it fun?” she said. “Debby was real good-natured to-day, and let me put my own hand into the box, so I picked out the longest sticks there were. Now, Cecy, as you’re company, you shall have the first drink out of the bottle.”
The “something delicious” proved to be weak vinegar-and-water. It was quite warm, but somehow, drunk up there in the loft, and out of a bottle, it tasted very nice. Besides, they didn’t call it vinegar-and-water – of course not! Each child gave his or her swallow a different name, as if the bottle were like Signor Blitz’s and could pour out a dozen things at once. Clover called her share “Raspberry Shrub,” Dorry christened his “Ginger Pop,” while Cecy, who was romantic, took her three sips under the name “Hydomel,” which she explained was something nice, made, she believed, of beeswax. The last drop gone, and the last bit of cinnamon crunched, the company came to order again, for the purpose of hearing Philly repeat his one piece, –
“Little drops of water,”
which exciting poem he had said every Saturday as far back as they could remember. After that, Katy declared the literary part of the “Feet” over, and they all fell to playing “Stage-coach,” which, in spite of close quarters and an occasional bump from the roof, was such good fun, that a general “Oh dear!” welcomed the ringing of the tea-bell. I suppose cookies and vinegar had taken away their appetites, for none of them were hungry, and Dorry astonished Aunt Izzie very much by eyeing the table in a disgusted way, and saying: “Pshaw! only plum sweetmeats and sponge cake and hot biscuit! I don’t want any supper.”
“What ails the child? he must be sick,” said Dr. Carr; but Katy explained.
“Oh, no, Papa, it isn’t that – only we’ve been having a feast in the loft.”
“Did you have a good time?” asked Papa, while Aunt Izzie gave a dissatisfied groan. And all the children answered at once: “Splendiferous!”
Chapter VI.
Intimate Friends
Aunt Izzie, may I ask Imogen Clark to spend the day here on Saturday?” cried Katy, bursting in one afternoon.
“Who on earth is Imogen Clark? I never heard the name before,” replied her aunt.
“Oh, the loveliest girl! She hasn’t been going to Mrs. Knight’s school but a little while, but we’re the greatest friends. And she’s perfectly beautiful, Aunt Izzie. Her hands are just as white as snow, and no bigger than that. She’s got the littlest waist of any girl in school, and she’s real sweet, and so self-denying and unselfish! I don’t believe she has a bit good times at home, either. Do let me ask her!”
“How do you know she’s so sweet and self-denying if you’ve known her such a short time?” asked Aunt Izzie, in an unpromising tone.
“Oh, she tells me everything! We always walk together at recess now. I know all about her, and she’s just lovely! Her father used to be real rich, but they’re poor now, and Imogen had to have her boots patched twice last winter. I guess she’s the flower of hr family. You can’t think how I love her!” concluded Katy, sentimentally.
“No, I can’t,” said Aunt Izzie. “I never could see into these sudden friendships of yours, Katy, and I’d rather you wouldn’t invite this Imogen, or whatever her name is, till I’ve had a chance to ask somebody about her.”
Katy clasped her hands in despair. “Oh, Aunt Izzie!” she cried, “Imogen knows that I came in to ask you, and she’s standing at the gate at this moment, waiting to hear what you say. Please let me, just this once! I shall be so dreadfully ashamed not to.”
“Well,” said Miss Izzie, moved by the wretchedness of Katy’s face, “if you’ve asked her already it’s no use my saying no, I suppose. But recollect, Katy, this is not to happen again. I can’t have you inviting girls, and then coming for my leave. Your father won’t be at all pleased. He’s very particular about whom you make friends with. Remember how Mrs. Spenser turned out.”
Poor Katy! Her propensity to fall violently in love with new people was always getting her into scrapes. Ever since she began to walk and talk, “Katy’s intimate friends” had been one of the jokes of the household.
Papa once undertook to keep a list of them, but the number grew so great that he gave it up in despair. First on the list was a small Irish child, named Marianne O’Riley. Marianne lived in a street which Katy passed on her way to school. It was not Mrs. Knight’s, but an A B C school, to which Dorry and John now went. Marianne used to be always making sand-pies in front of her mother’s house, and Katy, who was about five years old, often stopped to help her. Over this mutual pastry they grew so intimate, that Katy resolved to adopt Marianne as her own little girl, and bring her up in a safe and hidden corner.
She told Clover of this plan, but nobody else. The two children, full of their delightful secret, began to save pieces of bread and cookies from their supper every evening. By degrees they collected a great heap of dry crusts, and other refreshments, which they put safely away in the garret. They also saved the apples which were given them for two weeks, and made a bed in a big empty box, with cotton quilts, and the doll’s pillows out of the baby-house. When all was ready, Katy broke her plan to her beloved Marianne, and easily persuaded her to run away and take possession of this new home.
“We won’t tell Papa and Mamma till she’s quite grown up,” Katy said to Clover; “then we’ll bring her down stairs, and won’t they be surprised! Don’t let’s call her Marianne any longer, either. It isn’t pretty. We’ll name her Susquehanna instead – Susquehanna Carr. Recollect, Marianne, you mustn’t answer if I call you Marianne – only when I say Susquehanna.”
“Yes’m,” replied Marianne, very meekly.
For a whole day all went on delightfully. Susquehanna lived in her wooden box, ate all the apples and the freshest cookies, and was happy. The two children took turns to steal away and play with the “Baby,” as they called Marianne, though she was a great deal bigger than Clover. But when night came on and nurse swooped on Katy and Clover and carried them off to bed, Miss O’Riley began to think that the garret was a dreadful place. Peeping out of her box she could see black things standing in corners, which she did not recollect seeing in the day-time. They were really trunks and brooms and warming-pans, but somehow in the darkness they looked different – big and awful. Poor little Marianne bore it as long as she could; but when at last a rat began to scratch in the wall close beside her, her courage gave way entirely, and she screamed at the top of her voice.
“What is that?” said Dr. Carr, who had just come in, and was on his way up stairs.
“It sounds as if it came from the attic,” said Mrs. Carr (for this was before Mamma died). “Can it be that one of the children has got out of bed and wandered up stairs in her sleep?”
No, Katy and Clover were safe in the nursery, so Dr. Carr took a candle and went as fast as he could to the attic, where the yells were growing terrific. When he reached the top of the stairs, the cries ceased. He looked about. Nothing was to be seen at first, then a little head appeared over the edge of a big wooden box, and a piteous voice sobbed out:
“Ah, Miss Katy, and indeed I can’t be stayin’ any longer. There’s rats in it!”
“Who
