A Daughter of the Land

Polly and Kate had a long day together, while Adam was about the

house much of the time. Both of them said and did everything they

could think of to cheer and comfort Polly, whose spirits seemed

most variable. One minute she would be laughing and planning for

the summer gaily, the next she would be gloomy and depressed, and

declaring she never would live through the birth of her baby. If

she had appeared well, this would not have worried Kate; but she

looked even sicker than she seemed to feel. She was thin while

her hands were hot and tremulous. As the afternoon went on and

time to go came nearer, she grew more and more despondent, until

Kate proposed watching when the Peters family came home, calling

them up, and telling them that Polly was there, would remain all

night, and that Henry should come down.

Polly flatly vetoed the proposition, but she seemed to feel much

better after it had been made. She was like herself again for a

short time, and then she turned to Kate and said suddenly:

"Mother, if I don't get over this, will you take my baby?"

Kate looked at Polly intently. What she saw stopped the ready

answer that was on her lips. She stood thinking deeply. At last

she said gently: "Why, Polly, would you want to trust a tiny baby

with a woman you ran away from yourself?"

"Mother, I haven't asked you to forgive me for the light I put you

in before the neighbours," said Polly, "because I knew you

couldn't honestly do it, and wouldn't lie to say you did. I don't

know WHAT made me do that. I was TIRED staying alone at the house

so much, I was WILD about Henry, I was BOUND I wouldn't leave him

and go away to school. I just thought it would settle everything

easily and quickly. I never once thought of how it would make you

look and feel. Honestly I didn't, Mother. You believe me, don't

you?"

"Yes, I believe you," said Kate.

"It was an awful thing for me to do," said Polly. "I was foolish

and crazy, and I suppose I shouldn't say it, but I certainly did

have a lot of encouragement from the Peters family. They all

seemed to think it would be a great joke, that it wouldn't make

any difference, and all that, so I just did it. I knew I

shouldn't have done it; but, Mother, you'll never know the fight

I've had all my life to keep from telling stories and sneaking. I

hated your everlasting: 'Now be careful,' but when I hated it

most, I needed it worst; and I knew it, when I grew older. If

only you had been here to say, 'Now be careful,' just once, I

never would have done it; but of course I couldn't have you to

keep me straight all my life. All I can say is that I'd give my

life and never whimper, if I could be back home as I was this time

last year, and have a chance to do things your way. But that is

past, and I can't change it. What I came for to-day, and what I

want to know now is, if I go, will you take my baby?"