"FOR A GOOD GIRL"
FOR a week, Kate lay so dazed she did not care whether she lived or
died; then she slowly crept back to life, realizing that whether she
cared or not, she must live. She was too young, too strong, to quit
because she was soul sick; she had to go on. She had life to face for
herself and her children. She wondered dully about her people, but as
none of the neighbours who had taken care of her said anything
concerning them, she realized that they had not been there. At first
she was almost glad. They were forthright people. They would have had
something to say; they would have said it tersely and to the point.
Adam, 3d, had wound up her affairs speedily by selling the logs he had
bought for her to the Hartley mills, paying what she owed, and
depositing the remainder in the Hartley Bank to her credit; but that
remainder was less than one hundred dollars. That winter was a long,
dreadful nightmare to Kate. Had it not been for Aunt Ollie, they would
have been hungry some of the time; they were cold most of it. For
weeks Kate thought of sending for her mother, or going to her; then as
not even a line came from any of her family, she realized that they
resented her losing that much Bates money so bitterly that they wished
to have nothing to do with her. Often she sat for hours staring
straight before her, trying to straighten out the tangle she had made
of her life. As if she had not suffered enough in the reality of
living, she now lived over in day and night dreams, hour by hour, her
time with George Holt, and gained nothing thereby.
All winter Kate brooded, barely managing to keep alive, and the
children in school. As spring opened, she shook herself, arose, and
went to work. It was not planned, systematic, effective, Bates work.
Piecemeal she did anything she saw needed the doing. The children
helped to make garden and clean the yard. Then all of them went out to
Aunt Ollie's and made a contract to plant and raise potatoes and
vegetables on shares. They passed a neglected garden on the way, and
learning that the woman of the house was ill, Kate stopped and offered
to tend it for enough cords of windfall wood to pay her a fair price,
this to be delivered in mid-summer.
With food and fire assured, Kate ripped up some of George's clothing,
washed, pressed, turned, and made Adam warm clothes for school. She
even achieved a dress for Polly by making a front and back from a pair
of her father's trouser legs, and setting in side pieces, a yoke and
sleeves from one of her old skirts. George's underclothing she cut
down for both of the children; then drew another check for taxes and
second-hand books. While she was in Hartley in the fall paying taxes,
she stopped at a dry goods store for thread, and heard a customer
asking for knitted mittens, which were not in stock. After he had
gone, she arranged with the merchant for a supply of yarn which she
carried home and began to knit into mittens such as had been called
for. She used every minute of leisure during the day, she worked hours
into the night, and soon small sums began coming her way. When she had
a supply of teamster's heavy mittens, she began on fancy coloured ones
for babies and children, sometimes crocheting, sometimes using needles.
Soon she started both children on the rougher work with her. They were
glad to help for they had a lively remembrance of one winter of cold
and hunger, with no Christmas. That there were many things she might
have done that would have made more money with less exertion Kate never
seemed to realize. She did the obvious thing. Her brain power seemed
to be on a level with that of Adam and Polly.
When the children began to carry home Christmas talk, Kate opened her
mouth to say the things that had been said to her as a child; then
tightly closed it. She began getting up earlier, sitting up later,
knitting feverishly. Luckily the merchant could sell all she could
furnish. As the time drew nearer, she gathered from the talk of the
children what was the deepest desire of their hearts. One day a heavy
wind driving ice-coated trees in the back yard broke quite a large limb
from a cherry tree. Kate dragged it into the woodhouse to make
firewood. She leaned it against the wall to wait until the ice melted,
and as it stood there in its silvery coat, she thought how like a small
tree the branch was shaped, and how pretty it looked. After the
children had gone to school the next day she shaped it with the hatchet
and saw, and fastened it in a small box. This she carried to her
bedroom and locked the door. She had not much idea what she was going
to do, but she kept thinking. Soon she found enough time to wrap every
branch carefully with the red tissue paper her red knitting wool came
in, and to cover the box smoothly. Then she thought of the country
Christmas trees she had seen decorated with popcorn and cranberries.
