Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic Part 23

"Oh, mother!" cried Lettie, "I'll never--never"--

"If I had not learned it then," went on her mother, "I should have known it later, for in your delirium you talked of nothing else; you went over that fearful scene constantly. I feared it would really affect your reason."

"Oh, mother!" cried Lettie, "you never told me!"

"We will not speak of it again," said her mother; "I think you have learned your lesson."

"Do you think it ended well, Kristy?" asked her mother as she finished the story.

"Well," said Kristy hesitating, "I suppose it was a good thing for her to find out that her mother was right,--but wasn't it horrid for her to lose all those beautiful things!"

"It was a costly lesson," said Mrs. Crawford; "but I think it was much needed--she was a willful girl."

Just at that moment the door opened and Uncle Tom entered.

"Well," he said, "how did Kristy get through the rainy day that spoiled her picnic?"

"In the usual way," answered Mrs. Crawford.

"Levying on everybody for stories?" asked Uncle Tom.

"Yes," said Kristy; "and I've had the loveliest ones"--

"Kristy," said Uncle Tom, "I want to give you a birthday present, but knowing your preference for stories, I did not venture to offer you anything else. So, happening to hear a specially interesting one to-day, I have persuaded the relater to come and tell it to you."

Mrs. Crawford looked up in surprise. "Tom," she said doubtingly, "what new pranks are you up to now? You're almost as young as Kristy herself."

Uncle Tom tried to look very meek, but there was a twinkle in his eye which did not look meek at all.

"Please, sister mine," he began, "our niece Katherine--otherwise Kate--has just got back from San Francisco, or what is left of it. She went through the earthquake and the fire, lost all her goods and chattels, and found a baby, which she has brought home. She is in the hall waiting to be received."

Before the last words were spoken Mrs. Crawford had risen and hurried into the hall, where, sure enough, the refugee from San Francisco, a girl about fourteen years old, sat smiling, with a pretty little girl of perhaps two years in her lap.

"Uncle Tom wanted me to make my visit to you to-night," she said, after she had been warmly welcomed and taken into the sitting-room, "as a present to Kristy, who is as fond of stories as ever, I hear."

"Indeed she is!" said Mrs. Crawford, "and in this case we shall all be very much interested to hear your adventures. It must have been a fearful experience."

"It was," said Kate; "but now that it is over I think that I, at least, have gained more than I lost, because I found this baby--though what I shall do with her I don't know yet. Of course I have tried my best to find her parents, for, if living, they must be nearly crazy about her."

"Surely they must," said Mrs. Crawford; "she is a darling."

"Well!" interrupted Uncle Tom, looking at his watch, "time is pa.s.sing; is Kristy to have her story?"

With a smile at his pretended anxiety, Kate began.

CHAPTER XVI

HOW KATE FOUND A BABY

I had been spending the winter, as you know, with my sister in San Francisco, going to school, and I was expecting to come home in a few days when the thing happened.

I was awakened by being flung violently out of bed across the room, where all the light furniture, such as chairs and all loose things, followed me. I tried to get up, but I could not stand, the house shook so. It seemed like a s.h.i.+p in a rough sea. In a minute the plastering began to fall, and I feared it would fall on my head, so by hard work I dragged myself to the door, which I tried to open. At first it was jammed so tight together that I could not stir it, but the next shake of the house flung it wide open, and I crept into the hall, where I found the whole family hurrying out of their rooms, all in nightclothes, of course, and scared most to death.

"We must get out of the house before the walls fall," said my brother-in-law, helping his wife down the stairs, which swayed and tottered as if they would fall, every minute. We all followed them in such a hurry that I don't remember how I got to the bottom. I only remember finding myself on the sidewalk in my nightdress, barefooted and bareheaded, of course.

We did not think how we looked; the street was full of people, many of them as little dressed as we, and all hurrying to get out of the streets, where any minute the houses might fall on them. Our apartment was in a large apartment house in a street full of tall buildings, and when I looked up at them I saw them rock and bend towards each other, so that it seemed as if they would fall together and crush us all.

My first trouble was getting separated from my sister and her husband, in the confusion of the crowd. I soon found myself alone among strangers. I tried to turn back to find them, but everybody was going the other way and I couldn't move a step, so I had to go with the crowd. I was pushed and hurried on with the rest towards a park at the end of the street, feeling desolate enough, you may be sure.

