“Here is the room which I propose to give you,” she said.
Katy and Clover looked eagerly about. It was a small room, but the sun shone in cheerfully at the window. There was a maple bedstead and table, a couple of chairs, and a row of hooks; that was all, except that in the wall was set a case of black-handled drawers, with cupboard-doors above them.
“These take the place of a bureau, and hold your clothes,” explained Mrs. Florence, pulling out one of the drawers. “I hope, when once you are settled, you will find yourselves comfortable. The rooms are small; but young people do not require so much space as older ones. Though, indeed, your elder daughter, Dr. Carr, looks more advanced and grown-up that I was prepared to find her. What did you say was her age?”
“She is past sixteen; but she has been so long confined to her room by the illness of which I wrote, that you may probably find her behind in some respects, which reminds me” (this was very adroit of papa!) “I am anxious that she should keep up the system to which she has been accustomed at home,—among other things, sponge-baths of cold water every morning; and, as I see that the bedrooms are not furnished with wash-stands, I will ask your permission to provide one for the use of my little girls. Perhaps you will kindly tell me where I would look for it?”
Mrs. Florence was not pleased, but she could not object; so she mentioned a shop. Katy’s heart gave a bound of relief. She thought No. 6, with a wash-stand, might be very comfortable. Its bareness and simplicity had the charm of novelty. Then there was something very interesting to her in the idea of a whole house full of girls.
They did not stay long, after seeing the room, but went off on a shopping excursion. Shops were few and far between at Hillsover; but they found a neat little maple wash-stand and rocking-chair, and papa also bought a comfortable low chair, with a slatted back and a cushion. This was for Katy.
“Never study till your back aches,” he told her: “when you are tired, lie flat on the bed for half an hour, and tell Mrs. Florence that it was by my direction.”
“Or Mrs. Nipson,” said Katy, laughing rather ruefully. She had taken no fancy to Mrs. Nipson, and did not enjoy the idea of a divided authority.
A hurried lunch at the hotel followed, and then it was time for Dr. Carr to go away. They all walked to the school together, and said good-by upon the steps. The girls would not cry, but they clung very tightly to papa, and put as much feeling into their last kisses as would have furnished forth half a dozen fits of tears. Lilly might have thought them cold-hearted, but papa did not; he knew better.
“That’s my brave girls!” he said. Then he kissed them once more, and hurried away. Perhaps he did not wish them to see that his eyes too were a little misty.
As the door closed behind them, Katy and Clover realized that they were alone among strangers. The sensation was not pleasant; and they felt forlorn, as they went upstairs, and down Quaker Row, toward No. 6.
“Aha! so you’re going to be next door,” said a gay voice, as they passed No. 5, and Rose Red popped her head into the hall. “Well, I’m glad,” she went on, shaking hands cordially; “I sort of thought you would, and yet I didn’t know; and there are some awful stiffies among the new girls. How do you both do?”
“Oh! are we next door to you?” cried Clover, brightening.
“Yes. It’s rather good of me not to hate you; for I wanted the end room myself, and Mrs. Florence wouldn’t give it to me. Come in, and let me introduce you to my room-mate. It’s against the rules, but that’s no matter: nobody pretends to keep rules the first day.”
They went in. No.5 was precisely like No. 6, in shape, size and furniture; but Rose had unpacked her trunk, and decorated the room with odds and ends of all sorts. The table was covered with books and boxes; colored lithographs were pinned on the walls; a huge blue rosette ornamented the head-board of the bed; the blinds were tied together with pink ribbon; over the top of the window was a festoon of hemlock boughs, fresh and spicy. The effect was fantastic, but cheery; and Katy and Clover exclaimed, with one voice, “How pretty!”
The room-mate was a pale, shy girl, with a half-scared look in her eyes, and small hands which twisted uneasily together when she moved and spoke. Her name was Mary Silver. She and Rose were so utterly unlike, that Katy thought it odd they should have chosen to be together. Afterward she understood it better. Rose liked to protect, and Mary to be protected; Rose to talk, and Mary to listen. Mary evidently considered Rose the most entertaining creature in the world; she giggled violently at all her jokes, and then stopped short and covered her mouth with her fingers, in a frightened way, as if giggling were wrong.
“Only think, Mary,” began Rose, after introducing Katy and Clover, “these young ladies have got the end room. What do you suppose was the reason that Mrs. Florence did not give it to us? It’s very peculiar.”
Mary laughed her uneasy laugh. She looked as if she could tell the reason, but did not dare.
“Never mind,” continued Rose. “Trials are good for one, they say. It’s something to have nice people in the room, if we can’t be there ourselves. You are nice, aren’t you?” turning to Clover.
“Very,” replied Clover, laughing.
“I thought so. I can almost always tell without asking; still, it is something to have it on the best authority. We’ll be good neighbors, won’t we? Look here!” and she pulled one of the black-handled drawers completely out and laid it on the bed. “Do you see? your drawers are exactly behind ours. At any time in silent study hour, if I have something I want to say, I’ll rap and pop a note into your drawer, and you can do the same to me. Isn’t it fun?”
Clover said, “Yes;” but Katy, though she laughed, shook her head.
“Don’t entice us into mischief,” she said.
“Oh, gracious!” exclaimed Rose. “Now, are you going to be good,— you two? If you are, just break the news at once, and have it over. I can bear it.” She fanned herself in such a comical way that no one could help laughing. Mary Silver joined, but stopped pretty soon in her sudden manner.
“There’s Mary, now,” went on Rose: “she’s a Paragon. But, if any more are coming into the entry, just give me fair notice, and I pack and move up among the sinners in Attic Row. Somehow, you don’t look like Paragons either,—you especially,” nodding to Clover. “Your eyes are like violets; but so are Sylvia’s—that’s my sister,—and she’s the greatest witch in Massachusetts. Eyes are dreadfully deceitful things. As for you,”—to Katy,—“you’re so tall that I can’t take you in all at once; but the piece I see doesn’t look dreadful a bit.”
Rose was sitting in the window as she made these remarks; and, leaning forward suddenly, she gave a pretty, blushing nod to some one below. Katy glanced down, and saw a handsome young man replacing the cap he had lifted from his head.
“That’s Berry Searles,” said Rose. “He’s the president’s son, you know. He always comes through the side yard to get to his room. That’s it,—the one with the red curtain. It’s exactly opposite your window: don’t you see?”
“So it is!” exclaimed Katy, remembering what Lilly had said. “Oh! was that the reason?”—she stopped, afraid of being rude.
“The reason we wanted the room?” inquired Rose, coolly. “Well, I don’t know. It hadn’t occurred to me to look at it in that light. Mary!” with sudden severity, “is it possible that you had Berry Searles in your mind when you were so pertinacious about that room?”
“Rose! How can you? You know I never thought of such a thing,” protested poor Mary.
“I hope