"I was just telling my son," Mrs. Holt said rather breathlessly,
"that I would take a peep and see if I had forgot to put your
extra covers on the shelf."
Kate threw her book on the bed and walked to the table. She had
experienced her share of battle for the day. "No children to
rummage," passed through her brain. It was the final week of hot,
dry August weather, while a point had been made of calling her
attention to the extra cover when the room had been shown her.
She might have said these things, but why say them? The shamed
face of the woman convicted her of "rummaging," as she had termed
it. Without a word Kate sat down beside the table, drew her
writing material before her, and began addressing an envelope to
her brother Hiram. Mrs. Holt left the room, disliking Kate more
than if she had said what the woman knew she thought.
Kate wrote briefly, convincingly, covering every objection and
every advantage she could conceive, and then she added the
strongest plea she could make. What Hiram would do, she had no
idea. As with all Bates men, land was his God, but it required
money to improve it. He would feel timid about making a first
attempt to teach after he was married and a father of a child, but
Nancy Ellen's marriage would furnish plausible excuse; all of the
family had done their school work as perfectly as all work they
undertook; he could teach if he wanted to; would he want to? If
he did, at least, she would be sure of the continued friendship of
her sister and Robert Gray. Suddenly Kate understood what that
meant to her as she had not realized before. She was making long
strides toward understanding herself, which is the most important
feature of any life.
She sent a line of pleading to her sister-in-law, a word of love
to the baby, and finishing her letter, started to post it, as she
remembered the office was only a few steps down the street. In
the hall it occurred to her that she was the "Teacher" now, and so
should be an example. Possibly the women of Walden did not run
bareheaded down the street on errands. She laid the letter on a
small shelf of an old hatrack, and stepped back to her room to put
on her hat. Her return was so immediate that Mrs. Holt had the
letter in her fingers when Kate came back, and was reading the
address so intently, that with extended hand, the girl said in
cold tones: "My letter, please!" before the woman realized she
was there. Their eyes met in a level look. Mrs. Holt's mouth
opened in ready excuse, but this time Kate's temper overcame her
better judgment.