She popped the corn at night and the following day made a trip up the
ravine, where she gathered all the bittersweet berries, swamp holly,
and wild rose seed heads she could find. She strung the corn on fine
cotton cord putting a rose seed pod between each grain, then used the
bittersweet berries to terminate the blunt ends of the branches, and
climb up the trunk. By the time she had finished this she was really
interested. She achieved a gold star for the top from a box lid and a
piece of gilt paper Polly had carried home from school. With yarn ends
and mosquito netting, she whipped up a few little mittens, stockings,
and bags. She cracked nuts from their fall store and melting a little
sugar stirred in the kernels until they were covered with a sweet,
white glaze. Then she made some hard candy, and some fancy cookies
with a few sticks of striped candy cut in circles and dotted on the
top. She polished red, yellow, and green apples and set them under the
tree.
When she made her final trip to Hartley before Christmas the spirit of
the day was in the air. She breathed so much of it that she paid a
dollar and a half for a stout sled and ten cents for a dozen little red
candles, five each for two oranges, and fifteen each for two pretty
little books, then after long hesitation added a doll for Polly. She
felt that she should not have done this, and said so, to herself; but
knew if she had it to do over, she would do the same thing again. She
shook her shoulders and took the first step toward regaining her old
self-confidence.
"Pshaw! Big and strong as I am, and Adam getting such a great boy, we
can make it," she said. Then she hurried to the hack and was driven
home barely in time to rush her bundles into her room before school was
out. She could scarcely wait until the children were in bed to open
the parcels. The doll had to be dressed, but Kate was interested in
Christmas by that time, and so contemplated the spider-waisted image
with real affection. She never had owned a doll herself. She let the
knitting go that night, and cut up an old waist to make white
under-clothing with touches of lace, and a pretty dress. Then Kate
went to her room, tied the doll in a safe place on the tree, put on the
books, and set the candles with pins. As she worked she kept biting
her lips, but when it was all finished she thought it was lovely, and
so it was. As she set the sled in front of the tree she said: "There,
little folks, I wonder what you will think of that! It's the best I
can do. I've a nice chicken to roast; now if only, if only Mother or
Nancy Ellen would come, or write a line, or merely send one word by
Tilly Nepple."
Suddenly Kate lay down on the bed, buried her face in the pillow while
her shoulders jerked and shook in dry sobs for a long time. At last she
arose, went to the kitchen, bathed her face, and banked the fires. "I
suppose it is the Bates way," she said, "but it's a cold, hard
proposition. I know what's the matter with all of them. They are
afraid to come near me, or show the slightest friendliness, for fear
I'll ask them to help support us. They needn't worry, we can take care
of ourselves."
She set her tree on the living room table, arranged everything to the
best advantage, laid a fire in the stove, and went to sleep Christmas
eve, feeling more like herself than she had since the explosion.
Christmas morning she had the house warm and the tree ready to light
while the children dressed. She slipped away their every-day clothing
and laid out their best instead. She could hear them talking as they
dressed, and knew the change of clothing had filled them with hope.
She hastily lighted the tree, and was setting the table as they entered
the dining room.
"Merry Christmas, little people," she cried in a voice they had not
heard in a long time. They both rushed to her and Kate's heart stood
still as they each hugged her tight, kissed her, and offered a tiny
packet. From the size and feeling of these, she realized that they
were giving her the candy they had received the day before at school.
Surprises were coming thick and fast with Kate. That one shook her to
her foundations. They loved candy. They had so little! They had
nothing else to give. She held them an instant so tightly they were
surprised at her, then she told them to lay the packages on the living
room table until after breakfast. Polly opened the door, and screamed.
Adam ran, and then both of them stood silently before the brave little
tree, flaming red, touched with white, its gold star shining. They
looked at it, and then at each other, while Kate, watching at an angle
across the dining room, distinctly heard Polly say in an awed tone:
"Adam, hadn't we better pray?"
Kate lifted herself full height, and drew a deep breath. "Well, I
guess I manage a little Christmas after this," she said, "and maybe a
Fourth of July, and a birthday, and a few other things. I needn't be
such a coward. I believe I can make it."
