Kate and Adam followed their usual routine with only the
alterations required by the absence of Polly. Kate now prepared
breakfast while Adam did the feeding and milking; washed the
dishes and made the beds while he hitched up; then went to the
field with him. On rainy days he swept and she dusted; always
they talked over and planned everything they did, in the house or
afield; always they schemed, contrived, economized, and worked to
attain the shortest, easiest end to any result they strove for.
They were growing in physical force, they were efficient, they
attended their own affairs strictly. Their work was always done
on time, their place in order, their deposits at the bank
frequent. As the cold days came they missed Polly, but scarcely
ever mentioned her. They had more books and read and studied
together, while every few evenings Adam picked up his hat and
disappeared, but soon he and Milly came in together. Then they
all read, popped corn, made taffy, knitted, often Kate was called
away by some sewing or upstairs work she wanted to do, so that the
youngsters had plenty of time alone to revel in the wonder of
life's greatest secret.
To Kate's ears came the word that Polly would be a mother in the
spring, that the Peters family were delighted and anxious for the
child to be a girl, as they found six males sufficient for one
family. Polly was looking well, feeling fine, was a famous little
worker, and seldom sat on a chair because some member of the
Peters family usually held her.
"I should think she would get sick of all that mushing," said Adam
when he repeated these things.
"She's not like us," said Kate. "She'll take all she can get, and
call for more. She's a long time coming; but I'm glad she's well
and happy."
"Buncombe!" said Adam. "She isn't so very well. She's white as
putty, and there are great big, dark hollows under her eyes, and
she's always panting for breath like she had been running. Nearly
every time I pass there I see her out scrubbing the porches, or
feeding the chickens, or washing windows, or something. You bet
Mrs. Peters has got a fine hired girl now, and she's smiling all
over about it."
"She really has something to smile about," said Kate.
To Polly's ears went the word that Adam and her mother were having
a fine time together, always together; and that they had Milly
York up three times a week to spend the evening; and that Milly
said that it passed her to see why Polly ran away from Mrs. Holt.
She was the grandest woman alive, and if she had any running to do
in her neighbourhood, she would run TO her, and not FROM her.
Whereupon Polly closed her lips firmly and looked black, but not
before she had said: "Well, if Mother had done just one night a
week of that entertaining for Henry and me, we wouldn't have run
from her, either."