A Daughter of the Land

Mid-August saw them on their way to Chicago. Kate had taken care

of Mrs. Jardine a few days while Jennie Weeks went home to see her

mother and arrange for her new work. She had no intention of

going back to school teaching. She preferred to brush Mrs.

Jardine's hair, button her shoes, write her letters, and read to

her.

In a month, Jennie had grown so deft at her work and made herself

so appreciated, that she was practically indispensable to the

elderly woman, and therefore the greatest comfort to John.

Immediately he saw that his mother was properly cared for,

sympathetically and even lovingly, he made it his business to

smooth Jennie's path in every way possible. In turn she studied

him, and in many ways made herself useful to him. Often she

looked at him with large and speculative eyes as he sat reading

letters, or papers, or smoking.

The world was all right with Kate when they crossed the sand dunes

as they neared the city. She was sorry about the situation in her

home, but she smiled sardonically as she thought how soon her

father would forget his anger when he heard about the city home

and the kind of farm she could have, merely by consenting to take

it. She was that sure of John Jardine; yet he had not asked her

to marry him. He had seemed on the verge of it a dozen times, and

then had paused as if better judgment told him it would be wise to

wait a little longer. Now Kate had concluded that there was a

definite thing he might be waiting for, since that talk about

land.

She thought possibly she understood what it was. He was a

business man; he knew nothing else; he said so frankly. He wanted

to show her his home, his business, his city, his friends, and

then he required -- he had almost put it into words -- that he be

shown her home and her people. Kate not only acquiesced, she

approved. She wanted to know as much of a man she married as

Nancy Ellen had known, and Robert had taken her to his home and

told his people she was his betrothed wife before he married her.

Kate's eyes were wide open and her brain busy, as they entered a

finely appointed carriage and she heard John say: "Rather sultry.

Home down the lake shore, George." She wished their driver had

not been named "George," but after all it made no difference.

There could not be a commoner name than John, and she knew of but

one that she liked better. For the ensuing three days she lived

in a Lake Shore home of wealth. She watched closely not to trip

in the heavy rugs and carpets. She looked at wonderful paintings

and long shelves of books. She never had touched such china, or

tasted such food or seen so good service. She understood why John

had opposed his mother's undertaking the trip without him, for

everyone in the house seemed busy serving the little woman.