What Katy Did 1 - Bedtime Story

What Katy Did is an 1872 children's book written by Sarah Chauncey Woolsey under her pen name "Susan Coolidge". It follows the adventures of a twelve-year-old American girl Katy Carr, and her family who live in the fictional lakeside Ohio town of Burnet in the 1860s.

In this Episode we meet Katy and her siblings. Katy has every intention of being to be as sweet as an angel. But for now her hair is in a tangle, her dress is torn and she's always getting in mischief.

Transcript

You're listening to S.

D.

Hudson Magic What Katie Did by Susan Coolidge This story follows the adventures of a 12-year-old American girl,

Katie Carr,

And her family who live in the fictional lakeside Ohio town of Burnett in the 1860s.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Happy listening.

Chapter 1 I was sitting in the meadows one day,

Not long ago,

At a place where there was a small brook.

It was a hot day.

The sky was very blue and white clouds like great swans went floating over it to and fro.

Just opposite me was a clump of green rushes,

With dark velvety spikes,

And among them one single tall red cardinal flower which was bending over the brook as if to see its own beautiful face in the water,

But the cardinal did not seem to be vain.

The picture was so pretty I sat a long time enjoying it.

Suddenly,

Close to me,

Two small voices began to talk,

Or to sing,

For I couldn't really tell exactly which it was.

One voice was shrill,

The other,

Which was a little deeper,

Sounded very positive and cross.

They were evidently disputing about something,

For they said the same words over and over again.

These were the words,

Katie did,

Katie didn't,

She did,

She didn't,

She did,

She didn't,

Did,

Didn't.

I think they must have repeated them at least a hundred times.

I got from my seat to see if I could find the speakers,

And sure enough,

There on one of the cat's tail bulrushes,

I spied two tiny pale green creatures.

Their eyes seemed to be weak,

For they both wore black goggles.

They had six legs apiece,

Two short ones,

Two not so short,

And two very long.

These last legs had joints like the springs to buggy tops,

And as I watched,

They began walking up the rush,

And then I saw they moved exactly like an old-fashioned gig.

In fact,

If I hadn't been too big,

I think I should have heard them creak as they went along.

They didn't say anything so long as I was there,

But the moment my back was turned,

They began to quarrel again,

And in the same old words,

Katie did,

Didn't,

She did,

She didn't.

As I walked home,

I felt a thinking about another Katie,

A Katie I once knew,

Who planned to do a great many wonderful things,

And in the end did none of them,

But something quite different.

Something she didn't like at all at first,

But which on the whole was a great deal better than any of the doings she had dreamed about.

And as I thought,

This story grew in my head,

And I resolved to write it down for you.

I have done it,

And in memory of my two little friends on the ballrush,

I give it their name.

Here it is.

The story of what Katie did.

Katie's name was Katie Carr.

She lived in the town of Burnett,

Which wasn't a very big town,

But it was growing as fast as it knew how.

The house she lived in stood on the edge of town.

It was a large square house,

White with green blinds,

And had a porch in front,

Over which roses and clematis made a thick bower.

Four tall locust trees shaded the gravel path,

Which led to the front gate.

On one side of the house was an orchard.

On the other side were wood piles and barns,

And an ice house.

Behind was a kitchen garden sloping to the south,

And behind that,

A pasture with a brook in it and butternut trees,

And four cows,

Two red ones,

A yellow one with sharp horns tipped with tin,

And a dear little white one named Daisy.

There were six of the Carr children,

Four girls and two boys.

Katie,

The eldest,

Was twelve years old,

Little Phil,

The youngest,

Was four,

And the rest fitted in between.

Dr Carr,

Their papa,

Was a dear,

Kind,

Busy man who was away from home all day,

And sometimes all night too,

Taking care of sick people.

The children hadn't any mama.

She had died when Phil was a baby,

Four years before my story began.

Katie could remember her pretty well.

To the rest she was but a sad,

Sweet name spoken on Sunday and at prayer times,

Or when papa was specially gentle and solemn.

In place of this mama,

Whom they recollected so dimly,

There was Aunt Lizzie,

Papa's sister,

Who came to take care of them when mama went away on that long journey,

From which for so many months the little ones kept hoping she might return.

Aunt Lizzie was a small woman,

Sharp-faced and thin,

Rather odd-looking and very neat and particular about everything.

She meant to be kind to the children,

But they puzzled her much because they were not a bit like herself when she was a child.

Aunt Lizzie had been a gentle,

Tidy little thing who loved to sit,

As Curly Locks did,

Sewing long seams in the parlour,

And to have her head patted by older people and be told she was a good girl,

Whereas Katie tore her dress every day,

Hated sewing and didn't care a button about being called good,

While Clover and Elsie shied off like restless ponies when anyone tried to pat their heads.

