What Katy Did At School | Page 5

don't like her supper, Lucinda," he said. "You
must see about getting her something different for to-morrow."
"Oh! it isn't that. Every thing is very nice, only, I'm not hungry,"
pleaded Elsie, feeling as if she should like to cry. She did cry a little
after tea, as they sat in the dusk; Mr. Worrett smoking his pipe and
slapping mosquitoes outside the door, and Mrs. Worrett sleeping rather
noisily in a big rocking-chair. But not even Johnnie found out that she
was crying; for Elsie felt that she was the naughtiest child in the world
to behave so badly when everybody was so kind to her. She repeated
this to herself many times, but it didn't do much good. As often as the
thought of home and Katy and papa came, a wild longing to get back to
them would rush over her, and her eyes would fill again with sudden
tears.
The night was very uncomfortable. Not a breath of wind was stirring,
or none found its way to the stifling bed where the little sisters lay.
John slept pretty well, in spite of heat and mosquitoes, but Elsie hardly
closed her eyes. Once she got up and went to the window, but the blue
paper shade had become unfastened, and rattled down upon her head
with a sudden bump, which startled her very much. She could find no
pins in the dark, so she left it hanging; whereupon it rustled and flapped
through the rest of the night, and did its share toward keeping her
awake. About three o'clock she fell into a doze; and it seemed only a

minute after that before she waked up to find bright sunshine in the
room, and half a dozen roosters crowing and calling under the windows.
Her head ached violently. She longed to stay in bed, but was afraid it
would be thought impolite, so she dressed and went down with Johnnie;
but she looked so pale and ate so little breakfast that Mrs. Worrett was
quite troubled, and said she had better not try to go out, but just lie on
the lounge in the best room, and amuse herself with a book.
The lounge in the best room was covered with slippery purple chintz. It
was a high lounge and very narrow. There was nothing at the end to
hold the pillow in its place; so the pillow constantly tumbled off and
jerked Elsie's head suddenly backward, which was not at all
comfortable. Worse,--Elsie having dropped into a doze, she herself
tumbled to the floor, rolling from the glassy, smooth chintz as if it had
been a slope of ice. This adventure made her so nervous that she dared
not go to sleep again, though Johnnie fetched two chairs, and placed
them beside the sofa to hold her on. So she followed Mrs. Worretts
advice, and "amused herself with a book." There were not many books
in the best room. The one Elsie chose was a fat black volume called
"The Complete Works of Mrs. Hannah More." Part of it was prose, and
part was poetry. Elsie began with a chapter called "Hints on the
Formation of the Character of a Youthful Princess." But there were a
great many long words in it; so she turned to a story named "Coelebs in
Search of a Wife." It was about a young gentleman who wanted to get
married, but who didn't feel sure that there were any young ladies nice
enough for him; so he went about making visits, first to one and then to
another; and, when he had stayed a few days at a house, he would
always say, "No, she won't do," and then he would go away. At last, he
found a young lady who seemed the very person, who visited the poor,
and got up early in the morning, and always wore white, and never
forgot to wind up her watch or do her duty; and Elsie almost thought
that now the difficult young gentleman must be satisfied, and say, "This
is the very thing." When, lo! her attention wandered a little, and the
next thing she knew she was rolling off the lounge for the second time,
in company with Mrs. Hannah More. They landed in the chairs, and
Johnnie ran and picked them both up. Altogether, lying on the best
parlor sofa was not very restful; and as the day went on, and the sun

beating on the blindless windows made the room hotter, Elsie grew
continually more and more feverish and homesick and disconsolate.
Meanwhile Johnnie was kept in occupation by Mrs. Worrett, who had
got the idea firmly fixed in her mind, that the chief joy of a child's life
was to chase chickens. Whenever a hen fluttered past the kitchen