A Daughter of the Land

On her old pink quilt Little Poll, sound asleep, was lifted from

the shade of one shock to another, while Kate worked across her

share of the field. As she worked she kept looking at the child.

She frankly adored her, but she kept her reason and held to rigid

rules in feeding, bathing, and dressing. Poll minded even a

gesture or a nod.

Above, the flocking larks pierced the air with silver notes, on

the fence-rows the gathering robins called to each other; high in

the air the old black vulture that homed in a hollow log in Kate's

woods, looked down on the spots of colour made by the pink quilt,

the gold corn, the blue of Kate's dress, and her yellow head. An

artist would have paused long, over the rich colour, the grouping

and perspective of that picture, while the hazy fall atmosphere

softened and blended the whole. Kate, herself, never had appeared

or felt better. She worked rapidly, often glancing across the

field to see if she was even with, or slightly in advance of Adam.

She said it would never do to let the boy get "heady," so she made

a point of keeping even with him, and caring for Little Poll, "for

good measure."

She was smiling as she watched him working like a machine as he

ripped open husks, gave the ear a twist, tossed it aside, and

reached for the next. Kate was doing the same thing, quite as

automatically. She was beginning to find the afternoon sun almost

hot on her bare head, so she turned until it fell on her back.

Her face was flushed to coral pink, and framed in a loose border

of her beautiful hair. She was smiling at the thought of how Adam

was working to get ahead of her, smiling because Little Poll

looked such a picture of healthy loveliness, smiling because she

was so well, she felt super-abundant health rising like a

stimulating tide in her body, smiling because the corn was the

finest she ever had seen in a commonly cultivated field, smiling

because she and Adam were of one accord about everything, smiling

because the day was very beautiful, because her heart was at

peace, her conscience clear.

She heard a car stop at her gate, saw a man alight and start

across the yard toward the field, and knew that her visitor had

seen her, and was coming to her. Kate went on husking corn and

when the man swung over the fence of the field she saw that he was

Robert, and instantly thought of Mrs. Southey, so she ceased to

smile. "I've got a big notion to tell him what I think of him,"

she said to herself, even as she looked up to greet him.

Instantly she saw that he had come for something.