What Katy Did Next

  CHAPTER V.

  STORYBOOK ENGLAND.

  "Oh, is it raining?" was Katy's first question next morning, when themaid came to call her. The pretty room, with its gayly flowered chintz,and china, and its brass bedstead, did not look half so bright as whenlit with gas the night before; and a dim gray light struggled in at thewindow, which in America would certainly have meant bad weather comingor already come.

  "Oh no, h'indeed, ma'am, it's a very fine day,--not bright, ma'am, butvery dry," was the answer.

  Katy couldn't imagine what the maid meant, when she peeped between thecurtains and saw a thick dull mist lying over everything, and thepavements opposite her window shining with wet. Afterwards, when sheunderstood better the peculiarities of the English climate, she toolearned to call days not absolutely rainy "fine," and to be grateful forthem; but on that first morning her sensations were of bewilderedsurprise, almost vexation.

  Mrs. Ashe and Amy were waiting in the coffee-room when she went insearch of them.

  "What shall we have for breakfast," asked Mrs. Ashe,--"our first meal inEngland? Katy, you order it."

  "Let's have all the things we have read about in books and don't have athome," said Katy, eagerly. But when she came to look over the bill offare there didn't seem to be many such things. Soles and muffins shefinally decided upon, and, as an after-thought, gooseberry jam.

  "Muffins sound so very good in Dickens, you know," she explained to Mrs.Ashe; "and I never saw a sole."

  The soles when they came proved to be nice little pan-fish, not unlikewhat in New England are called "scup." All the party took kindly tothem; but the muffins were a great disappointment, tough and tasteless,with a flavor about them as of scorched flannel.

  "How queer and disagreeable they are!" said Katy. "I feel as if I wereeating rounds cut from an old ironing-blanket and buttered! Dear me!what did Dickens mean by making such a fuss about them, I wonder? And Idon't care for gooseberry jam, either; it isn't half as good as the jamswe have at home. Books are very deceptive."

  "I am afraid they are. We must make up our minds to find a great manythings not quite so nice as they sound when we read about them," repliedMrs. Ashe.

  Mabel was breakfasting with them, of course, and was heard to remark atthis juncture that she didn't like muffins, either, and would a greatdeal rather have waffles; whereupon Amy reproved her, and explained thatnobody in England knew what waffles were, they were such a stupidnation, and that Mabel must learn to eat whatever was given her and notfind fault with it!

  After this moral lesson it was found to be dangerously near train-time;and they all hurried to the railroad station, which, fortunately, wasclose by. There was rather a scramble and confusion for a few moments;for Katy, who had undertaken to buy the tickets, was puzzled by theunaccustomed coinage; and Mrs. Ashe, whose part was to see after theluggage, found herself perplexed and worried by the absence of checks,and by no means disposed to accept the porter's statement, that if she'donly bear in mind that the trunks were in the second van from theengine, and get out to see that they were safe once or twice during thejourney, and call for them as soon as they reached London, she'd have notrouble,--"please remember the porter, ma'am!" However all was happilysettled at last; and without any serious inconveniences they foundthemselves established in a first-class carriage, and presently afterrunning smoothly at full speed across the rich English midlands towardLondon and the eastern coast.

  The extreme greenness of the October landscape was what struck themfirst, and the wonderfully orderly and trim aspect of the country, withno ragged, stump-dotted fields or reaches of wild untended woods. Latein October as it was, the hedgerows and meadows were still almostsummer-like in color, though the trees were leafless. Thedelightful-looking old manor-houses and farm-houses, of which they hadglimpses now and again, were a constant pleasure to Katy, with theirmullioned windows, twisted chimney-stacks, porches of quaint build, andthick-growing ivy. She contrasted them with the uncompromising uglinessof farm-houses which she remembered at home, and wondered whether itcould be that at the end of another thousand years or so, America wouldhave picturesque buildings like these to show in addition to herpicturesque scenery.

