3:16 pm - Monday January 20, 5992

Miss Katy Did and Miss Cricket-by Harriet Beecher Stowe-Novel and Ebooks

Novel Name:Miss Katy did and Miss Cricket

Written by:Harriet Beecher Stowe

Category:Fiction

Page 1:

 

Miss Katy-did sat on the branch of a flowering azalea, in her best
suit of fine green and silver, with wings of point-lace from Mother
Nature’s finest web.

Miss Katy was in the very highest possible spirits, because her
gallant cousin, Colonel Katy-did, had looked in to make her a morning
visit. It was a fine morning, too, which goes for as much among the
Katy-dids as among men and women. It was, in fact, a morning that
Miss Katy thought must have been made on purpose for her to enjoy
herself in. There had been a patter of rain the night before, which
had kept the leaves awake talking to each other till nearly morning;
but by dawn the small winds had blown brisk little puffs, and whisked
the heavens clear and bright with their tiny wings, as you have seen
Susan clear away the cobwebs in your mamma’s parlour; and so now
there were only left a thousand blinking, burning water-drops,
hanging like convex mirrors at the end of each leaf, and Miss Katy
admired herself in each one.

“Certainly I am a pretty creature,” she said to herself; and when the
gallant colonel said something about being dazzled by her beauty, she
only tossed her head and took it as quite a matter of course.

“The fact is, my dear colonel,” she said, “I am thinking of giving a
party, and you must help me to make out the lists.”

“My dear, you make me the happiest of Katy-dids.”

“Now,” said Miss Katy-did, drawing an azalea-leaf towards her, “let
us see–whom shall we have? The Fireflies, of course; everybody
wants them, they are so brilliant,–a little unsteady, to be sure,
but quite in the higher circles.”

“Yes, we must have the Fireflies,” echoed the colonel.

“Well, then, and the Butterflies and the Moths. Now, there’s a
trouble. There’s such an everlasting tribe of those Moths; and if
you invite dull people they’re always sure all to come, every one of
them. Still, if you have the Butterflies, you can’t leave out the
Moths.”

“Old Mrs. Moth has been laid up lately with a gastric fever, and that
may keep two or three of the Misses Moth at home,” said the colonel.

“Whatever could give the old lady such a turn?” said Miss Katy. “I
thought she never was sick.”

“I suspect it’s high living. I understand she and her family ate up
a whole ermine cape last month, and it disagreed with them.”

“For my part, I can’t conceive how the Moths can live as they do,”
said Miss Katy, with a face of disgust. “Why, I could no more eat
worsted and fur, as they do–“

“That is quite evident from the fairy-like delicacy of your
appearance,” said the colonel. “One can see that nothing so gross or
material has ever entered into your system.”

“I’m sure,” said Miss Katy, “mamma says she don’t know what does keep
me alive; half a dewdrop and a little bit of the nicest part of a
rose-leaf, I assure you, often last me for a day. But we are
forgetting our list. Let’s see–the Fireflies, Butterflies, Moths.
The Bees must come, I suppose.”

“The Bees are a worthy family,” said the colonel.

“Worthy enough, but dreadfully humdrum,” said Miss Katy. “They never
talk about anything but honey and housekeeping; still, they are a
class of people one cannot neglect.”

“Well, then, there are the Bumble-Bees.”

“Oh, I dote on them! General Bumble is one of the most dashing,
brilliant fellows of the day.”

“I think he is shockingly corpulent,” said Colonel Katy-did, not at
all pleased to hear him praised; “don’t you?”

“I don’t know but he IS a little stout,” said Miss Katy; “but so
distinguished and elegant in his manners–something quite martial and
breezy about him.”

“Well, if you invite the Bumble-Bees, you must have the Hornets.”

“Those spiteful Hornets! I detest them!”

“Nevertheless, dear Miss Katy, one does not like to offend the
Hornets.”

“No, one can’t. There are those five Misses Hornet–dreadful old
maids!–as full of spite as they can live. You may be sure they will
every one come, and be looking about to make spiteful remarks. Put
down the Hornets, though.”

“How about the Mosquitoes!” said the colonel.

“Those horrid Mosquitoes–they are dreadfully plebeian! Can’t one
cut them?”

“Well dear Miss Katy,” said the colonel, “if you ask my candid
opinion as a friend, I should say not. There’s young Mosquito, who
graduated last year, has gone into literature, and is connected with
some of our leading papers, and they say he carries the sharpest pen
of all the writers. It won’t do to offend him.”

Filed in: Classics, Fantasy, Fiction

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