As she stood on the top step, grasping her flowers, and
a little doubtful what to do next, a feeble voice from a bed-room
called out:
"Who is there?"
This was Mrs. Spenser. She was lying on her bed, which was very tossed
and tumbled, as if it hadn't been made up that morning. The room was as
disorderly and dirty as all the rest of the house, and Mrs. Spenser's
wrapper and night-cap were by no means clean, but her face was sweet,
and she had beautiful curling hair, which fell over the pillow. She was
evidently very sick, and altogether Katy felt sorrier for her than she
had ever done for anybody in her life.
"Who are you, child?" asked Mrs. Spenser.
"I'm Dr. Carr's little girl," answered Katy, going straight up to the
bed. "I came to bring you some flowers." And she laid the bouquet on the
dirty sheet.
Mrs. Spenser seemed to like the flowers. She took them up and smelled
them for a long time, without speaking.
"But how did you get in?" she said at last.
"The door was open," faltered Katy, who was beginning to feel scared at
her own daring, "and they said you were sick, so I thought perhaps you
would like me to come and see you."
"You are a kind little girl," said Mrs.
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