  Suddenly into the midst of these reflections there glanced a picture sovivid that it almost took away her breath, as the train steamed past apack of hounds in full cry, followed by a galloping throng ofscarlet-coated huntsmen. One horse and rider were in the air, going overa wall. Another was just rising to the leap. A string of others, headedby a lady, were tearing across a meadow bounded by a little brook, andbeyond that streamed the hounds following the invisible fox. It was likeone of Muybridge's instantaneous photographs of "The Horse in Motion,"for the moment that it lasted; and Katy put it away in her memory,distinct and brilliant, as she might a real picture.

  Their destination in London was Batt's Hotel in Dover Street. The oldgentleman on the "Spartacus," who had "crossed" so many times, hadfurnished Mrs. Ashe with a number of addresses of hotels andlodging-houses, from among which Katy had chosen Batt's for the reasonthat it was mentioned in Miss Edgeworth's "Patronage." "It was theplace," she explained, "where Godfrey Percy didn't stay when LordOldborough sent him the letter." It seemed an odd enough reason forgoing anywhere that a person in a novel didn't stay there. But Mrs. Asheknew nothing of London, and had no preference of her own; so she wasperfectly willing to give Katy hers, and Batt's was decided upon.

  "It is just like a dream or a story," said Katy, as they drove away fromthe London station in a four-wheeler. "It is really ourselves, and thisis really London! Can you imagine it?"

  She looked out. Nothing met her eyes but dingy weather, muddy streets,long rows of ordinary brick or stone houses. It might very well havebeen New York or Boston on a foggy day, yet to her eyes all things had asubtle difference which made them unlike similar objects at home.

  "Wimpole Street!" she cried suddenly, as she caught sight of the name onthe corner; "that is the street where Maria Crawford in Mansfield Park,you know, 'opened one of the best houses' after she married Mr.Rushworth. Think of seeing Wimpole Street! What fun!" She looked eagerlyout after the "best houses," but the whole street looked uninterestingand old-fashioned; the best house to be seen was not of a kind, Katythought, to reconcile an ambitious young woman to a dull husband. Katyhad to remind herself that Miss Austen wrote her novels nearly a centuryago, that London was a "growing" place, and that things were probablymuch changed since that day.

  More "fun" awaited them when they arrived at Batt's, and exactly such alandlady sailed forth to welcome them as they had often met with inbooks,--an old landlady, smiling and rubicund, with a towering lace capon her head, a flowered silk gown, a gold chain, and a pair of fatmittened hands demurely crossed over a black brocade apron. She alonewould have been worth crossing the ocean to see, they all declared.Their telegram had been received, and rooms were ready, with a bright,smoky fire of soft coals; the dinner-table was set, and a nice, formal,white-cravated old waiter, who seemed to have stepped out of the samebook with the landlady, was waiting to serve it. Everything was dingyand old-fashioned, but very clean and comfortable; and Katy concludedthat on the whole Godfrey Percy would have done wisely to go to Batt's,and could have fared no better at the other hotel where he did stay.

  The first of Katy's "London sights" came to her next morning before shewas out of her bedroom. She heard a bell ring and a queer squeakinglittle voice utter a speech of which she could not make out a singleword. Then came a laugh and a shout, as if several boys were amused atsomething or other; and altogether her curiosity was roused, so that shefinished dressing as fast as she could, and ran to the drawing-roomwindow which commanded a view of the street. Quite a little crowd wascollected under the window, and in their midst was a queer box raisedhigh on poles, with little red curtains tied back on either side to forma miniature stage, on which puppets were moving and vociferating. Katyknew in a moment that she was seeing her first Punch and Judy!

  The box and the crow
d began to move away. Katy in despair ran toWilkins, the old waiter who was setting the breakfast-table.

  "Oh, please stop that man!" she said. "I want to see him."

  "What man is it, Miss?" said Wilkins.

  When he reached the window and realized what Katy meant, his sense ofpropriety seemed to receive a severe shock. He even ventured onremonstrance.

