"I believe you would," said Nancy Ellen, wonderingly. "I believe
you would!"
"You're might right, I would," said Kate. "If I were married to a
man like Robert Gray, I'd fight tooth and nail before I'd let him
fall below his high ideals. It's as much your job to keep him up,
as it is his to keep himself. If God didn't make him a father, I
would, and I'd keep him BUSY on the job, if I had to adopt
sixteen."
Nancy Ellen laughed, as they went to their berths. The next
morning they awakened in cool Michigan country and went speeding
north among evergreen forests and clear lakes mirroring the
pointed forest tops and blue sky, past slashing, splashing
streams, in which they could almost see the speckled trout darting
over the beds of white sand. By late afternoon they had reached
their destination and were in their rooms, bathed, dressed, and
ready for the dinner hour. In the evening they went walking,
coming back to the hotel tired and happy. After several days they
began talking to people and making friends, going out in fishing
and boating parties in the morning, driving or boating in the
afternoon, and attending concerts or dances at night. Kate did
not dance, but she loved to see Nancy Ellen when she had a
sufficiently tall, graceful partner; while, as she watched the
young people and thought how innocent and happy they seemed, she
asked her sister if they could not possibly arrange for Adam and
Polly to go to Hartley a night or two a week that winter, and join
the dancing class. Nancy Ellen was frankly delighted, so Kate
cautiously skirted the school question in such a manner that she
soon had Nancy Ellen asking if it could not be arranged. When
that was decided, Nancy Ellen went to dance, while Kate stood on
the veranda watching her. The lights from the window fell
strongly on Kate. She was wearing her evening dress of smoky
gray, soft fabric, over shining silk, with knots of dull blue
velvet and gold lace here and there. She had dressed her hair
carefully; she appeared what she was, a splendid specimen of
healthy, vigorous, clean womanhood.
"Pardon me, Mrs. Holt," said a voice at her elbow, "but there's
only one head in this world like yours, so this, of course, must
be you."
Kate's heart leaped and stood still. She turned slowly, then held
out her hand, smiling at John Jardine, but saying not a word. He
took her hand, and as he gripped it tightly he studied her
frankly.
"Thank God for this!" he said, fervently. "For years I've dreamed
of you and hungered for the sight of your face; but you cut me off
squarely, so I dared not intrude on you -- only the Lord knows how
delighted I am to see you here, looking like this."