What Katy Did at School

by Susan Coolidge

BY-LAW NO. 1.

The members of the S. S. U. C. will observe the following signals:—

1st. The Grip.—This is given by inserting the first and middle finger of the right hand between the thumb and fourth finger of the respondent's left, and describing a rotatory motion in the air with the little finger. N. B. Much practice is necessary to enable members to exchange this signal in such a manner as not to attract attention.

2nd. The Signal of Danger.—This signal is for use when Miss Jane,
or any other foe-woman, heaves into sight. It consists in
rubbing the nose violently, and at the same time giving three
stamps on the floor with the left foot. It must be done with
an air of unconsciousness.

3rd. The Signal for Consultation.—This signal is for use when
immediate communication is requisite between members of the
Society. It consists of a pinch on the back of the right
hand, accompanied by the word "Holofernes" pronounced in a
low voice.

BY-LAW NO. 2.

The members of the S. S. U. C. pledge themselves to inviolable secrecy about all Society proceedings.

BY-LAW NO. 3

The members of the S. S. U. C. will bring their Saturday corn- balls to swell the common entertainment.

BY-LAW NO. 4.

Members having boxes from home are at liberty to contribute such part of the contents as they please to the aforementioned common entertainment.

Here the By-Laws ended. There was much laughter over them, especially over the last.

"Why did you put that in, Rosy?" asked Ellen Gray: "it strikes me as hardly necessary."

"Oh," replied Rose, "I put that in to encourage Silvery Mary there. She's expecting a box soon, and I knew that she would pine to give the Society a share, but would be too timid to propose it; so I thought I would just pave the way."

"How truly kind!" laughed Clover.

"Now," said the President, "the entertainment of the meeting will begin by the reading of 'Trailing Arbutus,' a poem by C. E. C."

Clover had been very unwilling to read the first piece, and had only yielded after much coaxing from Rose, who had bestowed upon her in consequence the name of Quintia Curtia. She felt very shy as she stood up with her paper in hand, and her voice trembled perceptibly; but after a minute she grew used to the sound of it, and read steadily.

TRAILING ARBUTUS.

I always think, when looking
At its mingled rose and white,
Of the pink lips of children
Put up to say good-night.

Cuddled its green leaves under,
Like babies in their beds,
Its blossoms shy and sunny
Conceal their pretty heads.

And when I lift the blanket up,
And peep inside of it,
They seem to give me smile for smile,
Nor be afraid a bit.

Dear little flower, the earliest
Of all the flowers that are;
Twinkling upon the bare, brown earth,
As on the clouds a star.

How can we fail to love it well,
Or prize it more and more!
It is the first small signal
That winter time is o'er;

That spring has not forgotten us,
Though late and slow she be,
But is upon her flying way,
And we her face shall see.

This production caused quite a sensation among the girls. They had never heard any of Clover's verses before, and thought these wonderful.

"Why!" cried Sally Alsop, "it is almost as good as Tupper!" Sally meant this for a great compliment, for she was devoted to the "Proverbial Philosophy."

"A Poem by E.D." was the next thing on the list. Esther Dearborn rose with great pomp and dignity, cleared her throat, put on a pair of eye- glasses, and began.

MISS JANE.

Who ran to catch me on the spot,
If I the slightest rule forgot,
Believing and excusing not?
Miss Jane.

Who lurked outside my door all day
In hopes that I would disobey,
And some low whispered word would say?
Miss Jane.

Who caught our Rose-bud half way through
The wall which parted her from two
Friends, and that small prank made her rue?
Miss Jane.

Who is our bane, our foe, our fear?
Who's always certain to appear
Just when we do not think her near?
Miss Jane.

—"Who down the hall is creeping now
With stealthy step, but knowing not how
Exactly to discover"—

broke in Rose, improvising rapidly. Next moment came a knock at the door. It was Miss Jane.

"Your drawers, Miss Carr,—your cupboard,"—she said, going across the room and examining each in turn. There was no fault to be found with either, so she withdrew, giving the laughing girls a suspicious glance, and remarking that it was a bad habit to sit on beds,—it always injured them.

"Do you suppose she heard?" whispered Mary Silver.

"No, I don't think she did," replied Rose. "Of course she suspected us of being in some mischief or other,—she always does that. Now, Mary, it's you turn to give us an intellectual treat. Begin."

Poor Mary shrank back, blushing and protesting.

"You know I can't," she said, "I'm too stupid."

"Rubbish!" cried Rose, "You're the dearest girl that ever was." She gave Mary's shoulder a reassuring pat.

"Mary is excused this time," put in Katy. "It is the first meeting, so I shall be indulgent. But, after this, every member will be expected to contribute something for each meeting. I mean to be very strict."

"Oh, I never, never can!" cried Mary. Rose was down on her at once. "Nonsense! hush!" she said. "Of course you can. You shall, if I have to write it for you myself!"

"Order!" said the President, rapping on the table with a pencil.
"Rose has something to read us."