  "H'I wouldn't, Miss, h'if h'I was you. Them Punches are a low lot, Miss;they h'ought to be put down, really they h'ought. Gentlefolks, h'as ageneral thing, pays no h'attention to them."

  But Katy didn't care what "gentlefolks" did or did not do, and insistedupon having Punch called back. So Wilkins was forced to swallow hisremonstrances and his dignity, and go in pursuit of the objectionableobject. Amy came rushing out, with her hair flying and Mabel in herarms; and she and Katy had a real treat of Punch and Judy, with all thewell-known scenes, and perhaps a few new ones thrown in for theirespecial behoof; for the showman seemed to be inspired by the rapturousenjoyment of his little audience of three at the first-floor windows.Punch beat Judy and stole the baby, and Judy banged Punch in return, andthe constable came in and Punch outwitted him, and the hangman and thedevil made their appearance duly; and it was all perfectly satisfactory,and "just exactly what she hoped it would be, and it quite made up forthe muffins," Katy declared.

  Then, when Punch had gone away, the question arose as to what theyshould choose, out of the many delightful things in London, for theirfirst morning.

  Like ninety-nine Americans out of a hundred, they decided on WestminsterAbbey; and indeed there is nothing in England better worth seeing, ormore impressive, in its dim, rich antiquity, to eyes fresh from theworld which still calls itself "new." So to the Abbey they went, andlingered there till Mrs. Ashe declared herself to be absolutely droppingwith fatigue.

  "If you don't take me home and give me something to eat," she said, "Ishall drop down on one of these pedestals and stay there and beexhibited forever after as an 'h'effigy' of somebody belonging toancient English history."

  So Katy tore herself away from Henry the Seventh and the Poets' Corner,and tore Amy away from a quaint little tomb shaped like a cradle, withthe marble image of a baby in it, which had greatly taken her fancy. Shecould only be consoled by the promise that she should soon come againand stay as long as she liked. She reminded Katy of this promise thevery next morning.

  "Mamma has waked up with rather a bad headache, and she thinks shewill lie still and not come to breakfast," she reported. "And shesends her love, and says will you please have a cab and go where youlike; and if I won't be a trouble, she would be glad if you would takeme with you. And I won't be a trouble, Miss Katy, and I know where Iwish you would go."

  "Where is that!"

  "To see that cunning little baby again that we saw yesterday. I want toshow her to Mabel,--she didn't go with us, you know, and I don't like tohave her mind not improved; and, darling Miss Katy, mayn't I buy someflowers and put them on the Baby? She's so dusty and so old that I don'tbelieve anybody has put any flowers for her for ever so long."

  Katy found this idea rather pretty, and willingly stopped at CoventGarden, where they bought a bunch of late roses for eighteen pence,which entirely satisfied Amy. With them in her hand, and Mabel in herarms, she led the way through the dim aisles of the Abbey, throughgrates and doors and up and down steps; the guide following, but not atall needed, for Amy seemed to have a perfectly clear recollection ofevery turn and winding. When the chapel was reached, she laid the roseson the tomb with gentle fingers, and a pitiful, reverent look in hergray eyes. Then she lifted Mabel up to kiss the odd little baby effigyabove the marble quilt; whereupon the guide seemed altogether surprisedout of his composure, and remarked to Katy,--

  "Little Miss is an h'American, as is plain to see; no h'English childwould be likely to think of doing such a thing."

  "Do not English children take any interest in the tombs of the Abbey?"asked Katy.

  "Oh yes, m'm,--h'interest; but they don't take no special notice of onetomb above h'another."

  Katy could scarcely keep from laughing, especially as she heard Amy, whohad been listening to the conversation, give an audible sniff, andinform Mabel that she was glad _she_ was not an English child, whodidn't notice things and liked grown-up graves as much as she did dearlittle cunning ones like this!

