Susan Coolidge - What Katy Did

“I wish I had something pretty to put into everybody’s stocking,” she went on, wistfully; “but I’ve only got the muffetees for Papa, and these reins for Phil.” She took them from under her pillow as she spoke—gay worsted affairs, with bells sewed on here and there. She had knit them herself, a very little bit at a time.

“There’s my pink sash,” she said suddenly, “I might give that to Clover. I only wore it once, you know, and I don’t think I got any spots on it. Would you please fetch it and let me see, Aunt Izzie? It’s in the top drawer.”

Aunt Izzie brought the sash. It proved to be quite fresh, and they both decided that it would do nicely for Clover.

“You know I sha’n’t want sashes for ever so long,” said Katy, in rather a sad tone, “And this is a beauty.”

When she spoke next, her voice was bright again.

“I wish I had something real nice for Elsie. Do you know, Aunt Izzie—I think Elsie is the dearest little girl that ever was.”

“I’m glad you’ve found it out,” said Aunt Izzie, who had always been specially fond of Elsie.

“What she wants most of all is a writing-desk,” continued Katy. “And Johnnie wants a sled. But, oh dear! these are such big things. And I’ve only got two dollars and a quarter.”

Aunt Izzie marched out of the room without saying anything. When she came back she had something folded up in her hand.

“I didn’t know what to give you for Christmas, Katy,” she said, “because Helen sends you such a lot of things that there don’t seem to be anything you haven’t already. So I thought I’d give you this, and let you choose for yourself. But if you’ve set your heart on getting presents for the children, perhaps you’d rather have it now.” So saying, Aunt Izzie laid on the bed a crisp, new five-dollar bill!

“How good you are!” cried Katy, flushed with pleasure. And indeed Aunt Izzie did seem to have grown wonderfully good of late. Perhaps Katy had got hold of her smooth handle!

Being now in possession of seven dollars and a quarter, Katy could afford to be gorgeously generous. She gave Aunt Izzie an exact description of the desk she wanted.

“It’s no matter about its being very big,” said Katy, “but it must have a blue velvet lining, and an inkstand, with a silver top. And please buy some little sheets of paper and envelopes, and a pen-handle; the prettiest you can find. Oh! and there must be a lock and key. Don’t forget that, Aunt Izzie.”

“No, I won’t. What else?”

“I’d like the sled to be green,” went on Katy, “and to have a nice name. Sky-Scraper would be nice, if there was one. Johnnie saw a sled once called Sky-Scraper, and she said it was splendid. And if there’s money enough left, Aunty, won’t you buy me a real nice book for Dorry, and another for Cecy, and a silver thimble for Mary? Her old one is full of holes. Oh! and some candy. And something for Debby and Bridget—some little thing, you know. I think that’s all!”

Was ever seven dollars and a quarter expected to do so much? Aunt Izzie must have been a witch, indeed, to make it hold out. But she did, and next day all the precious bundles came home. How Katy enjoyed untying the strings!

Everything was exactly right.

“There wasn’t any Sky-Scraper,” said Aunt Izzie, “so I got ‘Snow-Skimmer’ instead.”

“It’s beautiful, and I like it just as well,” said Katy contentedly. “Oh, hide them, hide them!” she cried with sudden terror, “somebody’s coming.” But the somebody was only Papa, who put his head into the room as Aunt Izzie, laden with bundles, scuttled across the hall.

Katy was glad to catch him alone. She had a little private secret to talk over with him. It was about Aunt Izzie, for whom she, as yet, had no present.

“I thought perhaps you’d get me a book like that one of Cousin Helen’s, which Aunt Izzie liked so much,” she said. “I don’t recollect the name exactly. It was something about a Shadow. But I’ve spent all my money.”

“Never mind about that,” said Dr. Carr. “We’ll make that right. ‘The Shadow of the Cross’—was that it? I’ll buy it this afternoon.”

“Oh, thank you, Papa! And please get a brown cover, if you can, because Cousin Helen’s was brown. And you won’t let Aunt Izzie know, will you? Be careful, Papa!”

“I’ll swallow the book first, brown cover and all,” said Papa, making a funny face. He was pleased to see Katy so interested about anything again.

These delightful secrets took up so much of her thoughts, that Katy scarcely found time to wonder at the absence of the children, who generally haunted her room, but who for three days back had hardly been seen. However, after supper they all came up in a body, looking very merry, and as if they had been having a good time somewhere.

“You don’t know what we’ve been doing,” began Philly.

“Hush, Phil!” said Clover, in a warning voice. Then she divided the stockings which she held in her hand. And everybody proceeded to hang them up.

Dorry hung his on one side of the fireplace, and John hers exactly opposite. Clover and Phil suspended theirs side by side, on two handles of the bureau.

“I’m going to put mine here, close to Katy, so that she can see it the first fing in the mornin’,” said Elsie, pinning hers to the bed-post.

Then they all sat down round the fire to write their wishes on bits of paper, and see whether they would burn, or fly up the chimney. If they did the latter, it was a sign that Santa Claus had them safe, and would bring the things wished for.

John wished for a sled and a doll’s tea-set, and the continuation of the Swiss Family Robinson. Dorry’s list ran thus:

“A plum-cake,

A new Bibel,

Harry and Lucy,

A Kellidescope,

Everything else Santa Claus likes.”

When they had written these lists they threw them into the fire. The fire gave a flicker just then, and the papers vanished. Nobody saw exactly how. John thought they flew up chimney, but Dorry said they didn’t. Phil dropped his piece in very solemnly. It flamed for a minute, then sank into ashes.

“There, you won’t get it, whatever it was!” said Dorry. “What did you write, Phil?”

“Nofing,” said Phil, “only just Philly Carr.”

The children shouted.

“I wrote ‘a writing-desk’ on mine,” remarked Elsie, sorrowfully, “but it all burned up.”

Katy chuckled when she heard this.

And now Clover produced her list. She read aloud:

“ ‘Strive and Thrive,’

A pair of kid gloves,

A muff,

A good temper!”

Then she dropped it into the fire. Behold, it flew straight up chimney.

“How queer!” said Katy; “none of the rest of them did that.”

The truth was, that Clover, who was a canny little mortal, had slipped across the room and opened the door just before putting her wishes in. This, of course, made a draft, and sent the paper right upward.

Pretty soon Aunt Izzie came in and swept them all off to bed.

“I know how it will be in the morning,” she said, “you’ll all be up and racing about as soon as it is light. So you must get your sleep now, if ever.”

After they had gone, Katy recollected that nobody had offered to hang a stocking up for her. She felt a little hurt when she thought of it. “But I suppose they forgot,” she said to herself.

A little later Papa and Aunt Izzie came in, and they filled the stockings. It was great fun. Each was brought to Katy, as she lay in bed, that she might arrange it as she liked.

The toes were stuffed with candy and oranges. Then came the parcels, all shapes and sizes, tied in white paper, with ribbons, and labelled.

“What’s that?” asked Dr. Carr, as Aunt Izzie rammed a long, narrow package into Clover’s stocking.