It was very perplexing to Aunt Lizzie,

And she found it quite hard to forgive the children for being so unaccountable,

And so little like the good boys and girls in Sunday school memoirs,

Who were the young people she liked best and understood most about.

Then Dr Carr was another person who worried her.

He wished to have the children hardy and bold,

And encouraged climbing and rough plays in spite of the bumps and ragged clothes which resulted.

In fact,

There was just one half hour of the day when Aunt Lizzie was really satisfied about her charges,

And that was the half hour before breakfast,

When she made a law that they were all to sit in their little chairs and learn the Bible verse for the day.

At this time she looked at them with pleased eyes.

They were also spic and span,

With such nicely brushed jackets and such neatly combed hair.

But the moment the bell rang,

Her comfort was over.

From that time on they were what she called,

Not fit to be seen.

The neighbours pitied her very much.

They used to count the sixty stiff white pantalette legs hung out to dry every Monday morning,

And see to each other what a sight of washing those children made,

And what a labour it must be for poor Miss Carr to keep them so nice.

But poor Miss Carr didn't think them at all nice.

That was the worst of it.

Clover,

Go upstairs and wash your hands.

Dory,

Pick your hat off the floor and hang it on the nail.

Not that nail,

The third nail from the corner.

These were the kind of things Aunt Izzy was saying all day long.

The children minded her pretty well,

But they didn't exactly love her,

I fear.

They called her Aunt Izzy always,

Never Aunty.

Boys and girls will know what that meant.

I want to show you the little cars,

And I don't know that I could ever have a better chance than one day when five out of six were perched on the top of the ice house like chickens on a roost.

This ice house was one of their favourite places.

It was only a low roof set over a hole in the ground,

And as it stood in the middle of the side yard,

It always seemed to the children that the shortest road to every place was up one of its slopes and down the other.

They also liked to mount to the ridge pole,

And then,

Still keeping up the sitting position,

To let go,

And scrape slowly down over the warm shingles to the ground.

It was bad for their shoes and trousers,

Of course,

But what of that?

Shoes and trousers,

And clothes generally,

Were Aunty Izzy's affair.

Theirs was to slide and enjoy themselves.

Clover,

Next in age to Katie,

Sat in the middle.

She was a fair sweet dumpling of a girl with thick pigtails of light brown hair and short-sighted blue eyes,

Which seemed to hold tears just ready to fall from under the blue.

Really Clover was the jolliest little thing in the world,

But these eyes and her soft cooing voice always made people feel like petting her and taking her part.

Once when she was very small,

She ran away with Katie's doll,

And when Katie pursued and tried to take it from her,

Clover held fast and would not let go.

Doctor Carr,

Who wasn't attending particularly,

Heard nothing but the pathetic tone of Clover's voice as she said,

Me won't,

Me won't dolly.

And without stopping to enquire,

He called out sharply,

For shame,

Katie,

Give your sister her doll at once.

Which Katie,

Much surprised,

Did,

While Clover purred in triumph like a satisfied kitten.

Clover was sunny and sweet-tempered,

A little indolent and very modest about herself,

Though in fact she was particularly clever in all sorts of games and extremely drawn on funny in a quiet way.

Everybody loved her and she loved everybody,

Especially Katie,

Whom she looked up to as one of the wisest people in the world.

Pretty little Phil sat next on the roof to Clover and she held him tight with her arm.

Then came Elsie,

A thin brown child of eight,

With beautiful dark eyes and crisp short curls covering the whole of her small head.

Poor little Elsie was the odd one among the Carrs.

She didn't seem to belong exactly to either the older or the younger children.

The great desire and ambition of her heart was to be allowed to go about with Katie and Clover in Cessie Hall and to know their secrets and be permitted to put notes into the little post offices they were forever establishing in all sorts of hidden places.

But they didn't want Elsie and used to tell her to run away and play with the children,

Which hurt her feelings very much.

When she wouldn't run away,

I'm sorry to say they ran away from her,

Which as their legs were longer,

It was easy to do.

Poor Elsie,

Left behind,

Would cry bitter tears and as she was too proud to play much with Dory and John,

Her principal comfort was tracking the older ones about and discovering their mysteries,

Especially the post offices,

Which were her greatest grievance.

Her eyes were bright and quick as a bird's.

She would peep and peer and follow and watch till at last,

In some odd unlikely place,

The crotch of a tree,

The middle of an asparagus bed,

Or perhaps on the very top of the step of the scuttle ladder.

She spied the little paper box with its load of notes all ending with,

Be sure not let Elsie know.

