5 What Katy Did Next - Bedtime Tales Stephanie Poppins

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph.

A romantic bedtime podcast guaranteed to help you drift off into a calm relaxing sleep.

Come with me as we go back in time to visit Katie Carr.

She is all grown up now but she still has the same trials and tribulations she had as a child.

But before we begin let's take the time to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose.

Take a deep breath in through your nose.

That's it.

Then let it out on a long sigh.

It is time to relax and really let go.

Feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.

And let the pressures of the day seep away.

Happy listening.

What Katie Did Next by Susan Coolidge Read and abridged by Stephanie Poppins Chapter 5 Storybook England Oh is it raining?

Was Katie's first question next morning when the maid came to call her.

The pretty room with its gaily flower chintz and china and its brass bedstead did not look half so bright as when lit with gas the night before.

And a dim grey light struggled in at the window which in America would certainly have meant bad weather coming or already come.

Oh no indeed ma'am it's a very fine day not bright ma'am but very dry was the answer.

Katie couldn't imagine what the maid meant when she peeped between the curtains and saw a thick dull mist lying over everything and the pavements opposite shining with wet.

Afterwards when she understood better the peculiarities of the English climate she was too learned to call days not absolutely rainy fine and to be grateful for them.

But on that first morning her sensations were of bewildered surprise almost vexation.

Mrs.

Ash and Amy were waiting in the coffee room when she went in search of them.

What shall we have for breakfast?

Asked Mrs.

Ash.

Our first meal in England.

Katie you order it.

Let's have all the things we read about in books and don't have at home said Katie eagerly.

But when she came to look over the bill of fare there didn't seem to be many such things.

Souls and muffins she finally decided upon and as an afterthought gooseberry jam.

Muffins sound so very good in dickens you know she explained to Mrs.

Ash and I never saw a soul.

The souls when they came proved to be nice little pan fish not unlike what in New England are called scup.

All the party took kindly to them but the muffins were a great disappointment tough and tasteless with a flavor about them of scorched flannel.

How queer and disagreeable they are said Katie.

I feel as if I was eating rounds cut from an old ironing blanket.

Dear me what did dickens mean by making such fuss about them I wonder and I don't care for gooseberry jam either it isn't half as good as the jams we have at home.

Books are very deceptive you know.

I'm afraid they are said Mrs.

Ash.

We must make up our minds to find a great many things quite not so nice as they sound when we read about them.

Mabel was breakfasting with them of course and was heard to remark at this juncture that she didn't like muffins either and would a great deal rather have waffles.

Whereupon Amy reproved her and explained nobody in England knew what waffles were.

They were such a stupid nation and that Mabel must learn to eat whatever was given her and not find fault with it.

After this moral lesson it was found to be dangerously near train time and they all hurried to the railway station which fortunately was close by.

There was rather a scramble and confusion for a few moments for Katie who had undertaken to buy the tickets was puzzled by the unaccustomed coinage and Mrs.

Ash whose part was to see after the luggage found herself perplexed and worried by the absence of cheques and by no means disposed to accept the porter's statement that if only she bear in mind the trunks were in the second van from the engine and to get out and see they were safe once or twice during the journey and to call for them as soon as they reached London she'd have no trouble.

However all was happily settled at last and without any serious inconveniences they found themselves established in a first-class carriage and presently after running smoothly at full speed across the rich English midlands towards London and the eastern coast.

The extreme greenness of the October landscape was what first struck them and the wonderfully orderly and trim aspect of the country with no ragged stump dotted fields or reaches of wild untended woods.

Late in October as it was the hedgerows and meadows were still almost summer-like in colour although the trees were leafless.

The delightful looking old manor houses and farmhouses old manor houses and farmhouses of which they had glimpses now and then were a constant pleasure to Katie with their mullioned windows twisted chimney stacks and porches of quaint build.

She contrasted them with the uncompromising ugliness of farmhouses which she remembered at home and wondered whether it could be that the end of another thousand years or so America would have picturesque buildings like these to show in addition to her picturesque scenery.

