Harper's Young People, March 16, 1880 Part 4

"But I do feel a little discouraged," said Mr. Kennedy. "You see, she is so uncertain; she's tricky as a kitten, and you can never tell what she'll be at next. If the trouble only all came to us, you know, we would be glad to bear it, for there is something very dear about little Katy that pays for care and bother. But how can I go on asking our friends to put up with such a little harum-scarum? And she _will_ take things that don't belong to her, and she will deny it. I really don't know what to do."

Biddy sat sewing, but she listened, and looked very earnest. Miss Kennedy smiled.

"I've thought of something, Phil," said she. "I think we have been making a mistake all along in fixing things too easy and pleasant for Katy. I think she needs to have a weight put on her."

"A weight? How do you mean?"

"Well, I mean this. Katy is very loving, and she is more full of active, bounding life than any one I ever saw. I don't think she wants to have things done for her; I think she wants to do things herself. I think she needs to feel that some one, in some real plain way, depends on her, needs her, so that she can not do without her. I have seen feelings in Katy that make me think a weight of this kind would hold her."

Mr. Kennedy looked pleased, and sat some moments thinking. Then he asked: "Well, sister, how will you find such a weight for Katy? I wouldn't like to have her bright wings too closely clipped."

"I've thought of that, Phil, and I've thought it would be well to let Biddy--Katy loves Biddy with all her warm little heart--to let Biddy coax her to go to Mrs. Raynor."

"Mrs. Raynor!" cried Phil.

"I know you are thinking of such a madcap as Katy in Jenny Baynor's sick-room. But that is just my reason. I've talked with Mrs. Raynor, and she is quite willing to try Katy, if we can only get her there to be tried. If there's any one in this world who can tame Katy's wild humors and turn them to good uses, it is Mrs. Raynor. And Jenny needs some one to care for her all the time. Katy can not help loving them, and between them I think they will find a way to hold Katy till she grows to see what a little girl's life means."

The very next day Biddy went out to look for wayward Katy, for it was Katy's having run away again from her third home which had led to this talk between Mr. Kennedy and his sister. Biddy found Katy sitting on some steps on Fulton Street, eating pea-nuts, and tossing up the sh.e.l.ls.

She looked so happy that Biddy felt a new wonder about her. She remembered how she had longed for a home, and here was Katy liking nothing so well as to run about the streets, and seeming to think home was a great bother. Suddenly a thought came to Biddy, and made her say, quickly, as she reached Katy, "Oh, Katy, did you ever have a doll?"

"Hallo! that you?" said Katy. "Want some pea-nuts? No, I never had no dawl--don't want no dawl--seen lots of 'em--think they're silly. Dawls is only pretendin'--Hallo! catch 'em;" and she tossed a handful of pea-nuts to Biddy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "BIDDY SAT DOWN ON THE STEPS BY KATY."]

Biddy sat down on the steps by Katy, and told her as kindly as she could that she wanted her to try once more to like a good home. She held a bit of Katy's skirt in her hand, for fear Katy would run; but she did not think Katy knew she had hold of her dress, till Katy said, "No need to hold on to me--ain't goin' to run."

"Oh, Katy, what have you done with your pretty shoes?" exclaimed Biddy.

"Guv 'em to gal 'at wanted 'em--likes to go barefoot," said Katy, promptly; then she turned her black eyes on Biddy with a queer, sharp look, and said, "Needn't ask no more queshshuns--sha'n't answer."

After a little more talk, in which Katy insisted that she didn't think she could stay in a home, though she was willin' to try, 'cause she liked to see insides of houses, they started off together.

The Raynors lived in a larger and more beautiful house than the Kennedys, and a well-behaved maid showed the children into a room which was so dark that Biddy and Katy could hardly see anything at first.

Biddy felt Katy twitch at her hand as if she would dart off and rush out into the merry sunlight again. All the way up stairs Katy had been making droll faces at the maid, who went on before them, and mimicking her walk in the funniest manner. Biddy had not seemed to notice, though she had found it hard not to laugh right out at Katy's mischief. Now Biddy held fast to the little hand that wriggled in hers, and as their eyes grew used to the dimness, they saw a large bed with folds of lace hanging around, but drawn away at the sides, and in this bed lay the whitest little girl they had ever seen, with soft eyes looking at them kindly, and close to them was a tall, handsome lady. But what ailed Biddy?

She looked at the white-faced child in the bed, and she looked at the lady. A flush came in Biddy's cheek, and her eyes opened so wide they were almost as round as marbles. It was the most puzzled little face Mrs. Raynor had ever seen.

"I expected you, and I'm very glad to see you," said she.

In an instant Biddy turned and threw her arms around Katy, who stared, and looked as if she would "cut," as she called it when she ran away.