Then she would seize the box and marching up to wherever the others were,

She would throw it down,

Saying defiantly,

There's your old post office!

But feeling all the time just like crying.

Poor little Elsie.

In most every large family there is one of these unmated left out children.

Katie,

Who had the finest plans in the world for being heroic,

And of use never saw,

As she drifted on her heedless way,

That there in this lonely sister was the very chance she wanted for being a comfort to somebody who needed comfort very much.

She never saw it and Elsie's heavy heart went uncheered.

Dory and Joanna sat on the two ends of the ridgepole.

Dory was six years old,

A pale pudgy boy with rather a solemn face and smears of molasses on the sleeve of his jacket.

Joanna,

Whom the children called John and Johnny,

Was a square splendid child,

A year younger than Dory.

She had big grave eyes and a wise rosy mouth,

Which always looked ready to laugh.

These two were great friends,

Although Dory seemed like a girl who had got into boys clothes by mistake,

And Johnny like a boy who,

In a fit of fun,

Had borrowed his sister's frock.

And now as they all sat there chatting and giggling,

The window above opened,

A glad shriek was heard,

And Katie's head appeared.

In her hand she held a heap of stockings,

Which she waved triumphantly.

Hooray!

She cried,

All done,

And Aunt Izzie says we may go.

Are you tired of waiting?

I couldn't help it,

The halls were so big and it took so long.

Hurry up Clover and get the things,

Ceci and I'll be down in a minute.

The children jumped up gladly and slid down the roof.

Clover fetched a couple of baskets from the woodshed.

Elsie ran for her kitten.

Dory and John loaded themselves with two great faggots of green boughs.

Just as they were ready,

The side door banged and Katie and Ceci Hall came into the yard.

I must tell you about Ceci.

She was a great friend of the children's and lived in a house next door.

The yards of the houses were only separated by a green hedge,

With no gate,

So that Ceci spent two thirds of her time at Dr Carr's and was exactly like one of the family.

She was a neat,

Dapper,

Pink and white girl,

Modest and prim in manner,

With light shiny hair which always kept smooth,

And slim hands which never looked dirty.

How different from my poor Katie.

Katie's hair was forever in a tangle,

Her gowns were always catching on nails and tearing themselves,

And in spite of her age and size,

She was as heedless and innocent as a child of six.

Katie was the longest girl that was ever seen.

What she did to make herself grow so,

Nobody could tell,

But there she was,

Up above Papa's ear and half a head taller than poor Aunt Izzy.

Whenever she stopped to think about her height,

She became very awkward and felt as if she were all legs and elbows and ankles and joints.

Happily,

Her head was so full of other things,

Of plans and schemes and fancies of all sorts,

That she didn't often take time to remember how tall she was.

She was a dear,

Loving child,

For all her careless habits,

And made bushels of good resolutions every week of her life,

Only unluckily she never kept any of them.

She had fits of responsibility about the other children,

And longed to set them a good example,

But when the chance came,

She generally forgot to do so.

Katie's days flew like the wind,

For when she wasn't studying lessons or sewing and darning with Aunt Izzy,

Which she hated extremely,

There were always so many delightful schemes writing in her brains,

That all she wished for was ten pairs of hands to carry them out.

These same active brains got her into perpetual scrapes.

She was fond of building castles in the air,

And dreaming of the time when something she had done would make her famous,

So that everybody would hear of her and want to know her.

I don't think she'd made up her mind what this wonderful thing was to be,

But while thinking about it,

She often forgot to learn a lesson or lace her boots,

And then she had a bad mark or a scolding from Aunt Izzy.

At such times she consoled herself with planning how,

By and by,

She would be beautiful and loved and amiable as an angel.

A great deal was to happen to Katie before that time came.

Her eyes,

Which were black,

Were to turn blue,

Her nose was to lengthen and straighten,

And her mouth,

Quite too large at present to suit the part of a heroine,

Was to be made over into a sort of rosy button.

In the meantime,

And until these charming changes should take place,

Katie forgot her features as much as she could,

Though still,

I think,

The person on earth whom she most envied was that lady on the big posters with the wonderful hair which sweeps the ground.

I hope you enjoyed this episode.

If you did,

Please consider following me to hear more.

Reviews

Hello Stephanie, good to hear from you. Thanks for Katy's story Chapter 1.😘👌 Looking forward to more. Oliver Twist springs to mind 😃🌻🐱🐱🐨

Hi Stephanie It has been awhile since I have listened to one of your stories, this was very pleasant, really relaxed me before slumber. Looking forward to more of Katy's adventures,
Lovely hearing your voice once more. Thank you 🤗🦋