Suddenly into the midst of these reflections they glanced a picture so vivid it almost took away her breath as the train steamed past a pack of hounds in full cry followed by a galloping throng of scarlet-coated huntsmen.

One horse and rider were in the air going over a wall another was rising to the leap.

A string of others headed by a lady were tearing across a meadow bounded by a little brook and beyond that streamed the hounds following the invisible fox.

It was like one of Muybridge's instantaneous photographs of the horse in motion for the moment that it lasted and Katie put it away in her memory distinct and brilliant as she might a real picture.

Their destination in London was Bat's Hotel in Dover Street.

The old gentleman on the Spartacus who had crossed so many times had furnished Mrs.

Ash with a number of addresses of hotels from among which Katie had chosen Bat's.

It was the place that was mentioned in Miss Edgeworth's patronage where Godfrey Percy didn't stay when Lord Olbera sent him the letter.

It seemed an odd enough reason for going anywhere that a person in a novel didn't stay there.

Is it just like a dream or a story said Katie as they drove from the London station in a four-wheeler.

It really is ourselves and this really is London.

Can you imagine it?

She looked out.

Nothing met her eyes but dingy weather,

Muddy streets,

Long rows of ordinary brick or stone houses.

It might very well have been New York or Boston on a foggy day yet to Katie's eyes all things had a subtle difference which made them unlike similar objects at home.

Wimpole Street she cried suddenly as she caught sight of the name on the corner.

That's the street where Maria Crawford in Mansfield Park opened one of the best houses after she married Mr.

Rushworth.

Think of seeing Wimpole Street.

More such fun awaited them when they arrived at Batts.

A landlady sailed forth to meet them as they often did in books.

An old landlady smiling with a towering lace cap on her head,

A flowered silk gown,

A gold chain and a pair of fat mittened hands demurely crossed over a black brocade apron.

She alone would have been worth crossing the ocean to see they declared.

Their telegram had been received and the rooms were ready.

With a bright smoky fire of soft coals the dinner table was then set and a nice formal white cravatted old waiter who seemed to have stepped out of the same book with a landlady was waiting to serve them.

Everything was dingy and old-fashioned but very clean and comfortable.

And Katie concluded on the whole Godfrey Percy would have done wisely to go to Batts and could have fared no better and could have fared no better than at the other hotel where he did stay.

The first of Katie's London sights came to her the next morning.

She heard a bell ring and a queer squeaking little voice utter a speech of which she couldn't make out a single word.

Then came a laugh and a shout as if several boys were amused at something or another and altogether her curiosity was roused.

She finished dressing as fast as she could and ran to the drawing room window.

Quite a little crowd was collected under the window and in their midst was a queer box raised high on poles with little red curtains tied back on either side.

Katie knew in a moment she was seeing her first Punch and Judy show.

She watched delightedly.

Then when Punch had gone away the question arose as to what they should choose next out of the many delightful things to see in London for their first morning.

Like 99 Americans out of a hundred they decided on Westminster Abbey and indeed there is nothing in England better worth seeing or more impressive in its dim rich antiquity to eyes fresh from the world which still calls itself new.

So the Abbey they went and lingered there till Mrs.

Ash declared herself to be absolutely dropping with fatigue.

If you don't take me home and give me something to eat she said I shall drop down on one of those pedestals and stay there and be exhibited forever as an effigy of somebody belonging to ancient English history.

So Katie tore herself away from Henry VII and Poet's Corner and tore Amy away from a quaint little tomb shaped like a cradle.

She could only be consoled by the promise she could come again soon and stay as long as she liked and she reminded Katie of this promise the very next morning.

Mama's waked up with a rather a bad headache she said.

She thinks she'll lie still and not come to breakfast.

She sends a love and says will you please have a cab and go where you like and if I won't be a trouble she will be glad if you would take me with you and I won't be a trouble Miss Katie I know where I wish you to go.

Where is that?

Asked Katie.

