She went out by the side-door into the yard. As she passed the shed, the
new swing caught her eye.

"How exactly like Aunt Izzie," she thought, "ordering the children not
to swing till she gives them leave. I suppose she thinks it's too hot,
or something. _I_ sha'n't mind her, anyhow."

She seated herself in the swing. It was a first-rate one, with a broad,
comfortable seat, and thick new ropes. The seat hung just the right
distance from the floor. Alexander was a capital hand at putting up
swings, and the wood-shed the nicest possible spot in which to have one.

It was a big place, with a very high roof. There was not much wood left
in it just now, and the little there was, was piled neatly about the
sides of the shed, so as to leave plenty of room. The place felt cool
and dark, and the motion of the swing seemed to set the breeze blowing.
It waved Katy's hair like a great fan, and made her dreamy and quiet.
All sorts of sleepy ideas began to flit through her brain. Swinging to
and fro like the pendulum of a great clock, she gradually rose higher
and higher, driving herself along by the motion of her body, and
striking the floor smartly with her foot, at every sweep. Now she was at
the top of the high arched door. Then she could almost touch the
cross-beam above it, and through the small square window could see
pigeons sitting and pluming themselves on the eaves of the barn, and
white clouds blowing over the blue sky. She had never swung so high
before. It was like flying, she thought, and she bent and curved more
strongly in the seat, trying to send herself yet higher, and graze the
roof with her toes.