From that hour she began trying to think of something she could do that
would bring returns more nearly commensurate with the time and strength
she was spending. She felt tied to Walden because she owned the house,
and could rely on working on shares with Aunt Ollie for winter food;
but there was nothing she could do there and take care of the children
that would bring more than the most meagre living. Still they were
living, each year more comfortably; the children were growing bigger
and stronger; soon they could help at something, if only she could
think what. The time flew, each day a repetition of yesterday's
dogged, soul-tiring grind, until some days Kate was close to despair.
Each day the house grew shabbier; things wore out and could not be
replaced; poverty showed itself more plainly. So three more years of
life in Walden passed, setting their indelible mark on Kate. Time and
again she almost broke the spell that bound her, but she never quite
reached the place where her thought cleared, her heart regained its
courage, her soul dared take wing, and try another flight. When she
thought of it, "I don't so much mind the falling," said Kate to
herself; "but I do seem to select the hardest spots to light on."
Kate sat on the back steps, the sun shone, her nearest neighbour was
spading an onion bed. She knew that presently she would get out the
rake and spade and begin another year's work; but at that minute she
felt too hopeless to move. Adam came and sat on the step beside her.
She looked at him and was surprised at his size and apparent strength.
Someway he gave her hope. He was a good boy, he had never done a mean,
sneaking thing that she knew of. He was natural, normal, mischievous;
but he had not an underhand inclination that she could discover. He
would make a fine-looking, big man, quite as fine as any of the Bates
men; even Adam, 3d, was no handsomer than the fourth Adam would be.
Hope arose in her with the cool air of spring on her cheek and its wine
in her nostrils. Then out of the clear sky she said it: "Adam, how
long are we going to stay in the beggar class?"
Adam jumped, and turned surprised eyes toward her. Kate was forced to
justify herself.
"Of course we give Aunt Ollie half we raise," she said, "but anybody
would do that. We work hard, and we live little if any better than
Jasons, who have the County Trustee in three times a winter. I'm big
and strong, you're almost a man, why don't we DO something? Why don't
we have some decent clothes, some money for out work and"--Kate spoke
at random--"a horse and carriage?"
"A horse and carriage?" repeated Adam, staring at her.
"Why not?" said Kate, casually.
"But how?" cried the amazed boy.
"Why, earn the money, and buy it!" said Kate, impatiently. "I'm about
fed up on earning cabbage, and potatoes, and skirmishing for wood. I'd
prefer to have a dollar in my pocket, and BUY what we need. Can't you
use your brain and help me figure out a way to earn some MONEY?"
"I meant to pretty soon now, but I thought I had to go to school a few
years yet," he said.
"Of course you do," said Kate. "I must earn the money, but can't you
help me think how?"
"Sure," said Adam, sitting straight and seeming thoughtful, "but give
me a little time. What would you--could you, do?"
"I taught before I was married," said Kate; "but methods of teaching
change so I'd have to have a Normal term to qualify for even this
school. I could put you and Polly with Aunt Ollie this summer; but I
wouldn't, not if we must freeze and starve together--"
"Because of Grandma?" asked the boy. Kate nodded.
"I borrowed money to go once, and I could again; but I have been away
from teaching so long, and I don't know what to do with you children.
The thing I would LIKE would be to find a piece of land somewhere, with
a house, any kind of one on it, and take it to rent. Land is about all
I really know. Working for money would be of some interest. I am so
dead tired working for potatoes. Sometimes I see them flying around in
the air at night."
"Do you know of any place you would like?" asked Adam.
"No, I don't," said Kate, "but I am going to begin asking and I'm going
to keep my eyes open. I heard yesterday that Dr. James intends to
build a new house. This house is nothing, but the lot is in the
prettiest place in town. Let's sell it to him, and take the money, and
buy us some new furniture and a cow, and a team, and wagon, and a
buggy, and go on a piece of land, and live like other people. Seems to
me I'll die if I have to work for potatoes any longer. I'm heart sick
of them. Don't say a word to anybody, but Oh, Adam, THINK! Think
HARD! Can't you just help me THINK?"
"You are sure you want land?" asked the boy.
"It is all I know," said Kate. "How do you feel about it?"
