Kate stood breathlessly still, looking at her mother. Mrs. Bates
wiped her eyes. "I ain't so mortal certain," she said, "that I
don't open up on him and take the first word. I think likely I
been defrauded out of more that really counts in this world, than
he has. Ain't that little roly-poly of Hannah's too sweet? Seems
like I'll hardly quit feeling her little sticky hands and her
little hot mouth on my face when I die; and as she went out she
whispered in my ear: 'Do it again, Grandma, Oh, please do it
again!' an it's more'n likely I'll not get the chance, no matter
how willing I am. Kate, I am going to leave you what of my money
is left -- I haven't spent so much -- and while you live here, I
wish each year you would have this same kind of a party and pay
for it out of that money, and call it 'Grandmother's Party.' Will
you?"
"I surely will," said Kate. "And hadn't I better have ALL of
them, and put some little thing from you on the tree for them?
You know how Hiram always was wild for cuff buttons, and Mary
could talk by the hour about a handkerchief with lace on it, and
Andrew never yet has got that copy of 'Aesop's Fables,' he always
wanted. Shall I?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Bates. "Oh, yes, and when you do it, Katie, if
they don't chain me pretty close in on the other side, I think
likely I'll be sticking around as near as I can get to you."
Kate slipped a hot brick rolled in flannel to the cold old feet,
and turning out the light she sat beside the bed and stroked the
tired head until easy breathing told her that her mother was sound
asleep. Then she went back to the fireplace and sitting in the
red glow she told Adam, 3d, PART of what her mother had said.
Long after he was gone, she sat gazing into the slowly graying
coals, her mind busy with what she had NOT told.
That spring was difficult for Kate. Day after day she saw her
mother growing older, feebler, and frailer. And as the body
failed, up flamed the wings of the spirit, carrying her on and on,
each day keeping her alive, when Kate did not see how it could be
done. With all the force she could gather, each day Mrs. Bates
struggled to keep going, denied that she felt badly, drove herself
to try to help about the house and garden. Kate warned the
remainder of the family what they might expect at any hour; but
when they began coming in oftener, bringing little gifts and being
unusually kind, Mrs. Bates endured a few of the visits in silence,
then she turned to Kate and said after her latest callers: "I
wonder what in the name of all possessed ails the folks? Are they
just itching to start my funeral? Can't they stay away until you
send them word that the breath's out of my body?"