I hate to disappoint you dreadfully,
Katy, but I have almost decided to do it. Shall you mind very much? Can
you ever forgive me?" She was fairly crying now.
Katy had to swallow hard before she could answer, the sense of
disappointment was so sharp; and with all her efforts there was almost a
sob in her voice as she said,--
"Why yes, indeed, dear Polly, there is nothing to forgive. You are
perfectly right to go home if you feel so." Then with another swallow
she added: "You have given me the loveliest six months' treat that ever
was, and I should be a greedy girl indeed if I found fault because it is
cut off a little sooner than we expected."
"You are so dear and good not to be vexed," said her friend, embracing
her. "It makes me feel doubly sorry about disappointing you. Indeed I
wouldn't if I could help it, but I simply can't. I _must_ go home.
Perhaps we'll come back some day when Amy is grown up, or safely married
to somebody who will take good care of her!"
This distant prospect was but a poor consolation for the immediate
disappointment. The more Katy thought about it the sorrier did she feel.
It was not only losing the chance--very likely the only one she would
ever have--of seeing Switzerland and Germany; it was all sorts of other
little things besides. They must go home in a strange ship with a
captain they did not know, instead of in the "Spartacus," as they had
planned; and they should land in New York, where no one would be waiting
for them, and not have the fun of sailing into Boston Bay and seeing
Rose on the wharf, where she had promised to be.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202