Strange things I saw on the way; none of the people more than half dressed, and many of them just as they got out of bed, but one and all, except myself, carrying some of their possessions. Some had armfuls of clothes which they had s.n.a.t.c.hed up as they ran, and they kept dropping shoes and light things, so that the street was littered with them and I was constantly stumbling over them; some had an armful of books or papers; others carried pieces of china or silver; many had satchels or suit-cases, and one or two were dragging trunks.

A great many people had children; some holding one and dragging one or two others; more than one I saw carrying sick persons unable to walk.

It was curious to see the number of pets that were being carried; birds, of course, many in cages, but some in the hands--such as parrots. One woman had three cages of canaries, which she had the greatest difficulty in holding; another had a birdcage in one hand and a great cat in the other arm. There was no end to the small dogs in arms--barking and howling, most of them; but the cats were struggling as if scared out of their wits. Sometimes a bird or a cat would break away and disappear at once in the crowd, and I wondered where the poor things went. But many were carried safely, I am sure, for the park, where we all--thousands of us--spent the day and night, seemed to have almost as many animals as people.

In the park I found the baby. She was sitting on the ground, holding in her arms a big cat. She was smiling and talking to "Kitty," and did not seem at all frightened by the crowd and the confusion around her.

I thought her mother must have left her for a minute, and I sat down beside her to keep watch that no harm came to her.

There I sat all that day and night, but no one came to claim her. She could not tell me anything, of course, but she took kindly to me.

Indeed, she seemed to adopt me from the first minute, and she was so sweet I couldn't bear to leave her. She never once cried except when she got very hungry, and when she found, in the morning, that her cat had gone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: In the park I found a baby ... and I sat down beside it.]

I had, after the first attempt, given up going about looking for my sister. I knew she would be looking for me, and I could not bear to leave the baby, as I said. Through that long night I sat watching the city burn, holding in my arms the dear little thing, who slept through it all. I was so excited that I almost forgot that I was not dressed.

Many people around me were in the same plight, but it was a warm night, so that we did not suffer.

But how alone I did feel! I did not know whether Belle and Harry were alive, nor how I should ever get home. It seemed as if we should all be burned up, anyway. The park was almost as crowded as a city; people everywhere around me; some lying asleep, tired out, on the bare ground; others mourning over their losses, and others guarding the few things they had saved. One woman near me had two pillow-cases full of things, which she sat on all night, and another had a bedquilt, which she spread out for her four children to lie on.

It's very queer, but I seem to forget about a good deal of the time the next day, for I can hardly remember how long it was when, after hours of walking, it seemed to me, I reached the place where food was being given out, the baby in my arms, of course. And not until I had eaten a piece of bread and seen her nibbling on one, too, did I seem to come to myself and rouse myself to see what I could do.

All this time baby was still mourning her lost kitty, and trying to take every cat she saw. It was wonderful how many people had cats with them; some held by a string, some in birdcages, but many held in arms.

When the people got food I noticed that they always seemed to share with their pets. There were a great many dogs, but they were not so wild as the cats; they stayed by their friends.

There were lots and lots of canaries in cages, and parrots and other large birds, some in cages and some held in hands or seated on the shoulders of their owners.

After having something to eat and getting really waked up, I began to think what I should do. My first thought was to try to get over to Oakland, where we had friends, so I started off towards the ferry. My feet were blistered and sore, and it was hard to walk; my hair was flying every way, for of course my braids had come out and I had no comb or brush. I must have looked like a crazy creature. As I came past a wagon in which a woman was distributing clothes, she noticed me and spoke to me. I had not seen that she had clothes. She called out, "See here, my girl! I think I have a bundle for you," and she put a large package in my hands, marked, "To be given to some one girl in need."

"You look like the one for whom this was intended," she said kindly, as I took the package, "and I think I can give you something for the baby, too," she went on.

She did not find any clothes suitable, but she gave me a white flannel petticoat to wrap round her. Then I borrowed a knife from a man who was cutting bread, and cut armholes, and slipped the petticoat over her. The band came around her shoulders, and her nightgown covered her neck and arms. She did look too cute for anything in her odd dress.

As soon as I could find a rather quiet place under a low tree--for I was still in the park--I opened my bundle. I wish I could know the woman who made up that package, I should like to have her know what a G.o.dsend it was; why, it held a complete outfit for a girl of my size, from shoes and stockings up to a hat. Nothing had been forgotten--underclothes--towel--soap--comb--pins--handkerchief--even ribbons to tie the hair. Above all, a comfortable dress of some gray goods, which fitted me pretty well.