  Later in the day, when Mrs. Ashe was better, they all drove together tothe quaint old keep which has been the scene of so many tragedies, andis known as the Tower of London. Here they were shown various rooms andchapels and prisons; and among the rest the apartments where QueenElizabeth, when a friendless young Princess, was shut up for many monthsby her sister, Queen Mary. Katy had read somewhere, and now told Amy,the pretty legend of the four little children who lived with theirparents in the Tower, and used to play with the royal captive; and howone little boy brought her a key which he had picked up on the ground,and said, "Now you can go out when you will, lady;" and how the Lords ofthe Council, getting wind of it, sent for the children to question them,and frightened them and their friends almost to death, and forbade themto go near the Princess again.

  A story about children always brings the past much nearer to a child,and Amy's imagination was so excited by this tale, that when they got tothe darksome closet which is said to have been the prison of Sir WalterRaleigh, she marched out of it with a pale and wrathful face.

  "If this is English history, I never mean to learn any more of it, andneither shall Mabel," she declared.

  But it is not possible for Amy or any one else not to learn a great dealof history simply by going about London. So many places are associatedwith people or events, and seeing the places makes one care so much morefor the people or the events, that one insensibly questions and wonders.Katy, who had "browsed" all through her childhood in a goodold-fashioned library, had her memory stuffed with all manner of littlescraps of information and literary allusions, which now came into use.It was like owning the disjointed bits of a puzzle, and suddenlydiscovering that properly put together they make a pattern. Mrs. Ashe,who had never been much of a reader, considered her young friend aprodigy of intelligence; but Katy herself realized how inadequate andinexact her knowledge was, and how many bits were missing from thepattern of her puzzle. She wished with all her heart, as every onewishes under such circumstances, that she had studied harder and morewisely while the chance was in her power. On a journey you cannot readto advantage. Remember that, dear girls, who are looking forward totravelling some day, and be industrious in time.

  October is not a favorable month in which to see England. Water, wateris everywhere; you breathe it, you absorb it; it wets your clothes andit dampens your spirits. Mrs. Ashe's friends advised her not to think ofScotland at that time of the year. One by one their little intendedexcursions were given up. A single day and night in Oxford andStratford-on-Avon; a short visit to the Isle of Wight, where, in acountry-place which seemed provokingly pretty as far as they could seeit for the rain, lived that friend of Mrs. Ashe who had married anEnglishman and in so doing had, as Katy privately thought, "renouncedthe sun;" a peep at Stonehenge from under the shelter of an umbrella,and an hour or two in Salisbury Cathedral,--was all that theyaccomplished, except a brief halt at Winchester, that Katy might havethe privilege of seeing the grave of her beloved Miss Austen. Katy hadcome abroad with a terribly long list of graves to visit, Mrs. Ashedeclared. They laid a few rain-washed flowers upon the tomb, andlistened with edification to the verger, who inquired,--

  "Whatever was it, ma'am, that lady did which brings so many h'Americansto h'ask about her? Our h'English people don't seem to take the sameh'interest."

  "She wrote such delightful stories," explained Katy; but the old vergershook his head.

  "I think h'it must be some other party, Miss, you've confused with thishere. It stands to reason, Miss, that we'd have heard of 'em h'over 'erein England sooner than you would h'over there in h'America, if the books'ad been h'anything so h'extraordinary."


  The night after their return to London they were dining for the secondtime with the cousins of whom Mrs. Ashe had spoken to Dr. Carr; and asit happened Katy sat next to a quaint elderly American, who had livedfor twenty years in London and knew it much better than most Londonersdo. This gentleman, Mr. Allen Beach, had a hobby for antiquities, oldbooks especially, and passed half his time at the British Museum, andthe other half in sales rooms and the old shops in Wardour Street.

  Katy was lamenting over the bad weather which stood in the way oftheir plans.

  "It is so vexatious," she said. "Mrs. Ashe meant to go to York andLincoln and all the cathedral towns and to Scotland; and we have had togive it all up because of the rains. We shall go away having seen hardlyanything."

