A Daughter of the Land

"All right, then, I'll go out and begin packing my things, and see

about moving this afternoon. I'll leave my stoves, and beds, and

tables, and chairs for you; you can use your wedding things, and

be downright comfortable. I'll like living in town a spell real

well."

So once more Kate saw hope a beckoning star in the distance, and

ruffled the wings of the spirit preparatory to another flight:

only a short, humble flight this time, close earth; but still as

full of promise as life seemed to hold in any direction for her.

She greeted George casually, and as if nothing had happened, when

she was ready to see him.

"You're at the place where words are not of the slightest use to

me," she said. "I'm giving you one, and a final chance to ACT.

This seems all that is open to us. Go to work like a man, and we

will see what we can make of our last chance."

Kate was so glad when she sat in the carriage that was to take her

from the house and the woman she abominated that she could

scarcely behave properly. She clasped Adam tightly in her arms,

and felt truly his mother. She reached over and tucked the

blanket closer over Polly, but she did not carry her, because she

resembled her grandmother, while Adam was a Bates.

George drove carefully. He was on behaviour too good to last, but

fortunately both women with him knew him well enough not to expect

that it would. When they came in sight of the house, Kate could

see that the grass beside the road had been cut, the trees

trimmed, and Oh, joy, the house freshly painted a soft, creamy

white she liked, with a green roof. Aunt Ollie explained that she

furnished the paint and George did the work. He had swung oblong

clothes baskets from the ceiling of a big, cheery, old-fashioned

bedroom for a cradle for each baby, and established himself in a

small back room adjoining the kitchen. Kate said nothing about

the arrangement, because she supposed it had been made to give her

more room, and that George might sleep in peace, while she

wrestled with two tiny babies.

There was no doubt about the wrestling. The babies seemed of

nervous temperament, sleeping in short naps and lightly. Kate was

on her feet from the time she reached her new home, working when

she should not have worked; so that the result developed cross

babies, each attacked with the colic, which raged every night from

six o'clock until twelve and after, both frequently shrieking at

the same time. George did his share by going to town for a bottle

of soothing syrup, which Kate promptly threw in the creek. Once

he took Adam and began walking the floor with him, extending his

activities as far as the kitchen. In a few minutes he had the

little fellow sound asleep and he did not waken until morning;

then he seemed to droop and feel listless. When he took the baby

the second time and made the same trip to the kitchen, Kate laid

Polly on her bed and silently followed. She saw George lay the

baby on the table, draw a flask from his pocket, pour a spoon

partly full, filling it the remainder of the way from the

teakettle. As he was putting the spoon to the baby's lips, Kate

stepped beside him and taking it, she tasted the contents. Then

she threw the spoon into the dishpan standing near and picked up

the baby.