"I want horses, and cows, and pigs--lots of pigs--and sheep, and lots
of white hens," said Adam, promptly.
"Get the spade and spade the onion bed until I think," said Kate. "And
that reminds me, we didn't divide the sets last fall. Somebody will
have to go after them."
"I'll go," said Adam, "but it's awful early. It'll snow again. Let me
go after school Friday and stay over night. I'd like to go and stay
over night with Aunt Ollie. Grandma can't say anything to me that I'll
listen to. You keep Polly, and let me go alone. Sure I can."
"All right," said Kate. "Spade the bed, and let it warm a day. It will
be good for it. But don't tell Polly you're going, or she'll want to
go along."
Until Friday night, Kate and Adam went around in such a daze of deep
thought that they stumbled, and ran against each other; then came back
to their affairs suddenly, looking at each other and smiling
understandingly. After one of these encounters Kate said to the boy:
"You may not arrive at anything, Adam, but I certainly can't complain
that you are not thinking."
Adam grinned: "I'm not so sure that I haven't got it," he said.
"Tell me quick and let me think, too" said Kate.
"But I can't tell you yet," said Adam. "I have to find out something
first."
Friday evening he wanted to put off his trip until Saturday morning, so
Kate agreed. She was surprised when he bathed and put on his clean
shirt and trousers, but said not a word. She had made some study of
child psychology, she thought making the trip alone was of so much
importance to Adam that he was dressing for the occasion. She foresaw
extra washing, yet she said nothing to stop the lad. She waved
good-bye to him, thinking how sturdy and good looking he was, as he ran
out of the front door. Kate was beginning to be worried when Adam had
not returned toward dusk Sunday evening, and Polly was cross and
fretful. Finally they saw him coming down the ravine bank, carrying
his small bundle of sets. Kate felt a glow of relief; Polly ran to
meet him. Kate watched as they met and saw Adam take Polly's hand.
"If only they looked as much alike as some twins do, I'd be thankful,"
said Kate.
Adam delivered the sets, said Aunt Ollie and Grandma were all right,
that it was an awful long walk, and he was tired. Kate noticed that
his feet were dust covered, but his clothes were so clean she said to
him: "You didn't fish much."
"I didn't fish any," said Adam, "not like I always fish," he added.
"Had any time to THINK?" asked Kate.
"You just bet I did," said the boy. "I didn't waste a minute."
"Neither did I," said Kate. "I know exactly what the prettiest lot in
town can be sold for."
"Good!" cried Adam. "Fine!"
Monday Kate wanted to get up early and stick the sets, but Adam
insisted that Aunt Ollie said the sign would not be right until
Wednesday. If they were stuck on Monday or Tuesday, they would all
grow to top.
"My goodness! I knew that," said Kate. "I am thinking so hard I'm
losing what little sense I had; but anyway, mere thinking is doing me a
world of good. I am beginning to feel a kind of rising joy inside, and
I can't imagine anything else that makes it."
Adam went to school, laughing. Kate did the washing and ironing, and
worked in the garden getting beds ready. Tuesday she was at the same
occupation, when about ten o'clock she dropped her spade and
straightened, a flash of perfect amazement crossing her face. She stood
immovable save for swaying forward in an attitude of tense listening.
"Hoo! hoo!"
Kate ran across the yard and as she turned the corner of the house she
saw a one-horse spring wagon standing before the gate, while a stiff,
gaunt figure sat bolt upright on the seat, holding the lines. Kate was
at the wheel looking up with a face of delighted amazement.
"Why, Mother!" she cried. "Why, Mother!"
"Go fetch a chair and help me down," said Mrs. Bates, "this seat is
getting tarnation hard."
Kate ran after a chair, and helped her mother to alight. Mrs. Bates
promptly took the chair, on the sidewalk.
"Just drop the thills," she said. "Lead him back and slip on the
halter. It's there with his feed."
Kate followed instructions, her heart beating wildly. Several times
she ventured a quick glance at her mother. How she had aged! How
lined and thin she was! But Oh, how blessed good it was to see her!
