care, if Katy says they’re ripe I shall eat ‘em,” answered Phil, defiantly, marching into the house.
“What did Philly want?” asked Elsie, opening the parlor door as Phil went up stairs.
“Only to know if the currants are ripe enough to eat.”
“How particular he always is about asking now!” said Elsie; “he’s afraid of another dose of salts.”
“I should think he would be,” replied Clover, laughing. “Johnnie says she never was so scared in her life as when Papa called them, and they looked up, and saw him standing there with the bottle in one hand and a spoon in the other!”
“Yes,” went on Elsie, “and you know Dorry held his in his mouth for ever so long, and then went round the corner of the house and spat it out! Papa said he had a good mind to make him take another spoonful, but he remembered that after all Dorry had the bad taste a great deal longer than the others, so he didn’t. I think it was an awful punishment, don’t you?”
“Yes, but it was a good one, for none of them have ever touched green gooseberries since. Have you got through practising? It doesn’t seem like an hour yet.”
“Oh, it isn’t – it’s only twenty-five minutes. But Katy told me not to sit more than half an hour at a time without getting up and running round to rest. I’m going to walk twice down to the gate, and twice back. I promised her I would.” And Elsie set off, clapping her hands briskly before and behind her as she walked.
“Why – what is Bridget doing in Papa’s room?” she asked, as she came back the second time. “She’s flapping things out of the window. Are the girls up there? I thought they were cleaning the dining-room.”
“They’re doing both. Katy said it was such a good chance, having Papa away, that she would have both the carpets taken up at once. There isn’t going to be any dinner to-day, only just bread and butter, and milk, and cold ham, up in Katy’s room, because Debby is helping too, so as to get through and save Papa all the fuss. And see,” exhibiting her sewing, “Katy’s making a new cover for Papa’s pincushion, and I’m hemming the ruffle to go round it.”
“How nicely you hem!” said Elsie. “I wish I had something for Papa’s room too. There’s my washstand mats – but the one for the soap-dish isn’t finished. Do you suppose, if Katy would excuse me from the rest of my practising, I could get it done? I’ve a great mind to go and ask her.”
“There’s her bell!” said Clover, as a little tinkle sounded up stairs; “I’ll ask her if you like.”
“No, let me go. I’ll see what she wants.” But Clover was already half-way across the hall, and the two girls ran up side by side. There was often a little strife between them as to which should answer Katy’s bell. Both liked to wait on her so much.
Katy came to meet them as they entered. Not on her feet: that, alas! was still only a far-off possibility; but in a chair with large wheels, with which she was rolling herself across the room. This chair was a great comfort to her. Sitting in it, she could get to her closet and her bureau-drawers, and help herself to what she wanted without troubling anybody. It was only lately that she had been able to use it. Dr. Carr considered her doing so as a hopeful sign, but he had never told Katy this. She had grown accustomed to her invalid life at last, and was cheerful in it, and he thought it unwise to make her restless, by exciting hopes which might after all end in fresh disappointment.
She met the girls with a bright smile as they came in, and said:
“Oh, Clovy, it was you I rang for! I am troubled for fear Bridget will meddle with the things on Papa’s table. You know he likes them to be left just so. Will you please go and remind her that she is not to touch them at all? After the carpet is put down, I want you to dust the table, so as to be sure that everything is put back in the same place. Will you?”
“Of course I will!” said Clover, who was a born housewife, and dearly loved to act as Katy’s prime minister.
“Sha’n’t I fetch you the pincushion too, while I’m there?”
“Oh, yes, please do! I want to measure.”
“Katy,” said Elsie, “those mats of mine are most done, and I would like to finish them and put them on Papa’s washstand before he comes back. Mayn’t I stop practising now, and bring my crochet up here instead?”
“Will there be plenty of time to learn the new exercise before Miss Phillips comes, if you do?”
“I think so, plenty. She doesn’t come till Friday, you know.”
“Well, then, it seems to me that you might just as well as not. And Elsie, dear, run into Papa’s room first, and bring me the drawer out of his table. I want to put that in order myself.”
Elsie went cheerfully. She laid the drawer across Katy’s lap, and Katy began to dust and arrange the contents. Pretty soon Clover joined them.
“Here’s the cushion,” she said. “Now we’ll have a nice quiet time all by ourselves, won’t we? I like this sort of day, when nobody comes in to interrupt us.”
Somebody tapped at the door, as she spoke. Katy called out, “Come!” And in marched a tall, broad-shouldered lad, with a solemn, sensible face, and a little clock carried carefully in both his hands. This was Dorry. He has grown and improved very much since we saw him last, and is turning out clever in several ways. Among the rest, he has developed a strong turn for mechanics.
“Here’s your clock, Katy,” he said. “I’ve got it fixed so that it strikes all right. Only you must be careful not to hit the striker when you start the pendulum.”
“Have you really?” said Katy. “Why, Dorry, you’re a genius! I’m ever so much obliged.”
“It’s four minutes to eleven now,” went on Dorry. “So it’ll strike pretty soon. I guess I’d better stay and hear it, so as to be sure that it is right. That is,” he added politely, “unless you’re busy, and would rather not.”
“I’m never too busy to want you, old fellow,” said Katy, stroking his arm. “Here, this drawer is arranged now. Don’t you want to carry it into Papa’s room and put it back into the table? Your hands are stronger than Elsie’s.”
Dorry looked gratified. When he came back the clock was just beginning to strike.
“There!” he exclaimed; “that’s splendid, isn’t it?”
But alas! the clock did not stop at eleven. It went on – Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen!
“Dear me!” said Clover, “what does all this mean? It must be the day after to-morrow, at least.”
Dorry stared with open mouth at the clock, which was still striking as though it would split its sides. Elsie, screaming with laughter, kept count.
“Thirty, Thirty-one – Oh, Dorry! Thirty-two! Thirty-three! Thirty-four!”
“You’ve bewitched it, Dorry!” said. Katy, as much entertained as the rest.
Then they all began counting. Dorry seized the clock – shook it, slapped it, turned it upside down. But still the sharp, vibrating sounds
