What Katy Did At School | Page 4

there was no time to say any
thing, 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 smelt
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, it fell again with a crash which shook
the floor and made the pitcher dance and rattle in the wash-bowl. 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 do 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.
"I'm afraid of tearing the paper. Dear, what a horrid thing it is!" Replied
Elsie in a disgusted tone.
However, she stuck in a couple of pins and fastened the shade out of
the way. After that, they looked about the room. It was plainly
furnished, but very nice and neat. The bureau was covered with a white
towel, on which stood a pincushion, with "Remember Ruth" stuck upon
it in pins. John admired this very much, and felt that she could never
make up her mind to spoil the pattern by taking out a pin, however
great her need of one might be.
"What a high bed!" she exclaimed. "Elsie, you'll have to climb on a
chair to get into it; and so shall I."
Elsie felt of it. "Feathers!" she cried a tone of horror. "O John! why did
we come? What shall we do?"
"I guess we shan't mind it much," replied John, who was perfectly well,
and considered these little variations on home habits rather as fun than
otherwise. But Elsie gave a groan. Two nights on a feather-bed! How

should she bear it!
Tea was ready in the kitchen when they went downstairs. A small fire
had been lighted to boil the water. It was almost out, but the room felt
stiflingly warm, and the butter was so nearly melted that Mrs. Worrett
had to help it with a tea-spoon. Buzzing flies hovered above the table,
and gathered thick on the plate of cake. The bread was excellent, and so
were the cottage cheeses and the stewed quinces; but Elsie could eat
nothing. She was in a fever of heat. Mrs. Worrett was distressed at this
want of appetite; and so was Mr. Worrett, to whom the children had
just been introduced. He was a kindly-looking old man, with a bald
head, who came to supper in his shirt-sleeves, and was a thin as his
wife was fat.
"I'm afraid the little girl