“It’s Katy,” cried Jane, jumping up and down for joy. “It’s Katy. It’s Katherine Pelt.”
The car stopped in the back yard and Billy took Katherine’s suitcase and Janie gave her a quick hug.
Katy was well liked by the Murray children. She was a little older than Janie, small, slim, and dark. The youngest child in a family of six, she was what Daddy called “well socialized.” She was quiet without being shy, jolly without being boisterous, and she never made a nuisance of herself.
“What in the world do you have in that big package?” asked Janie. Katy smiled. “A chicken,” she said. “From my mother to your mother.”
“Hurray!” cried Billy, and David and James began to chant:
“Katy brought a chick-en,
Katy brought a chick-en.”
The little procession came down through the rock garden to the cottage porch. Aunt Claire was amazed to hear about Mrs. Saunders’ purse and she was eager to tell Grandma and Mom all that she had seen and heard in town. Jane took Katy to her room, and then they raced for the bathhouse to get into their swimming suits. Daddy and the boys came swimming too, and the boys all but stood on their heads in order to impress the visitor. Mom and Aunt Claire came out to the raft and there was a lot of shouting and leaping and calling back and forth.
Janie rested by floating on her back. Swimming in the same lake with the boys was enough to make any one want to rest. They were like seals, in and out constantly, diving, splashing and churning the water to a froth with their antics. Billy dove and swam as effortlessly as a fish. Angular James cut through the water swiftly, but his diving wasn’t as accomplished as that of his older brother. Davey was the prize. He still swam “dog-fashion,” and panting and dripping he would wriggle his way up on the raft and shout: “Watch me, fellows! I’m going to jump off.” He would close his eyes, grasp his nose with one hand, and then lifting the other arm high over his head and flexing his knees he would give a mighty leap into the air and land with a splash that would all but take his breath away. One or two performances of that kind would exhaust a grown person, but not Davey. He would leap in and out of the water for an hour at a time, and then say, “Do I hafta?” when it came time for them to go in.
Katy and Jane slept in the big double bed in the corner bedroom that night. There was so much to talk about. Katy had just returned from a trip through New England and when she described the Witch House at Salem, Janie held her breath and shivered.