A Daughter of the Land

If the spirit of Mrs. Bates hovered among the bloom-whitened apple

trees as her mortal remains were carried past the lilacs and

cabbage rose bushes, through a rain of drifting petals, she must

have been convinced that time had wrought one great change in the

hearts of her children. They had all learned to weep; while if

the tears they shed were a criterion of their feelings for her,

surely her soul must have been satisfied. They laid her away with

simple ceremony and then all of them went to their homes, except

Nancy Ellen and Robert, who stopped in passing to learn if there

was anything they could do for Kate. She was grieving too deeply

for many words; none of them would ever understand the deep bond

of sympathy and companionship that had grown to exist between her

and her mother. She stopped at the front porch and sat down,

feeling unable to enter the house with Nancy Ellen, who was deeply

concerned over the lack of taste displayed in Agatha's new spring

hat. When Kate could endure it no longer she interrupted: "Why

didn't all of them come?"

"What for?" asked Nancy Ellen.

"They had a right to know what Mother had done," said Kate in a

low voice.

"But what was the use?" asked Nancy Ellen. "Adam had been

managing the administrator business for Mother and paying her

taxes with his, of course when she made a deed to you, and had it

recorded, they told him. All of us knew it for two years before

she went after you. And the new furniture was bought with your

money, so it's yours; what was there to have a meeting about?"

"Mother didn't understand that you children knew," said Kate.

"Sometimes I thought there were a lot of things Mother didn't

understand," said Nancy Ellen, "and sometimes I thought she

understood so much more than any of the rest of us, that all of us

would have had a big surprise if we could have seen her brain."

"Yes, I believe we would," said Kate. "Do you mind telling me how

the boys and girls feel about this?"

Nancy Ellen laughed shortly. "Well, the boys feel that you

negotiated such a fine settlement of Father's affairs for them,

that they owe this to you. The girls were pretty sore at first,

and some of them are nursing their wrath yet; but there wasn't a

thing on earth they could do. All of them were perfectly willing

that you should have something -- after the fire -- of course,

most of them thought Mother went too far."

"I think so myself," said Kate. "But she never came near me, or

wrote me, or sent me even one word, until the day she came after

me. I had nothing to do with it --"