Mrs. Bates arose and they walked into the house, where she looked
keenly around, while her sharp eyes seemed to appraise everything as
she sat down and removed her bonnet.
"Go fetch me a drink," she said, "and take the horse one and then I'll
tell you why I came."
"I don't care why you came," said Kate, "but Oh, Mother, thank God you
are here!"
"Now, now, don't get het up!" cautioned Mrs. Bates. "Water, I said."
Kate hurried to obey orders; then she sank on a chair and looked at her
mother. Mrs. Bates wiped her face and settled in the chair comfortably.
"They's no use to waste words," she said. "Katie, you're the only one
in the family that has any sense, and sometimes you ain't got enough
so's you could notice it without a magnifyin' glass; but even so,
you're ahead of the rest of them. Katie, I'm sick an' tired of the
Neppleses and the Whistlers and being bossed by the whole endurin'
Bates tribe; sick and tired of it, so I just came after you."
"Came after me?" repeated Kate stupidly.
"Yes, parrot, 'came after you,'" said Mrs. Bates. "I told you, you'd
no great amount of sense. I'm speakin' plain, ain't I? I don't see
much here to hold you. I want you should throw a few traps, whatever
you are beholden to, in the wagon--that's why I brought it--and come on
home and take care of me the rest of my time. It won't be so long; I
won't interfere much, nor be much bother. I've kep' the place in
order, but I'm about fashed. I won't admit it to the rest of them; but
I don't seem to mind telling you, Katie, that I am almost winded. Will
you come?"
"Of course I will," said Kate, a tide of effulgent joy surging up in
her heart until it almost choked her. "Of course I will, Mother, but
my children, won't they worry you?"
"Never having had a child about, I s'pect likely they may," said Mrs.
Bates, dryly. "Why, you little fool! I think likely it's the children
I am pinin' for most, though I couldn't a-stood it much longer without
YOU. Will you get ready and come with me to-day?"
"Yes," said Kate, "if I can make it. There's very little here I care
for; I can have the second-hand man give me what he will for the rest;
and I can get a good price for the lot to-day, if I say so. Dr. James
wants it to build on. I'll go and do the very best I can, and when you
don't want me any longer, Adam will be bigger and we can look out for
ourselves. Yes, I'll get ready at once if you want me to."
"Not much of a haggler, are you, Katie?" said Mrs. Bates. "Why don't
you ask what rooms you're to have, and what I'll pay you, and how much
work you'll have to do, and if you take charge of the farm, and how we
share up?"
Kate laughed: "Mother," she said, "I have been going to school here,
with the Master of Life for a teacher; and I've learned so many things
that really count, that I know now NONE of the things you mention are
essential. You may keep the answers to all those questions; I don't
care a cent about any of them. If you want me, and want the children,
all those things will settle themselves as we come to them. I didn't
use to understand you; but we got well enough acquainted at Father's
funeral, and I do, now. Whatever you do will be fair, just, and right.
I'll obey you, as I shall expect Adam and Polly to."
"Well, for lands sakes, Katie," said Mrs. Bates. "Life must a-been
weltin' it to you good and proper. I never expected to see you as meek
as Moses. That Holt man wasn't big enough to beat you, was he?"
"The ways in which he 'beat' me no Bates would understand. I had eight
years of them, and I don't understand them yet; but I am so cooked with
them, that I shall be wild with joy if you truly mean for me to pack up
and come home with you for awhile."
"Oh, Lordy, Katie!" said Mrs. Bates. "This whipped out,
take-anything-anyway style ain't becomin' to a big, fine, upstanding
woman like you. Hold up your head, child! Hold up your head, and say
what you want, an' how you want it!"
"Honestly, Mother, I don't want a thing on earth but to go home with
you and do as you say for the next ten years," said Kate.
"Stiffen up!" cried Mrs. Bates. "Stiffen up!" "Don't be no broken
reed, Katie! I don't want you dependin' on ME; I came to see if you
would let ME lean on YOU the rest of the way. I wa'n't figuring that
there was anything on this earth that could get you down; so's I was
calculatin' you'd be the very one to hold me up. Since you seem to be
feeling unaccountably weak in the knees, let's see if we can brace them
a little. Livin' with Pa so long must kind of given me a tendency
toward nussin' a deed. I've got one here I had executed two years ago,
and I was a coming with it along about now, when 'a little bird tole
me' to come to-day, so here I am. Take that, Katie."