To see that little baby grave again we saw yesterday.

I want to show her to Mabel.

She didn't go with us you know and I don't like to have her mind not improved.

Darling Miss Katie might I buy some flowers and put them on the baby?

She's so dusty and old I don't believe anybody's put any flowers on her for ever so long.

Katie found this idea rather pretty and willingly stopped at Covent Garden where they bought a bunch of late roses for 18 pence which entirely satisfied Amy.

With them in her hand and Mabel in her arms she led the way through the dim aisles of the abbey through grates and doors and up and down steps the guide following but not at all needed for Amy seemed to have a perfectly clear recollection of every turn and winding.

When at last the chapel was reached she laid the roses on the tomb with gentle fingers and a pitiful reverent look in her grey eyes.

Then she lifted Mabel up to kiss the odd little baby effigy above the quilt whereupon the guide seemed altogether surprised out of his composure and remarked.

Little miss is an American it's plain to see.

No English child would be likely to think of doing such a thing.

Do not English children take interest in the tombs of children?

Asked Katie.

Oh yes and interest but they don't take special notice one above another.

Katie could scarcely keep from laughing especially as she heard Amy give an audible sniff and inform Mabel she was glad she was not an English child who didn't notice things and liked grown-up graves as much as she did little ones like this.

Later in the day when Mrs.

Ash was better they drove down to the quaint old keep which has been the scene of so many tragedies and is known as the Tower of London.

Here they were shown various rooms and chapels and prisons and among the rest of the apartments where Queen Elizabeth a friendless young princess was shut up for many months by her sister Queen Mary.

Katie had read somewhere and now told Amy the pretty legend of the four little children who lived with their parents in the tower and used to play with a royal captive and how one little boy bought her a key which he'd picked up on the ground and said now you can go out when you will lady and how the lords of the council getting wind of it sent for the children to question them and frightened them and their friends almost to death and forbade them to ever go near the princess again.

A story about children always brings the past much nearer to a child and Amy's imagination was so excited by this tale when they got to the darksome closet which is said to have been the princess of Sir Walter Raleigh she marched out of it with a pale and wrathful face.

If this is English history I never mean to learn any more of it and neither shall Mabel she declared but it was not possible for Amy or Katie or any child for that matter not to learn a great deal of history simply by going about London.

There was the charter house where Thackeray went to school and the home of the poor brothers connected with it in which Colonel Newcombe answered at some to the roll call of the angels.

They went to the service of the delightful old church of Saint Mary in the temple and thought of Ivanhoe and Brian de Bois Gilbert and Rebecca the Jewess.

From there they went to Lamb's Court where Penn Dennis and George Warrington dwelt in chambers together and to Brick Court where Oliver Goldsmith passed so much of his life and the little rooms in which Charles and Mary Lamb spent so many sadly happy years.

They also went to see Milton's house and Saint Giles Church in which he's buried and stood a long time before Saint James's place trying to make out which could have been Miss Burney's windows when she was dressed to Queen Charlotte of bitter memory.

They saw Paternoster Row and number five Cheney Walk sacred forevermore to the memory of Thomas Carlyle and Whitehall where Queen Elizabeth lay in state and King Charles was beheaded.

By a great good luck they had a glimpse of George Elliot getting out of a cab.

She stood for a moment while she gave her fare to the cabman and Katie looked as one who might not look again and carried away a distinct picture of the young beautiful interesting remarkable face.

With all this to see and do the last week sped all too swiftly and the last day came before they were all ready to leave what Katie called Storybook England.

Mrs Ash had decided to cross by New Haven because someone had told her of the beautiful old town of Rouen and it seemed very easy and convenient to take it on the way to Paris.

The English Channel of course has a character of its own which distinguishes it from other seas.

It seems made fractious and difficult by nature and set us on purpose to be a barrier between two nations who are too unalike to easily understand each other.

Because of this the chop across was worse than usual on the night when the travellers crossed and the steamer had to fight her way inch by inch.

Oh such a little steamer it was and oh such a long night.