What Katy Did Next

"You were not intimate at school, but I am sure Rose was never rude," said Katy, with spirit.

"Well, we won't fight about her at this late day. Tell me where you have been, and where you are going, and how long you are to stay in Europe."

Katy, glad to change the subject, complied, and the conversation diverged into comparison of plans and experiences. Lilly had been in Europe nearly a year, and had seen "almost everything," as she phrased it. She and her mother had spent the previous winter in Italy, had taken a run into Russia, "done" Switzerland and the Tyrol thoroughly, and France and Germany, and were soon going into Spain, and from there to Paris, to shop in preparation for their return home in the spring.

"Of course we shall want quantities of things," she said. "No one will believe that we have been abroad unless we bring home a lot of clothes. The lingerie and all that is ordered already; but the dresses must be made at the last moment, and we shall have a horrid time of it, I suppose. Worth has promised to make me two walking-suits and two ball-dresses, but he's very bad about keeping his word. Did you do much when you were in Paris, Katy?"

"We went to the Louvre three times, and to Versailles and St. Cloud," said Katy, wilfully misunderstanding her.

"Oh, I didn't mean that kind of stupid thing; I meant gowns. What did you buy?"

"One tailor-made suit of dark blue cloth."

"My! what moderation!"

Shopping played a large part in Lilly's reminiscences. She recollected places, not from their situation or beauty or historical associations, or because of the works of art which they contained, but as the places where she bought this or that.

"Oh, that dear Piazza di Spagna!" she would say; "that was where I found my rococo necklace, the loveliest thing you ever saw, Katy." Or, "Prague—oh yes, mother got the most enchanting old silver chatelaine there, with all kinds of things hanging to it,—needlecases and watches and scent-bottles, all solid, and so beautifully chased." Or again, "Berlin was horrid, we thought; but the amber is better and cheaper than anywhere else,—great strings of beads, of the largest size and that beautiful pale yellow, for a hundred francs. You must get yourself one, Katy."

Poor Lilly! Europe to her was all "things." She had collected trunks full of objects to carry home, but of the other collections which do not go into trunks, she had little or none. Her mind was as empty, her heart as untouched as ever; the beauty and the glory and the pathos of art and history and Nature had been poured out in vain before her closed and indifferent eyes.

Life soon dropped into a peaceful routine at the Pension Suisse, which was at the same time restful and stimulating. Katy's first act in the morning, as soon as she opened her eyes, was to hurry to the window in hopes of getting a glimpse of Corsica. She had discovered that this elusive island could almost always be seen from Nice at the dawning, but that as soon as the sun was fairly up, it vanished to appear no more for the rest of the day. There was something fascinating to her imagination in the hovering mountain outline between sea and sky. She felt as if she were under an engagement to be there to meet it, and she rarely missed the appointment. Then, after Corsica had pulled the bright mists over its face and melted from view, she would hurry with her dressing, and as soon as was practicable set to work to make the salon look bright before the coffee and rolls should appear, a little after eight o'clock. Mrs. Ashe always found the fire lit, the little meal cosily set out beside it, and Katy's happy untroubled face to welcome her when she emerged from her room; and the cheer of these morning repasts made a good beginning for the day.

Then came walking and a French lesson, and a long sitting on the beach, while Katy worked at her home letters and Amy raced up and down in the sun; and then toward noon Lieutenant Ned generally appeared, and some scheme of pleasure was set on foot. Mrs. Ashe ignored his evident penchant for Lilly Page, and claimed his time and attentions as hers by right. Young Worthington was a good deal "taken" with the pretty Lilly; still, he had an old-time devotion for his sister and the habit of doing what she desired, and he yielded to her behests with no audible objections. He made a fourth in the carriage while they drove over the lovely hills which encircle Nice toward the north, to Cimiers and the Val de St. André, or down the coast toward Ventimiglia. He went with them to Monte-Carlo and Mentone, and was their escort again and again when they visited the great war-ships as they lay at anchor in a bay which in its translucent blue was like an enormous sapphire.