Rose stood up with great gravity. "I would ask for a moment's delay, that the Society may get out its pocket-handkerchiefs," she said. "My piece is an affecting one. I didn't mean it, but it came so. We cannot always be cheerful." Here she heaved a sigh, which set the S. S. U. C. to laughing, and began.

A SCOTCH POEM.

Wee, crimson-tippet Willie Wink,
Wae's me, drear, dree, and dra,
A waeful thocht, a fearsome flea,
A wuther wind, and a'.

Sair, sair thy mither sabs her lane,
Her een, her mou, are wat;
Her cauld kail hae the corbies ta'en,
And grievously she grat.

Ah, me, the suthering of the wind!
Ah, me, the waesom mither!
Ah, me the bairnies left ahind,
The shither, hither, blither!

"What does it mean?" cried the girls, as Rose folded up the paper and sat down.

"Mean?" said Rose, "I'm sure I don't know. It's Scotch, I tell you! It's the kind of thing that people read, and then they say, 'One of the loveliest gems that Burns ever wrote!' I thought I'd see if I couldn't do one too. Anybody can, I find: it's not at all difficult."

All the poems having been read, Katy now proposed that they should play "Word and Question." She and Clover were accustomed to the game at home, but to some of the others it was quite new.

Each girl was furnished with a slip of paper and a pencil, and was told to write a word at the top of the paper, fold it over, and pass it to her next left-hand neighbor.

"Dear me! I don't know what to write," said Mary Silver.

"Oh, write any thing," said Clover. So Mary obediently wrote "Any thing," and folded it over.

"What next?" asked Alice Gibbons.

"Now a question," said Katy. "Write it under the word, and fold over again. No, Amy, not on the fold. Don't you see, if you do, the writing will be on the wrong side of the paper when we come to read?"

The questions were more troublesome than the words, and the girls sat frowning and biting their pencil-tops for some minutes before all were done. As the slips were handed in, Katy dropped them into the lid of her work-basket, and thoroughly mixed and stirred them up.

"Now," she said, passing it about, "each draw one, read, and write a rhyme in which the word is introduced and the question answered. It needn't be more than two lines, unless you like. Here, Rose, it's your turn first."

"Oh, what a hard game!" cried some of the girls; but pretty soon they grew interested, and began to work over their verses.

"I should uncommonly like to know who wrote this abominable word," said Rose, in a tone of despair. "Clover, you rascal, I believe it was you."

Clover peeped over her shoulder, nodded, and laughed.

"Very well then!" snatching up Clover's slip, and putting her own in its place, "you can just write on it yourself,—I shan't! I never heard of such a word in my life! You made it up for the occasion, you know you did!"

"I didn't! it's in the Bible," replied Clover, setting to work composedly on the fresh paper. But when Rose opened Clover's slip she groaned again.

"It's just as bad as the other!" she cried. "Do change back again,
Clovy,—that's a dear."

"No, indeed!" said Clover, guarding her paper: "you've changed once, and now you must keep what you have."

Rose made a face, chewed her pencil awhile, and then began to write rapidly. For some minutes not a word was spoken.

"I've done!" said Esther Dearborn at last, flinging her paper into the basket-lid.

"So have I!" said Katy.

One by one the papers were collected and jumbled into a heap. Then
Katy, giving all a final shake, drew out one, opened it, and read.

WORD.—Radishes.
QUESTION.—How do you like your clergymen done?

How do I like them done? Well, that depends.
I like them done on sleepy, drowsy Sundays;
I like them under-done on other days;
Perhaps a little over-done on Mondays.
But always I prefer them old as pa,
And not like radishes, all red and raw.

"Oh, what a rhyme! cried Clover.

"Well,—what is one to do?" said Ellen Gray. Then she stopped and bit her lip, remembering that no one was supposed to know who wrote the separate papers.

"Aha! it's your, is it, Ellen?" said Rose. "You're an awfully clever girl, and an ornament to the S. S. U. C. Go on, Katy."

Katy opened the second slip.

WORD.—Anything.
QUESTION.—Would you rather be a greater fool than you seem, or seem
a greater fool than you are?

I wouldn't seem a fool for anything, my dear,
If I could help it; but I can't, I fear.

"Not bad," said Rose, nodding her head at Sally Alsop, who blushed crimson.

The third paper ran,—

WORD.—Mahershahalhashbaz.
QUESTION.—Does your mother know you're out?

Rose and Clover exchanged looks.

Why, of course my mother knows it,
For she sent me out herself.
She told me to run quickly, for
It wasn't but a mile;
But I found it was much farther,
And my feet grew tired and weary,
And I couldn't hurry greatly,
So I took a long, long while.
Beside, I stopped to read your word,
A stranger one I never heard!
I've met with Pa-pistical,
That's pat;
But _Ma-hershahalhashbaz,
What's that?

"Oh, Clovy, you bright little thing!" cried Rose, in fits of laughter.
But Mary Silver looked quite pale.

"I never heard of any thing so awful!" she said. "If that word had come to me, I should have fainted away on the spot,—I know I should!"

Next came—

WORD.—Buttons.
QUESTION.—What is the best way to make home happy?

To me 'tis quite clear I can answer this right:
Sew on the buttons, and sew them on tight.

