A Daughter of the Land

"I was just telling my son," Mrs. Holt said rather breathlessly,

"that I would take a peep and see if I had forgot to put your

extra covers on the shelf."

Kate threw her book on the bed and walked to the table. She had

experienced her share of battle for the day. "No children to

rummage," passed through her brain. It was the final week of hot,

dry August weather, while a point had been made of calling her

attention to the extra cover when the room had been shown her.

She might have said these things, but why say them? The shamed

face of the woman convicted her of "rummaging," as she had termed

it. Without a word Kate sat down beside the table, drew her

writing material before her, and began addressing an envelope to

her brother Hiram. Mrs. Holt left the room, disliking Kate more

than if she had said what the woman knew she thought.

Kate wrote briefly, convincingly, covering every objection and

every advantage she could conceive, and then she added the

strongest plea she could make. What Hiram would do, she had no

idea. As with all Bates men, land was his God, but it required

money to improve it. He would feel timid about making a first

attempt to teach after he was married and a father of a child, but

Nancy Ellen's marriage would furnish plausible excuse; all of the

family had done their school work as perfectly as all work they

undertook; he could teach if he wanted to; would he want to? If

he did, at least, she would be sure of the continued friendship of

her sister and Robert Gray. Suddenly Kate understood what that

meant to her as she had not realized before. She was making long

strides toward understanding herself, which is the most important

feature of any life.

She sent a line of pleading to her sister-in-law, a word of love

to the baby, and finishing her letter, started to post it, as she

remembered the office was only a few steps down the street. In

the hall it occurred to her that she was the "Teacher" now, and so

should be an example. Possibly the women of Walden did not run

bareheaded down the street on errands. She laid the letter on a

small shelf of an old hatrack, and stepped back to her room to put

on her hat. Her return was so immediate that Mrs. Holt had the

letter in her fingers when Kate came back, and was reading the

address so intently, that with extended hand, the girl said in

cold tones: "My letter, please!" before the woman realized she

was there. Their eyes met in a level look. Mrs. Holt's mouth

opened in ready excuse, but this time Kate's temper overcame her

better judgment.