Mrs. Page and her daughter were included in these parties more than once; but there was something in Mrs. Ashe's cool appropriation of her brother which was infinitely vexatious to Lilly, who before her arrival had rather looked upon Lieutenant Worthington as her own especial property.

"I wish that Mrs. Ashe had stayed at home," she told her mother. "She quite spoils everything. Mr. Worthington isn't half so nice as he was before she came. I do believe she has a plan for making him fall in love with Katy; but there she makes a miss of it, for he doesn't seem to care anything about her."

"Katy is a nice girl enough," pronounced her mother, "but not of the sort to attract a gay young man, I should fancy. I don't believe she is thinking of any such thing. You needn't be afraid, Lilly."

"I'm not afraid," said Lilly, with a pout; "only it's so provoking."

Mrs. Page was quite right. Katy was not thinking of any such thing. She liked Ned Worthington's frank manners; she owned, quite honestly, that she thought him handsome, and she particularly admired the sort of deferential affection which he showed to Mrs. Ashe, and his nice ways with Amy. For herself, she was aware that he scarcely noticed her except as politeness demanded that he should be civil to his sister's friend; but the knowledge did not trouble her particularly. Her head was full of interesting things, plans, ideas. She was not accustomed to being made the object of admiration, and experienced none of the vexations of a neglected belle. If Lieutenant Worthington happened to talk to her, she responded frankly and freely; if he did not, she occupied herself with something else; in either case she was quite unembarrassed both in feeling and manner, and had none of the awkwardness which comes from disappointed vanity and baffled expectations, and the need for concealing them.

Toward the close of December the officers of the flag-ship gave a ball, which was the great event of the season to the gay world of Nice. Americans were naturally in the ascendant on an American frigate; and of all the American girls present, Lilly Page was unquestionably the prettiest. Exquisitely dressed in white lace, with bands of turquoises on her neck and arms and in her hair, she had more partners than she knew what to do with, more bouquets than she could well carry, and compliments enough to turn any girl's head. Thrown off her guard by her triumphs, she indulged a little vindictive feeling which had been growing in her mind of late on account of what she chose to consider certain derelictions of duty on the part of Lieutenant Worthington, and treated him to a taste of neglect. She was engaged three deep when he asked her to dance; she did not hear when he invited her to walk; she turned a cold shoulder when he tried to talk, and seemed absorbed by the other cavaliers, naval and otherwise, who crowded about her.

Piqued and surprised, Ned Worthington turned to Katy. She did not dance, saying frankly that she did not know how and was too tall; and she was rather simply dressed in a pearl-gray silk, which had been her best gown the winter before in Burnet, with a bunch of red roses in the white lace of the tucker, and another in her hand, both the gifts of little Amy; but she looked pleasant and serene, and there was something about her which somehow soothed his disturbed mind, as he offered her his arm for a walk on the decks.

For a while they said little, and Katy was quite content to pace up and down in silence, enjoying the really beautiful scene,—the moonlight on the Bay, the deep wavering reflections of the dark hulls and slender spars, the fairy effect of the colored lamps and lanterns, and the brilliant moving maze of the dancers.

"Do you care for this sort of thing?" he suddenly asked.

"What sort of thing do you mean?"

"Oh, all this jigging and waltzing and amusement."

"I don't know how to 'jig,' but it's delightful to look on," she answered merrily. "I never saw anything so pretty in my life."

The happy tone of her voice and the unruffled face which she turned upon him quieted his irritation.

"I really believe you mean it," he said; "and yet, if you won't think me rude to say so, most girls would consider the thing dull enough if they were only getting out of it what you are,—if they were not dancing, I mean, and nobody in particular was trying to entertain them."

