A Daughter of the Land

Kate stood breathlessly still, looking at her mother. Mrs. Bates

wiped her eyes. "I ain't so mortal certain," she said, "that I

don't open up on him and take the first word. I think likely I

been defrauded out of more that really counts in this world, than

he has. Ain't that little roly-poly of Hannah's too sweet? Seems

like I'll hardly quit feeling her little sticky hands and her

little hot mouth on my face when I die; and as she went out she

whispered in my ear: 'Do it again, Grandma, Oh, please do it

again!' an it's more'n likely I'll not get the chance, no matter

how willing I am. Kate, I am going to leave you what of my money

is left -- I haven't spent so much -- and while you live here, I

wish each year you would have this same kind of a party and pay

for it out of that money, and call it 'Grandmother's Party.' Will

you?"

"I surely will," said Kate. "And hadn't I better have ALL of

them, and put some little thing from you on the tree for them?

You know how Hiram always was wild for cuff buttons, and Mary

could talk by the hour about a handkerchief with lace on it, and

Andrew never yet has got that copy of 'Aesop's Fables,' he always

wanted. Shall I?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Bates. "Oh, yes, and when you do it, Katie, if

they don't chain me pretty close in on the other side, I think

likely I'll be sticking around as near as I can get to you."

Kate slipped a hot brick rolled in flannel to the cold old feet,

and turning out the light she sat beside the bed and stroked the

tired head until easy breathing told her that her mother was sound

asleep. Then she went back to the fireplace and sitting in the

red glow she told Adam, 3d, PART of what her mother had said.

Long after he was gone, she sat gazing into the slowly graying

coals, her mind busy with what she had NOT told.

That spring was difficult for Kate. Day after day she saw her

mother growing older, feebler, and frailer. And as the body

failed, up flamed the wings of the spirit, carrying her on and on,

each day keeping her alive, when Kate did not see how it could be

done. With all the force she could gather, each day Mrs. Bates

struggled to keep going, denied that she felt badly, drove herself

to try to help about the house and garden. Kate warned the

remainder of the family what they might expect at any hour; but

when they began coming in oftener, bringing little gifts and being

unusually kind, Mrs. Bates endured a few of the visits in silence,

then she turned to Kate and said after her latest callers: "I

wonder what in the name of all possessed ails the folks? Are they

just itching to start my funeral? Can't they stay away until you

send them word that the breath's out of my body?"