"Oh, Katy! Katy!" said Biddy, with a queer little quick shake in her voice, "it's the hospital lady, and the hospital little girl that gave me the flowers!" Jenny Raynor's eyes were getting to be as round as Biddy's had been. "Oh, don't you remember the little bit of a girl that was run over, and lay in the hospital on Christmas-day, ever and ever so long ago?" cried Biddy.

Biddy stopped, as had always been her way when feeling became very strong. Mrs. Raynor made her sit down by the bed, and then put out her hand to Katy, who stood so still in the centre of the room. All the bright color had gone out of Katy's cheeks, so that her black eyes looked darker than ever. She staid just where she was, she put her hands down in her ap.r.o.n pockets, raising her small shoulders in doing so. She was the picture of a little elf that might vanish if any one stirred.

She looked at Biddy, and said, "Is that gal in the bed the hospital gal what guv ye the flowers?"

Biddy said, "Yes."

"What's matter of 'er?"

"She has been sick a long time," said Mrs. Raynor.

"Stay in bed all time?" asked Katy, still looking at Biddy.

"Oh yes; I shall never get up any more," said Jenny Raynor. "Will you come up here, close to me, little girl?" Katy came forward a little.

"Miss Kennedy says you like to run about a great deal," said Jenny; "I used to like that very much."

Katy came close to the bed. She took her hands out of her pockets; they were full of pea-nuts. She laid them on the bed, and nodded to Biddy.

"I'll stay here," said she.

And Katy Kegan kept her word. She didn't get over her faults right off.

She had a hard fight with them; but for the first time in her life she tried hard to get rid of them, and soon showed she had great strength to do what she had made up her mind to do.

But Miss Kennedy was right. All Katy had needed was to _be needed_. This was her "weight."

She was the very best thing that could have been brought into Jenny Raynor's sad and shut-up life. Jenny was a good little girl, but no little child can be easily content and cheerful who can not go out into the sunlight, and enjoy the sweet full life of the birds and flowers, and the merry games with other little girls and boys. It is very hard for a child to lie always in bed, and be shut out from all other children's lives. Now Katy Kegan was so wild, so merry, so constantly full and running over with bright ideas of how to get fun out of everything and anything, that she was a whole play-ground in her one little self; and she brought all this life into the room where Jenny lay, and made a new world for Jenny there. Katy was as good as a theatre, for she imitated people, and did it quite wonderfully, so that Jenny could tell just whom she meant; that is, if she had ever seen the person Katy was taking off. And Katy would show her all that she had seen or noticed on the street, in just this way by imitating, so that Jenny seemed almost to make new acquaintances with people whom she had never really seen, by means of Katy's droll mimicry. When Katy saw how all her pranks and fun made Jenny laugh and look so pleased, she took good care to find out some fresh thing to amuse her with whenever she went out.

When Jenny Raynor gave the flowers to poor Biddy in the hospital so long ago, she could not know that the little kindness would come back to her a thousandfold through another little girl whom she had then never seen at all.

Least of all would you imagine that an old broken-armed doll fished out of an ash-can could be the means of doing so much good, and leading to so much happiness in so many lives. For the good that began in these little things goes on, and may reach into countless lives in time to come. Nothing stops, and nothing stands quite apart by itself from other things. You will find this out, and think of it more and more, as you grow older. As for Biddy O'Dolan, she is quite a young woman now. Of course she does not play with her doll any more. But she keeps it. No money could buy it, with that little wooden arm on it which Charley made. She calls it her first friend, and I think it was a very good friend, don't you?

THE END.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

ALICE'S QUESTION.

Softly, gently upward A strain from the organ floats, And the children at play in the nursery Listen awhile to the notes,

Stop, and are silent a moment-- They are almost tired of play, And the shadows of evening are falling, Making twilight out of the day.

Then down the broad old staircase Comes the patter of little feet, And in through the open doorway, Drawn by the sounds so sweet.

Then close to the organ stealing, With awe-struck eyes they gaze At the player, and listen mutely To the deep clear notes of praise.

Then drawing nearer and nearer, Made bold by the twilight gray, Little Alice looks up, and whispers, "Did G.o.d teach you how to play?"

THE CARE OF PARROTS.

Parrots are among the most intelligent of household pets, and much attention should be bestowed upon them. So large a bird suffers if kept constantly confined in a cage, but a parrot is so destructive that it is impossible to allow it the liberty of a house, as chairs, carpets, in short, every article of furniture, will soon show the marks of its strong beak. If there is a garden, the parrot should be given a daily promenade during warm weather. It is a necessity to this bird to exercise its beak, and if kept in a cage, it should often be given a chip of wood to tear to pieces. A parrot will amuse itself for hours biting a chip into small fragments. The cage and feed dishes should be thoroughly cleaned every day, and fresh gravel kept in the bottom of the cage.