A Daughter of the Land

"Don't speak so often of dying," said Kate. "You're all right.

You've been too much alone. You'll feel like yourself as soon as

you get rested."

"I guess I been thinking about it too much," said Mrs. Bates. "I

ain't been so well as I might, an' not being used to it, it

worries me some. I got to buck up. The one thing I CAN'T do is

to die; but I'm most tired enough to do it right now. I'll be

glad when we get home."

Kate drove carefully, but as fast as she dared with her load. As

they neared Bates Corners, the way became more familiar each mile.

Kate forgot the children, forgot her mother, forgot ten years of

disappointment and failure, and began a struggle to realize what

was happening to her now. The lines slipped down, the horse

walked slowly, the first thing she knew, big hot tears splashed on

her hand. She gathered up the lines, drew a deep breath, and

glanced at her mother, meeting her eye fairly. Kate tried to

smile, but her lips were quivering.

"Glad, Katie?" asked Mrs. Bates.

Kate nodded.

"Me, too!" said Mrs. Bates.

They passed the orchard.

"There's the house, there, Polly!" cried Adam.

"Why, Adam, how did you know the place?" asked Kate, turning.

Adam hesitated a second. "Ain't you told us times a-plenty about

the house and the lilac, and the snowball bush -- " "Yes, and the

cabbage roses," added Polly.

"So I have," said Kate. "Mostly last winter when we were

knitting. Yes, this will be home for all the rest of our lives.

Isn't it grand? How will we ever thank Grandmother? How will we

ever be good enough to pay her?"

Both children thought this a hint, so with one accord they arose

and fell on Mrs. Bates' back, and began to pay at once in coin of

childhood.

"There, there," said Kate, drawing them away as she stopped the

horse at the gate. "There, there, you will choke Grandmother."

Mrs. Bates pushed Kate's arm down.

"Mind your own business, will you?" she said. "I ain't so feeble

that I can't speak for myself awhile yet."

In a daze Kate climbed down, and ran to bring a chair to help her

mother. The children were boisterously half eating Mrs. Bates up;

she had both of them in her arms, with every outward evidence of

enjoying the performance immensely. That was a very busy evening,

for the wagon was to be unpacked; all of them were hungry, while

the stock was to be fed, and the milking done. Mrs. Bates and

Polly attempted supper; Kate and Adam went to the barn; but they

worked very hurriedly, for Kate could see how feeble her mother

had grown.

When at last the children were bathed and in bed, Kate and her

mother sat on the little front porch to smell spring a few minutes

before going to rest. Kate reached over and took her mother's

hand.