"But everything is being done to entertain me," cried Katy. "I can't imagine what makes you think that it could seem dull. I am in it all, don't you see,—I have my share—. Oh, I am stupid, I can't make you understand."

"Yes, you do. I understand perfectly, I think; only it is such a different point of view from what girls in general would take." (By girls he meant Lilly!) "Please do not think me uncivil."

"You are not uncivil at all; but don't let us talk any more about me. Look at the lights between the shadows of the masts on the water. How they quiver! I never saw anything so beautiful, I think. And how warm it is! I can't believe that we are in December and that it is nearly Christmas."

"How is Polly going to celebrate her Christmas? Have you decided?"

"Amy is to have a Christmas-tree for her dolls, and two other dolls are coming. We went out this morning to buy things for it,—tiny little toys and candles fit for Lilliput. And that reminds me, do you suppose one can get any Christmas greens here?"

"Why not? The place seems full of green."

"That's just it; the summer look makes it unnatural. But I should like some to dress the parlor with if they could be had."

"I'll see what I can find, and send you a load."

I don't know why this very simple little talk should have made an impression on Lieutenant Worthington's mind, but somehow he did not forget it.

"'Don't let us talk any more about me,'" he said to himself that night when alone in his cabin. "I wonder how long it would be before the other one did anything to divert the talk from herself. Some time, I fancy." He smiled rather grimly as he unbuckled his sword-belt. It is unlucky for a girl when she starts a train of reflection like this. Lilly's little attempt to pique her admirer had somehow missed its mark.

The next afternoon Katy in her favorite place on the beach was at work on the long weekly letter which she never failed to send home to Burnet. She held her portfolio in her lap, and her pen ran rapidly over the paper, as rapidly almost as her tongue would have run could her correspondents have been brought nearer.

"Nice, December 22.

"Dear Papa and everybody,—Amy and I are sitting on my old purple     cloak, which is spread over the sand just where it was spread the     last time I wrote you. We are playing the following game: I am a     fairy and she is a little girl. Another fairy—not sitting on the     cloak at present—has enchanted the little girl, and I am telling     her various ways by which she can work out her deliverance. At     present the task is to find twenty-four dull red pebbles of the same     color, failing to do which she is to be changed into an owl. When we     began to play, I was the wicked fairy; but Amy objected to that     because I am 'so nice,' so we changed the characters. I wish you     could see the glee in her pretty gray eyes over this infantile game,     into which she has thrown herself so thoroughly that she half     believes in it. 'But I needn't really be changed into an owl! 'she     says, with a good deal of anxiety in her voice.

"To think that you are shivering in the first snow-storm, or sending     the children out with their sleds and india-rubbers to slide! How I     wish instead that you were sharing the purple cloak with Amy and me,     and could sit all this warm balmy afternoon close to the surf-line     which fringes this bluest of blue seas! There is plenty of room for     you all. Not many people come down to this end of the beach, and if     you were very good we would let you play.

"Our life here goes on as delightfully as ever. Nice is very full of     people, and there seem to be some pleasant ones among them. Here at     the Pension Suisse we do not see a great many Americans. The     fellow-boarders are principally Germans and Austrians with a     sprinkling of French. (Amy has found her twenty-four red pebbles, so     she is let off from being an owl. She is now engaged in throwing     them one by one into the sea. Each must hit the water under penalty     of her being turned into a Muscovy duck. She doesn't know exactly     what a Muscovy duck is, which makes her all the more particular     about her shots.) But, as I was saying, our little suite in the     round tower is so on one side of the rest of the Pension that it is     as good as having a house of our own. The salon is very bright and     sunny; we have two sofas and a square table and a round table and a     sort of what-not and two easy-chairs and two uneasy chairs and a     lamp of our own and a clock. There is also a sofa-pillow. There's     richness for you! We have pinned up all our photographs on the     walls, including Papa's and Clovy's and that bad one of Phil and     Johnnie making faces at each other, and three lovely red and yellow     Japanese pictures on muslin which Rose Red put in my trunk the last     thing, for a spot of color. There are some autumn leaves too; and we     always have flowers and in the mornings and evenings a fire.

