and Elsie timidly put her head into the room.
“Oh, Elsie, run away!” cried Katy. “Cousin Helen and I are talking. Don’t come just now.”
Katy didn’t speak unkindly, but Elsie’s face fell, and she looked disappointed. She said nothing, however, but shut the door and stole away.
Cousin Helen watched this little scene without speaking. For a few minutes after Elsie was gone she seemed to be thinking.
“Katy,” she said at last, “you were saying just now, that one of the things you were sorry about was that while you were ill you could be of no use to the children. Do you know, I don’t think you have that reason for being sorry.”
“Why not?” said Katy, astonished.
“Because you can be of use. It seems to me that you have more of a chance with the children now, than you ever could have had when you were well, and flying about as you used. You might do almost anything you liked with them.”
“I can’t think what you mean,” said Katy, sadly. “Why, Cousin Helen, half the time I don’t even know where they are, or what they are doing. And I can’t get up and go after them, you know.”
“But you can make your room such a delightful place, that they will want to come to you! Don’t you see, a sick person has one splendid chance – she is always on hand. Everybody who wants her knows just where to go. If people love her, she gets naturally to be the heart of the house.
“Once make the little ones feel that your room is the place of all others to come to when they are tired, or happy, or grieved, or sorry about anything, and that the Katy who lives there is sure to give them a loving reception – and the battle is won. For you know we never do people good by lecturing; only by living their lives with them, and helping a little here, and a little there, to make them better. And when one’s own life is laid aside for a while, as yours is now, that is the very time to take up other people’s lives, as we can’t do when we are scurrying and bustling over our own affairs. But I didn’t mean to preach a sermon. I’m afraid you’re tired.”
“No I’m not a bit,” said Katy, holding Cousin Helen’s hand tight in hers; “you can’t think how much better I feel. Oh, Cousin Helen, I will try!”
“It won’t be easy,” replied her cousin. “There will be days when your head aches, and you feel cross and fretted, and don’t want to think of any one but yourself. And there’ll be other days when Clover and the rest will come in, as Elsie did just now, and you will be doing something else, and will feel as if their coming was a bother. But you must recollect that every time you forget, and are impatient or selfish, you chill them and drive them farther away. They are loving little things, and are so sorry for you now, that nothing you do makes them angry. But by and by they will get used to having you sick, and if you haven’t won them as friends, they will grow away from you as they get older.”
Just then, Dr. Carr came in.
“Oh, Papa! you haven’t come to take Cousin Helen, have you?” cried Katy.
“Indeed I have,” said her father. “I think the big invalid and the little invalid have talked quite long enough. Cousin Helen looks tired.”
For a minute, Katy felt just like crying. But she choked back the tears. “My first lesson in Patience,” she said to herself, and managed to give a faint, watery smile as Papa looked at her.
“That’s right, dear,” whispered Cousin Helen, as she bent forward to kiss her. “And one last word, Katy. In this school, to which you and I belong, there is one great comfort, and that is that the Teacher is always at hand. He never goes away. If things puzzle us, there He is, close by, ready to explain and make all easy. Try to think of this, darling, and don’t be afraid to ask Him for help if the lesson seems too hard.”
Katy had a strange dream that night. She thought she was trying to study a lesson out of a book which wouldn’t come quite open. She could just see a little bit of what was inside, but it was in a language which she did not understand. She tried in vain: not a word could she read; and yet, for all that, it looked so interesting that she longed to go on.
“Oh, if somebody would only help me!” she cried impatiently.
Suddenly a hand came over her shoulder and took hold of the book. It opened at once, and showed the whole page. And then the forefinger of the hand began to point to line after line, and as it moved the words became plain, and Katy could read them easily. She looked up. There, stooping over her, was a great beautiful Face. The eyes met hers. The lips smiled.
“Why didn’t you ask me before, Little Scholar?” said a voice.
“Why, it is You, just as Cousin Helen told me!” cried Katy.
She must have spoken in her sleep, for Aunt Izzie half woke up, and said:
“What is it? Do you want anything?”
The dream broke, and Katy roused, to find herself in bed, with the first sunbeams struggling in at the window, and Aunt Izzie raised on her elbow, looking at her with a sort of sleepy wonder.
Chapter X.
St. Nicholas and St. Valentine
What are the children all doing to-day?” said Katy, laying down “Norway and the Norwegians,” which she was reading for the fourth time; “I haven’t seen them since breakfast.”
Aunt Izzie, who was sewing on the other side of the room, looked up from her work.
“I don’t know,” she said; “they’re over at Cecy’s, or somewhere. They’ll be back before long, I guess.”
Her voice sounded a little odd and mysterious, but Katy didn’t notice it.
“I thought of such a nice plan yesterday,” she went on. “That was that all of them should hang their stockings up here to-morrow night instead of in the nursery. Then I could see them open their presents, you know. Mayn’t they, Aunt Izzie? It would be real fun.”
“I don’t believe there will be any objection,” replied her aunt. She looked as if she were trying not to laugh. Katy wondered what was the matter with her.
It was more than two months now since Cousin Helen went away, and Winter had fairly come. Snow was falling out-doors. Katy could see the thick flakes go whirling past the window, but the sight did not chill her. It only made the room look warmer and more cosy. It was a pleasant room now. There was a bright fire in the grate. Everything was neat and orderly, the air was sweet with mignonette, from a little glass of flowers which stood on the table, and the Katy who lay in bed, was a very different-looking Katy from the forlorn girl of the last chapter.
Cousin Helen’s visit, though it lasted only one day, did great good. Not that Katy grew perfect all at once. None of us do that, even in books. But it is everything to be started in the right path. Katy’s feet were on it now; and though she often stumbled and slipped, and often sat down discouraged, she kept on pretty steadily, in spite of bad days, which made her say to herself that she was not getting forward at all.
These
