The Collected Works of Susan Coolidge: 7 Novels, 35+ Short Stories, Essays & Poems (Illustrated). Susan CoolidgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
“In your back, eh? Was the pain high up or low down?” and the doctor punched Katy’s spine for some minutes, making her squirm uneasily.
“I’m afraid she’s done some mischief,” he said, at last, “but it’s impossible to tell yet exactly what. It may only be a twist, or a slight sprain,” he added, seeing the look of terror on Katy’s face. “You’d better get her up stairs and undress her as soon as you can, Miss Carr. I’ll leave a prescription to rub her with.” And Dr. Alsop took out a bit of paper and began to write.
“Oh, must I go to bed?” said Katy. “How long will I have to stay there, doctor?”
“That depends on how fast you get well,” replied the doctor; “not long, I hope. Perhaps only a few days.”
“A few days!” repeated Katy in a despairing tone.
After the doctor was gone, Aunt Izzie and Debby lifted Katy and carried her slowly up stairs. It was not easy, for every motion hurt her, and the sense of being helpless hurt most of all. She couldn’t help crying after she was undressed and put into bed. It all seemed so dreadful and strange. If only Papa was here, she thought. But Dr. Carr had gone into the country to see somebody who was very sick, and couldn’t possibly be back till to-morrow.
Such a long, long afternoon as that was! Aunt Izzie sent up some dinner, but Katy couldn’t eat. Her lips were parched and her head ached violently. The sun began to pour in, the room grew warm. Flies buzzed in the window, and tormented her by lighting on her face. Little prickles of pain ran up and down her back. She lay with her eyes shut, because it hurt to keep them open, and all sorts of uneasy thoughts went rushing through her mind.
“Perhaps, if my back is really sprained, I shall have to lie here as much as a week,” she said to herself. “Oh, dear, dear! I can’t. The vacation is only eight weeks, and I was going to do such lovely things! How can people be so patient as Cousin Helen when they have to lie still? Won’t she be sorry when she hears! Was it really yesterday that she went away? It seems a year. If only I hadn’t got into that nasty old swing!” And then Katy began to imagine how it would have been if she hadn’t, and how she and Clover had meant to go to Paradise that afternoon. They might have been there under the cool trees now. As these thoughts ran through her mind, her head grew hotter and her position in the bed more uncomfortable.
Suddenly she became conscious that the glaring light from the window was shaded, and that the wind seemed to be blowing freshly over her. She opened her heavy eyes. The blinds were shut, and there beside the bed sat little Elsie, fanning her with a palm-leaf fan.
“Did I wake you up, Katy?” she asked in a timid voice.
Katy looked at her with startled, amazed eyes.
“Don’t be frightened,” said Elsie, “I won’t disturb you. Johnny and me are so sorry you’re sick,” and her little lips trembled. “But we mean to keep real quiet, and never bang the nursery door, or make noises on the stairs, till you’re all well again. And I’ve brought you something real nice. Some of it’s from John, and some from me. It’s because you got tumbled out of the swing. See – ” and Elsie pointed triumphantly to a chair, which she had pulled up close to the bed, and on which were solemnly set forth: 1st. A pewter tea-set; 2d. A box with a glass lid, on which flowers were painted; 3d. A jointed doll; 4th. A transparent slate; and lastly, two new lead pencils!
“They’re all yours – yours to keep,” said generous little Elsie. “You can have Pikery, too, if you want. Only he’s pretty big, and I’m afraid he’d be lonely without me. Don’t you like the fings, Katy? They’re real pretty!”
It seemed to Katy as if the hottest sort of a coal of fire was burning into the top of her head as she looked at the treasures on the chair, and then at Elsie’s face all lighted up with affectionate self-sacrifice. She tried to speak, but began to cry instead, which frightened Elsie very much.
“Does it hurt you so bad?” she asked, crying, too, from sympathy.
“Oh, no! it isn’t that,” sobbed Katy, “but I was so cross to you this morning, Elsie, and pushed you. Oh, please forgive me, please do!”
“Why it’s got well!” said Elsie, surprised. “Aunt Izzie put a fing out of a bottle on it, and the bump all went away. Shall I go and ask her to put some on you too – I will.” And she ran towards the door.
“Oh, no!” cried Katy, “don’t go away, Elsie. Come here and kiss me, instead.”
Elsie turned, as if doubtful whether this invitation could be meant for her. Katy held out her arms. Elsie ran right into them, and the big sister and the little, exchanged an embrace which seemed to bring their hearts closer together than they had ever been before.
“You’re the most precious little darling,” murmured Katy, clasping Elsie tight. “I’ve been real horrid to you, Elsie. But I’ll never be again. You shall play with me and Clover, and Cecy, just as much as you like, and write notes in all the post-offices, and everything else.”
“Oh, goody, goody!” cried Elsie, executing little skips of transport. “How sweet you are, Katy! I mean to love you next best to Cousin Helen and Papa! And” – racking her brains for some way of repaying this wonderful kindness – “I’ll tell you the secret, if you want me to very much. I guess Cousin Helen would let me.”
“No,” said Katy; “never mind about the secret. I don’t want you to tell it to me. Sit down by the bed, and fan me some more instead.”
“No!” persisted Elsie, who, now that she had made up her mind to part with the treasured secret, could not bear to be stopped. “Cousin Helen gave me a half-dollar, and told me to give it to Debby, and tell her she was much obliged to her for making such nice things to eat. And I did. And Debby was real pleased. And I wrote Cousin Helen a letter, and told her that Debby liked the half-dollar. That’s the secret! Isn’t it a nice one? Only you mustn’t tell anybody about it, ever – just as long as you live.”
“No!” said Katy, smiling faintly, “I won’t.”
All the rest of the afternoon Elsie sat beside the bed with her palm-leaf fan, keeping off the flies and “shue”-ing away the other children when they peeped in at the door. “Do you really like to have me here?” she asked, more than once, and smiled, oh, so triumphantly, when Katy said “Yes!” But though Katy said yes, I am afraid it was only half the truth, for the sight of the dear little forgiving girl, whom she had treated unkindly, gave her more pain than pleasure.
“I’ll be so good to her when I get well,” she thought to herself, tossing uneasily to and fro.
Aunt Izzie slept in her room that night. Katy was feverish. When morning came, and Dr. Carr returned, he found her in a good deal of pain, hot and restless, with wide-open, anxious eyes.
“Papa!” she cried the first thing, “must I lie here as much as a week?”
“My darling, I’m afraid you must,” replied her father, who looked worried, and very grave.
“Dear, dear!” sobbed Katy, “how can I bear it?”
Chapter IX.
Dismal Days
If anybody had told Katy, that first afternoon, that at the end of a week she would still be in bed, and in pain, and with no time fixed for getting up, I think it would have almost killed her. She was so restless and eager, that to lie still seemed one of the hardest things in the world. But to lie still and have her back ache all the time, was worse yet. Day after day she asked Papa with quivering lip: “Mayn’t I get up and go down stairs this morning?” And when he shook his head, the lip would quiver more, and tears would come. But if she tried to get up, it hurt her so much, that in spite of herself she was glad