Mrs. Bates pulled a long sealed envelope from the front of her dress
and tossed it in Kate's lap.
"Mother, what is this?" asked Kate in a hushed voice.
"Well, if you'd rather use your ears than your eyes, it's all the same
to me," said Mrs. Bates. "The boys always had a mortal itchin' to get
their fingers on the papers in the case. I can't say I don't like the
difference; and I've give you every chance, too, an you WOULDN'T
demand, you WOULDN'T specify. Well, I'll just specify myself. I'm
dead tired of the neighbours taking care of me, and all of the children
stoppin' every time they pass, each one orderin' or insinuatin'
according to their lights, as to what I should do. I've always had a
purty clear idea of what I wanted to do myself. Over forty years, I
sided with Pa, to keep the peace; NOW I reckon I'm free to do as I
like. That's my side. You can tell me yours, now."
Kate shook her head: "I have nothing to say."
"Jest as well," said Mrs. Bates. "Re-hashing don't do any good. Come
back, and come to-day; but stiffen up. That paper you are holding is a
warrantee deed to the home two hundred to you and your children after
you. You take possession to-day. There's money in the bank to paper,
an' paint, and make any little changes you'd like, such as cutting
doors or windows different places, floorin' the kitchen new, or the
like. Take it an' welcome. I got more 'an enough to last me all my
days; all I ask of you is my room, my food, and your company. Take the
farm, and do what you pretty please with it."
"But, Mother!" cried Kate. "The rest of them! They'd tear me limb for
limb. I don't DARE take this."
"Oh, don't you?" asked Mrs. Bates. "Well, I still stand for quite a
bit at Bates Corners, and I say you WILL take that farm, and run it as
you like. It is mine, I give it to you. We all know it wasn't your
fault you lost your money, though it was a dose it took some of us a
good long time to swallow. You are the only one out of your share; you
settled things fine for the rest of them; and they all know it, and
feel it. You'll never know what you did for me the way you put me
through Pa's funeral; now if you'll just shut up, and stick that deed
somewhere it won't burn, and come home an' plant me as successfully as
you did Pa, you'll have earned all you'll get, an' something coming.
Now set us out a bite to eat, and let's be off."
Kate slowly arose and handed back the deed.
"I'll be flying around so lively I might lose that," she said, "you put
it where you had it, till we get to Hartley, and then I'll get a place
in the bank vault for it. I can't quite take this in, just yet, but
you know I'll do my best for you, Mother!"
"Tain't likely I'd be here else," said Mrs. Bates, "and tea, Katie. A
cup of good strong hot tea would fix me up about proper, right now."
Kate went to the kitchen and began setting everything she had to eat on
the table. As she worked Polly came flying in the door crying:
"Mother, who has come?" so Kate stepped toward the living room to show
the child to her grandmother and as she advanced she saw a queer thing.
Adam was sitting on his grandmother's lap. Her arms were tight around
him, her face buried in his crisp hair, and he was patting her shoulder
and telling her he would take care of her, while her voice said
distinctly: "Of course you will, birdie!" Then the lad and the old
woman laid their heads together and laughed almost hysterically.
"WELL, IF THAT ISN'T QUICK WORK!" said Kate to herself. Then she
presented Polly, who followed Adam's lead in hugging the stranger first
and looking at her afterward. God bless all little children. Then
Adam ran to tell the second-hand man to come at one o'clock and Dr.
James that he might have the keys at three. They ate hurriedly. Kate
set out what she wished to save; the children carried things to the
wagon; she packed while they ran after their books, and at three
o'clock all of them climbed into the spring wagon, and started to Bates
Corners.
Kate was the last one in. As she climbed on the seat beside her mother
and took the lines, she handed Mrs. Bates a small china mug to hold for
her. It was decorated with a very fat robin and on a banner floating
from its beak was inscribed: "For a Good Girl."