"I suspect that is Amy's," said Esther: "she's such a model for mending and keeping things in order."

"It's not fair, guessing aloud in this way," said Sally Alsop. Sally always spoke for Amy, and Amy for Sally. "Voice and Echo" Rose called them: only, as she remarked, nobody could tell which was Echo and which Voice.

The next word was "Mrs. Nipson," and the question, "Do you like flowers?"

Do I like flowers? I will not write a sonnet,
Singing their beauty as a poet might do:
I just detest those on Aunt Nipson's bonnet,
Because they are like her,—all gray and blue,
Dusty and pinched, and fastened on askew!
And as for heaven's own buttercups and daisies,
I am not good enough to sing their praises.

Nobody knew who wrote this verse. Katy suspected Louisa, and Rose suspected Katy.

The sixth slip was a very brief one.

WORD.—When?
QUESTION.—Are you willing?

If I wasn't willing, I would tell you;
But when— Oh, dear, I can't!

"What an extraordinary rhyme!" began Clover, but Rose spied poor Mary blushing and looking distressed, and hastily interposed,—

"It's very good, I'm sure. I wish I'd written it. Go on, Katy."

So Katy went on.

WORD.—Unfeeling.
QUESTION.—Which would you rather do, or go fishing?

I don't feel up to fishing or such;
And so, if you please, I'd rather do—which?

"I don't seem to see the word in that poem," said Rose. "The distinguished author will please write another."

"The distinguished author" made no reply to this suggestion; but, after a minute or two, Esther Dearborn, "quite disinterestedly," as she stated, remarked that, after all, to "don't feel" was pretty much the same as unfeeling. There was a little chorus of groans at this, and Katy said she should certainly impose a fine if such dodges and evasions were practised again. This was the first meeting, however, and she would be merciful. After this speech she unfolded another paper. It ran,—

WORD.—Flea.
QUESTION.—What would you do, love?

What would I do, love? Well, I do not know.
How can I tell till you are more explicit?
If 'twere a rose you held me, I would smell it;
If 'twere a mouth you held me, I would kiss it;
If 'twere a frog, I'd scream than furies louder'
If 'twere a flea, I'd fetch the Lyons Powder.

Only two slips remained. One was Katy's own. She knew it by the way in which it was folded, and had almost instinctively avoided and left it for the last. Now, however, she took courage and opened it. The word was "Measles," and the question, "Who was the grandmother of Invention?" These were the lines:—

The night was horribly dark,
The measles broke out in the Ark:
Little Japher, and Shem, and all the young Hams,
Were screaming at once for potatoes and clams.
And "What shall I do," said poor Mrs. Noah,
"All alone by myself in this terrible shower:
I know what I'll do: I'll step down in the hold,
And wake up a lioness grim and old,
And tie her close to the children's door,
And giver her a ginger-cake to roar
At the top of her voice for an hour or more;
And I'll tell the children to cease their din,
Or I'll let that grim old party in,
To stop their squeazles and likewise their measles."—
She practised this with the greatest success.
She was every one's grandmother, I guess.

"That's much the best of all!" pronounced Alice Gibbons. "I wonder who wrote it?"

"Dear me! did you like it so much?" said Rose, simpering, and doing her best to blush.

"Did you really write it?" said Mary; but Louisa laughed, and exclaimed, "No use, Rosy! you can't take us in,—we know better!"

"Now for the last," said Katy. "The word is 'Buckwheat,' and the question, 'What is the origin of dreams?'"

When the nuns are sweetly sleeping,
Mrs. Nipson comes a-creeping,
Creeping like a kitty-cat from door to door;
And she listens to their slumbers,
And most carefully she numbers,
Counting for every nun a nunlet snore!
And the nuns in sweet forgetfulness who lie,
Dreaming of buckwheat cakes, parental love, and—pie;
Moan softly, twist and turn, and see
Black cats and fiends, who frolic in their glee;
And nightmares prancing wildly do abound
While Mrs. Nipson makes her nightly round.

"Who did write that?" exclaimed Rose. Nobody answered. The girls looked at each other, and Rose scrutinized them all with sharp glances.

"Well! I never saw such creatures for keeping their countenances," she said. "Somebody is as bold as brass. Didn't you see how I blushed when my piece was read?"

"You monkey!" whispered Clover, who at that moment caught sight of the handwriting on the paper. Rose gave her a warning pinch, and the both subsided into an unseen giggle.

"What! The tea-bell!" cried everybody. "We wanted to play another game."

"It's a complete success!" whispered Rose, ecstatically, as they went down the hall. "The girls all say they never had such a good time in their lives. I'm so glad I didn't die with the measles when I was little!"

"Well," demanded Lilly, "so the high and mighty Society has had a meeting! How did it go off?"

"_De_licious!" replied Rose, smacking her lips as at the recollection of something very nice. "But you mustn't ask any questions, Lilly. Outsiders have nothing to do with the S. S. U. C. Our proceedings are strictly private." She ran downstairs with Katy.

"I think you're real mean!" called Lilly after them. Then she said to herself, "They're just trying to tease. I know it was stupid."