrid heat, and never going away to where it's cooler. I keep thinking about the country, and wishing I was there feeling the wind blow. I wonder if papa wouldn't let John and me go to Conic Section and see Mrs Worrett. Do you think he would 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 quite near woods; Mrs Worrett told me so. Besides, it's always cooler on a farm. There's more room for the wind, and – oh, everything'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.
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‘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 tomorrow 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 about 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 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 cornstalks 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 very badly,’ 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-coloured 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 colour of the paint, and the wide-awake look of the blindless windows, the house had somehow the air of standing on tiptoe and staring hard at something – the dust in the road, perhaps, for there seemed nothing else to stare at.
Elsie's heart sank indescribably, as she and John got very slowly out of the vehicle, 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 all 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 here away 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 anything, 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 with hot weather, and company in the house, and all – there's a chicken, Johnnie,’ she exclaimed, suddenly interrupting herself, as a long-legged hen ran past the door. ‘Want to chase it right away? You can if you like. Or would you rather go upstairs first?’
‘Upstairs, please,’ replied John, while Elsie went to the door, and watched Alexander driving away down the dusty road. She felt as if their last friend had deserted them. Then she and Johnnie followed Isaphiny upstairs. Mrs Worrett never ‘mounted' in hot weather, she told them.
The spare chamber was just under the roof. It was very hot, and smelled as if the windows had never been opened since the house was built. As soon as they were alone, Elsie ran across the room and threw up the sash; but the moment she let go down it fell again, with a crash that shook the floor and made the pitcher dance and rattle in the washbowl. The children were dreadfully frightened, especially when they heard Mrs Worrett at the foot of the stairs calling to ask what was the matter.
‘It's only the window,’ explained Elsie, going into the hall. ‘I'm so sorry, but it won't stay open. Something's the matter with it.’
‘Did you stick the nail in?’ inquired Mrs Worrett.
‘The nail? No, ma'am.’
‘Why, how on earth did you expect it to stay up, then? You young folks never see what's before your eyes. Look on the window-sill, and you'll find it. It's put there a-purpose.’
Elsie returned, much discomfited. She looked, and, sure enough, there was a big nail, and there was a hole in the side of the window-frame in which to stick it. This time she got the window open without accident; but a long blue paper shade caused her much embarrassment. It hung down, and kept the air from coming in. She saw no way of fastening it.
‘Roll it up and put in a pin,’ suggested John.
