A Daughter of the Land

Before Kate awakened the following morning George was out feeding

the horses, cattle, and chickens, doing the milking, and working

like the proverbial beaver. By the time breakfast was ready, he

had convinced himself that he was a very exemplary man, while he

expected Kate to be convinced also. He stood ready and willing to

forgive her for every mean deceit and secret sin he ever had

committed, or had it in his heart to commit in the future. All

the world was rosy with him, he was flying with the wings of hope

straight toward a wonderful achievement that would bring pleasure

and riches, first to George Holt, then to his wife and children,

then to the old aunt he really cared more for than any one else.

Incidentally, his mother might have some share, while he would

bring such prosperity and activity to the village that all Walden

would forget every bad thing it had ever thought or known of him,

and delight to pay him honour. Kate might have guessed all this

when she saw the pails full of milk on the table, and heard George

whistling "Hail the Conquering Hero Comes," as he turned the cows

into the pasture; but she had not slept well. Most of the night

she had lain staring at the ceiling, her brain busy with

calculations, computations, most of all with personal values.

She dared not be a party to anything that would lose Aunt Ollie

her land; that was settled; but if she went into the venture

herself, if she kept the deeds in Aunt Ollie's name, the bank

account in hers, drew all the checks, kept the books, would it be

safe? Could George buy timber as he thought; could she, herself,

if he failed? The children were old enough to be in school now,

she could have much of the day, she could soon train Polly and

Adam to do even more than sweep and run errands; the scheme could

be materialized in the Bates way, without a doubt; but could it be

done in a Bates way, hampered and impeded by George Holt? Was the

plan feasible, after all? She entered into the rosy cloud

enveloping the kitchen without ever catching the faintest gleam of

its hue. George came to her the instant he saw her and tried to

put his arm around her. Kate drew back and looked at him

intently.

"Aw, come on now, Kate," he said. "Leave out the heroics and be

human. I'll do exactly as you say about everything if you will

help me wheedle Aunt Ollie into letting me have the money."

Kate stepped back and put out her hands defensively: "A rare

bargain," she said, "and one eminently worthy of you. You'll do

what I say, if I'll do what you say, without the slightest

reference as to whether it impoverishes a woman who has always

helped and befriended you. You make me sick!"