"Amy is now finding fifty snow-white pebbles, which when found are     to be interred in one common grave among the shingle. If she fails     to do this, she is to be changed to an electrical eel. The chief     difficulty is that she loses her heart to particular pebbles. 'I     can't bury you,' I hear her saying.

"To return,—we have jolly little breakfasts together in the     salon. They consist of coffee and rolls, and are served by a     droll, snappish little garçon with no teeth, and an Italian-French     patois which is very hard to understand when he sputters. He told me     the other day that he had been a garçon for forty-six years, which     seemed rather a long boyhood.

"The company, as we meet them at table, are rather entertaining.     Cousin Olivia and Lilly are on their best behavior to me because I     am travelling with Mrs. Ashe, and Mrs. Ashe is Lieutenant     Worthington's sister, and Lieutenant Worthington is Lilly's admirer,     and they like him very much. In fact, Lilly has intimated     confidentially that she is all but engaged to him; but I am not sure     about it, or if that was what she meant; and I fear, if it proves     true, that dear Polly will not like it at all. She is quite     unmanageable, and snubs Lilly continually in a polite way, which     makes me fidgety for fear Lilly will be offended, but she never     seems to notice it. Cousin Olivia looks very handsome and gorgeous.     She quite takes the color out of the little Russian Countess who     sits next to her, and who is as dowdy and meek as if she came from     Akron or Binghampton, or any other place where countesses are     unknown. Then there are two charming, well-bred young Austrians. The     one who sits nearest to me is a 'Candidat' for a Doctorate of Laws,     and speaks eight languages well. He has only studied English for the     past six weeks, but has made wonderful progress. I wish my French     were half as good as his English is already.

"There is a very gossiping young woman on the story beneath ours,     whom I meet sometimes in the garden, and from her I hear all manner     of romantic tales about people in the house. One little French girl     is dying of consumption and a broken heart, because of a quarrel     with her lover, who is a courier; and the padrona, who is young     and pretty, and has only been married a few months to our elderly     landlord, has a story also. I forget some of the details; but there     was a stern parent and an admirer, and a cup of cold poison, and now     she says she wishes she were dying of consumption like poor     Alphonsine. For all that, she looks quite fat and rosy, and I often     see her in her best gown with a great deal of Roman scarf and mosaic     jewelry, stationed in the doorway, 'making the Pension look     attractive to the passers-by.' So she has a sense of duty, though     she is unhappy.

"Amy has buried all her pebbles, and says she is tired of playing     fairy. She is now sitting with her head on my shoulder, and     professedly studying her French verb for to-morrow, but in reality,     I am sorry to say, she is conversing with me about be-headings,—a     subject which, since her visit to the Tower, has exercised a     horrible fascination over her mind. 'Do people die right away?' she     asks. 'Don't they feel one minute, and doesn't it feel awfully?'     There is a good deal of blood, she supposes, because there was so     much straw laid about the block in the picture of Lady Jane Gray's     execution, which enlivened our walls in Paris. On the whole, I am     rather glad that a fat little white dog has come waddling down the     beach and taken off her attention.

"Speaking of Paris seems to renew the sense of fog which we had     there. Oh, how enchanting sunshine is after weeks of gloom! I shall     never forget how the Mediterranean looked when we saw it first,—all     blue, and such a lovely color. There ought, according to Morse's     Atlas, to have been a big red letter T on the water about where we     were, but I didn't see any. Perhaps they letter it so far out from     shore that only people in boats notice it.

"Now the dusk is fading, and the odd chill which hides under these     warm afternoons begins to be felt. Amy has received a message     written on a mysterious white pebble to the effect—"

Katy was interrupted at this point by a crunching step on the gravel behind her.