"How awfully good people are!" said Clover.
"I do think we ought to be the best girls in the world."
Last of all, Katy made a choice little selection from her stores, a splendid apple, a couple of fine pears, and handful of raisins and figs, and, with a few of the freshest flowers in a wine-glass, she went down the Row and tapped at Miss Jane's door.
Miss Jane was sitting up for the first time, wrapped in a shawl, and looking very thin and pale.
Katy, who had almost ceased to be afraid of her, went in cheerily.
"We've had a delicious box from home, Miss Jane, full of all sorts of things.
It has been such fun unpacking it!
I've brought you an apple, some pears, and this little bunch of flowers.
Wasn't it a nice Christmas for us?"
"Yes," said Miss Jane, "very nice indeed.
I heard some one saying in the entry that you had a box.
Thank you," as Katy set the basket and glass on the table.
"Those flowers are very sweet.
I wish you a Merry Christmas, I'm sure."
This was much from Miss Jane, who couldn't help speaking shortly, even when she was pleased.
Katy withdrew in high glee.
But that night, just before bed-time, something happened so surprising that Katy, telling Clover of it afterward, said she half fancied that she must have dreamed it all.
It was about eight o'clock in the evening: she was passing down Quaker Row, and Miss Jane called and asked her to come in.
Miss Jane's cheeks were flushed, and she spoke fast, as if she had resolved to say something, and thought the sooner it was over the better.
"Miss Carr," she began,
"I wish to tell you that I made up my mind some time since that we did you an injustice last term.
It is not your attentions to me during my illness which have changed my opinion,— that was done before I fell ill.
It is your general conduct, and the good influence which I have seen you exert over other girls, which convinced me that we must have been wrong about you.
That is all.
I thought you might like to hear me say this, and I shall say the same to Mrs. Nipson."
"Thank you," said Katy, "you don't know how glad I am!"
She half thought she would kiss Miss Jane, but somehow it didn't seem possible; so she shook hands very heartily instead, and flew to her room, feeling as if her feet were wings.
"It seems too good to be true.
I want to cry, I am so happy," she told Clover.
"What a lovely day this has been!"
And of all that she had received, I think Katy considered this explanation with Miss Jane as her very best Christmas box.
CHAPTER XII. WAITING FOR SPRING.
School was a much happier place after this.
Mrs. Nipson never alluded to the matter, but her manner altered.
Katy felt that she was no longer watched or distrusted, and her heart grew light.
In another week Miss Jane was so much better as to be hearing her classes again.
Illness had not changed her materially.
It is only in novels that rheumatic fever sweetens tempers, and makes disagreeable people over into agreeable ones.
Most of the girls disliked her as much as ever.
Her tongue was just as sharp, and her manner as grim.
But for Katy, from that time forward, there was a difference. Miss Jane was not affectionate to her,—it was not in her nature to be that,—but she was civil and considerate, and in a dry way, friendly, and gradually Katy grew to have an odd sort of liking for her.
Do any of you know how incredibly long winter seems in climates where for weeks together the thermometer stands at zero?
There is something hopeless in such cold.
You think of summer as of a thing read about somewhere in a book, but which has no actual existence. Winter seems the only reality in the world.
Katy and Clover felt this hopelessness growing upon them as the days went on, and the weather became more and more severe.
Ten, twenty, even thirty degrees below zero, was no unusual register for the Hillsover thermometers.
Such cold half frightened them, but nobody else was frightened or surprised.
It was dry, brilliant cold.
The December snows lay unmelted on the ground in March, and the paths cut then were crisp and hard still, only the white walls on either side had risen higher and higher, till only a moving line of hoods and tippets was visible above them, when the school went out for its daily walk.
Morning after morning the girls woke to find thick crusts of frost on their window-panes, and every drop of water in the wash-bowl or pitcher turned to solid ice.