  "You can see London."

  "We have,--that is, we have seen the things that everybody sees."

  "But there are so many things that people in general do not see. Howmuch longer are you to stay, Miss Carr?"

  "A week, I believe."

  "Why don't you make out a list of old buildings which are connected withfamous people in history, and visit them in turn? I did that the secondyear after I came. I gave up three months to it, and it was mostinteresting. I unearthed all manner of curious stories and traditions."

  "Or," cried Katy, struck with a sudden bright thought, "why mightn'tI put into the list some of the places I know about in books,--novelsas well as history,--and the places where the people who wrote thebooks lived?"

  "You might do that, and it wouldn't be a bad idea, either," said Mr.Beach, pleased with her enthusiasm. "I will get a pencil after dinnerand help you with your list if you will allow me."

  Mr. Beach was better than his word. He not only suggested places andtraced a plan of sight-seeing, but on two different mornings he wentwith them himself; and his intelligent knowledge of London added verymuch to the interest of the excursions. Under his guidance the littleparty of four--for Mabel was never left out; it was _such_ a chance forher to improve her mind, Amy declared--visited the Charter-House, whereThackeray went to school, and the Home of the Poor Brothers connectedwith it, in which Colonel Newcome answered "Adsum" to the roll-call ofthe angels. They took a look at the small house in Curzon Street, whichis supposed to have been in Thackeray's mind when he described theresidence of Becky Sharpe; and the other house in Russell Square whichis unmistakably that where George Osborne courted Amelia Sedley. Theywent to service in the delightful old church of St. Mary in the Temple,and thought of Ivanhoe and Brian de Bois-Guilbert and Rebecca theJewess. From there Mr. Beach took them to Lamb's Court, where Pendennisand George Warrington dwelt in chambers together; and to Brick Court,where Oliver Goldsmith passed so much of his life, and the little roomsin which Charles and Mary Lamb spent so many sadly happy years. Onanother day they drove to Whitefriars, for the sake of Lord Glenvarlochand the old privilege of Sanctuary in the "Fortunes of Nigel;" and tooka peep at Bethnal Green, where the Blind Beggar and his "Pretty Bessee"lived, and at the old Prison of the Marshalsea, made interesting by itsassociations with "Little Dorrit." They also went to see Milton's houseand St. Giles Church, in which he is buried; and stood a long timebefore St. James Palace, trying to make out which could have been MissBurney's windows when she was dresser to Queen Charlotte of bittermemory. And they saw Paternoster Row and No. 5 Cheyne Walk, sacredforevermore to the memory of Thomas Carlyle, and Whitehall, where QueenElizabeth lay in state and King Charles was beheaded, and the staterooms of Holland House; and by great good luck had a glimpse of GeorgeEliot getting out of a cab. She stood for a moment while she gave herfare to the cabman, and Katy looked as one who might not look again, andcarried away a distinct picture of the unbeautiful, interesting,remarkable face.

  With all this to see and to do, the last week sped all too swiftly, andthe last day came before they were at all ready to leave what Katycalled "Story-book England." Mrs. Ashe had decided to cross by Newhavenand Dieppe, because some one had told her of the beautiful old town ofRouen, and it seemed easy and convenient to take it on the way to Paris.Just landed from the long voyage across the Atlantic, the little passageof the Channel seemed nothing to our travellers, and they made ready fortheir night on the Dieppe steamer with the philosophy which is born ofignorance. They were speedily undeceived!

  The English Channel has a character of its own, which distinguishes itfrom other seas and straits. It seems made fractious and difficult byNature, and set as on purpose to be barrier between two nations who aretoo unlike to easily understand each other, and are the safer neighborsfor this wholesome difficulty of communication between them. The "chop"was worse than usual on the night when our travellers crossed; thesteamer had to fight her way inch by inch. And oh, such a littlesteamer! and oh, such a long night!