KATY CARR - Complete Illustrated Series: What Katy Did, What Katy Did at School, What Katy Did Next, Clover, In the High Valley & Curly Locks. Susan CoolidgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
queer!” said Katy; “none of the rest of them did that.”
The truth was, that Clover, who was a canny little mortal, had slipped across the room and opened the door just before putting her wishes in. This, of course, made a draft, and sent the paper right upward.
Pretty soon Aunt Izzie came in and swept them all off to bed.
“I know how it will be in the morning,” she said, “you’ll all be up and racing about as soon as it is light. So you must get your sleep now, if ever.”
After they had gone, Katy recollected that nobody had offered to hang a stocking up for her. She felt a little hurt when she thought of it. “But I suppose they forgot,” she said to herself.
A little later Papa and Aunt Izzie came in, and they filled the stockings. It was great fun. Each was brought to Katy, as she lay in bed, that she might arrange it as she liked.
The toes were stuffed with candy and oranges. Then came the parcels, all shapes and sizes, tied in white paper, with ribbons, and labelled.
“What’s that?” asked Dr. Carr, as Aunt Izzie rammed a long, narrow package into Clover’s stocking.
“A nail-brush,” answered Aunt Izzie; “Clover needed a new one.”
How Papa and Katy laughed! “I don’t believe Santa Claus ever had such a thing before,” said Dr. Carr.
“He’s a very dirty old gentleman, then,” observed Aunt Izzie, grimly.
The desk and sled were too big to go into any stocking, so they were wrapped in paper and hung beneath the other things. It was ten o’clock before all was done, and Papa and Aunt Izzie went away. Katy lay a long time watching the queer shapes of the stocking-legs as they dangled in the firelight. Then she fell asleep.
It seemed only a minute, before something touched her and woke her up. Behold, it was day-time, and there was Philly in his night-gown, climbing up on the bed to kiss her! The rest of the children, half dressed, were dancing about with their stockings in their hands.
“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” they cried. “Oh, Katy, such beautiful, beau tiful things!”
“Oh!” shrieked Elsie, who at that moment spied her desk, “Santa Claus did bring it, after all! Why, it’s got ‘from Katy’ written on it! Oh, Katy, it’s so sweet, and I’m so happy.” and Elsie hugged Katy, and sobbed for pleasure.
But what was that strange thing beside the bed? Katy stared, and rubbed her eyes. It certainly had not been there when she went to sleep. How had it come?
It was a little evergreen tree planted in a red flower-pot. The pot had stripes of gilt paper stuck on it, and gilt stars and crosses, which made it look very gay. The boughs of the tree were hung with oranges, and nuts, and shiny red apples, and pop-corn balls, and strings of bright berries. There were also a number of little packages tied with blue and crimson ribbon, and altogether the tree looked so pretty, that Katy gave a cry of delighted surprise.
“It’s a Christmas-tree for you, because you’re sick, you know!” said the children, all trying to hug her at once.
“We made it ourselves,” said Dorry, hopping about on one foot; “I pasted the black stars on the pot.”
“And I popped the corn!” cried Philly.
“Do you like it?” asked Elsie, cuddling close to Katy. “That’s my present – that one tied with a green ribbon. I wish it was nicer! Don’t you want to open ‘em right away?”
Of course Katy wanted to. All sorts of things came out of the little bundles. The children had arranged every parcel themselves. No grown person had been allowed to help in the least.
Elsie’s present was a pen-wiper, with a gray flannel kitten on it. Johnnie’s, a doll’s tea-tray of scarlet tin.
“Isn’t it beau-ti-ful?” she said, admiringly.
Dorry’s gift, I regret to say, was a huge red-and-yellow spider, which whirred wildly when waved at the end of its string.
“They didn’t want me to buy it,” said he, “but I did! I thought it would amoose you. Does it amoose you, Katy?”
“Yes indeed,” said Katy, laughing and blinking as Dorry waved the spider to and fro before her eyes.
“You can play with it when we ain’t here and you’re all alone, you know,” remarked Dorry, highly gratified.
“But you don’t notice what the tree’s standing upon,” said Clover.
It was a chair, a very large and curious one, with a long-cushioned back, which ended in a footstool.
“That’s Papa’s present,” said Clover; “see, it tips back so as to be just like a bed. And Papa says he thinks pretty soon you can lie on it, in the window, where you can see us play.”
“Does he really?” said Katy doubtfully. It still hurt her very much to be touched or moved.
“And see what’s tied to the arm of the chair,” said Elsie.
It was a little silver bell, with “Katy” engraved on the handle.
“Cousin Helen sent it. It’s for you to ring when you want anybody to come,” explained Elsie.
More surprises. To the other arm of the chair was fastened a beautiful book. It was “The Wide Wide World” – and there was Katy’s name written on it, ‘from her affectionate Cecy.’ On it stood a great parcel of dried cherries from Mrs. Hall. Mrs. Hall had the most delicious dried cherries, the children thought.
“How perfectly lovely everybody is!” said Katy, with grateful tears in her eyes.
That was a pleasant Christmas. The children declared it to be the nicest they had ever had. And though Katy couldn’t quite say that, she enjoyed it too, and was very happy.
It was several weeks before she was able to use the chair, but when once she became accustomed to it, it proved very comfortable. Aunt Izzie would dress her in the morning, tip the chair back till it was on a level with the bed, and then, very gently and gradually, draw her over on to it. Wheeling across the room was always painful, but sitting in the window and looking out at the clouds, the people going by, and the children playing in the snow, was delightful. How delightful nobody knows, excepting those who, like Katy, have lain for six months in bed, without a peep at the outside world. Every day she grew brighter and more cheerful.
“How jolly Santa Claus was this year!” she happened to say one day, when she was talking with Cecy. “I wish another Saint would come and pay us a visit. But I don’t know any more, except Cousin Helen, and she can’t.”
“There’s St. Valentine,” suggested Cecy.
“Sure enough. What a bright thought!” cried Katy, clapping her hands. “Oh, Cecy, let’s do something funny on Valentine’s-Day! Such a good idea has just popped into my mind.”
So the two girls put their heads together and held a long, mysterious confabulation. What it was about, we shall see farther on.
Valentine’s-Day was the next Friday. When the children came home from school on Thursday afternoon, Aunt Izzie met them, and, to their great surprise, told them that Cecy was come to drink tea, and they must all go up stairs and be made nice.
“But Cecy comes most every day,” remarked Dorry, who didn’t see the connection between this fact and having his face washed.
“Yes – but to-night you are to take tea in Katy’s room,” said Aunt Izzie; “here are the invitations: one for each of you.”
Sure enough, there was a neat little note for each,