A Daughter of the Land

Kate lifted herself full height, and drew a deep breath. "Well, I

guess I manage a little Christmas after this," she said, "and

maybe a Fourth of July, and a birthday, and a few other things. I

needn't be such a coward. I believe I can make it."

From that hour she began trying to think of something she could do

that would bring returns more nearly commensurate with the time

and strength she was spending. She felt tied to Walden because

she owned the house, and could rely on working on shares with Aunt

Ollie for winter food; but there was nothing she could do there

and take care of the children that would bring more than the most

meagre living. Still they were living, each year more

comfortably; the children were growing bigger and stronger; soon

they could help at something, if only she could think what. The

time flew, each day a repetition of yesterday's dogged, soul-

tiring grind, until some days Kate was close to despair. Each day

the house grew shabbier; things wore out and could not be

replaced; poverty showed itself more plainly. So three more years

of life in Walden passed, setting their indelible mark on Kate.

Time and again she almost broke the spell that bound her, but she

never quite reached the place where her thought cleared, her heart

regained its courage, her soul dared take wing, and try another

flight. When she thought of it, "I don't so much mind the

falling," said Kate to herself; "but I do seem to select the

hardest spots to light on."

Kate sat on the back steps, the sun shone, her nearest neighbour

was spading an onion bed. She knew that presently she would get

out the rake and spade and begin another year's work; but at that

minute she felt too hopeless to move. Adam came and sat on the

step beside her. She looked at him and was surprised at his size

and apparent strength. Someway he gave her hope. He was a good

boy, he had never done a mean, sneaking thing that she knew of.

He was natural, normal, mischievous; but he had not an underhand

inclination that she could discover. He would make a fine-

looking, big man, quite as fine as any of the Bates men; even

Adam, 3d, was no handsomer than the fourth Adam would be. Hope

arose in her with the cool air of spring on her cheek and its wine

in her nostrils. Then out of the clear sky she said it: "Adam,

how long are we going to stay in the beggar class?"

Adam jumped, and turned surprised eyes toward her. Kate was

forced to justify herself.

"Of course we give Aunt Ollie half we raise," she said, "but

anybody would do that. We work hard, and we live little if any

better than Jasons, who have the County Trustee in three times a

winter. I'm big and strong, you're almost a man, why don't we DO

something? Why don't we have some decent clothes, some money for

out work and" -- Kate spoke at random -- "a horse and carriage?"