Part 7 (1/2)
”You are not very choicy to begin on second-hand stuff. Nancy Ellen would have had a new one.”
”No doubt!” said Kate. ”But this will do for me.”
Her father lowered his paper and asked harshly: ”What did you buy that thing for?”
Kate gripped the handle and braced herself.
”To pack my clothes in when I go to my school next week,” she said simply.
”What?” he shouted. ”What?” cried her mother.
”I don't know why you seem surprised,” said Kate. ”Surely you knew I went to Normal to prepare myself to teach. Did you think I couldn't find a school?”
”Now look here, young woman,” shouted Adam Bates, ”you are done taking the bit in your teeth. Nancy Ellen is not going to teach this winter.
I have taken the home school for you; you will teach it. That is settled. I have signed the contract. It must be fulfilled.”
”Then Nancy Ellen will have to fulfill it,” said Kate. ”I also have signed a contract that must be fulfilled. I am of age, and you had no authority from me to sign a contract for me.”
For an instant Kate thought there was danger that the purple rush of blood to her father's head might kill him. He opened his mouth, but no distinct words came. Her face paled with fright, but she was of his blood, so she faced him quietly. Her mother was quicker of wit, and sharper of tongue.
”Where did you get a school? Why didn't you wait until you got home?”
she demanded.
”I am going to teach the village school in Walden,” said Kate. ”It is a brick building, has a janitor, I can board reasonably, near my work, and I get twenty dollars more a month than our school pays, while the term is four months longer.”
”Well, it is a pity about that; but it makes no difference,” said her mother. ”Our home school has got to be taught as Pa contracted, and Nancy Ellen has got to have her chance.”
”What about my chance?” asked Kate evenly. ”Not one of the girls, even Exceptional Ability, ever had as good a school or as high wages to start on. If I do well there this winter, I am sure I can get in the Hartley graded schools next fall.”
”Don't you dare nickname your sister,” cried Mrs. Bates, shrilly. ”You stop your impudence and mind your father.”
”Ma, you leave this to me,” said Adam Bates, thickly. Then he glared at Kate as he arose, stretching himself to full height. ”You've signed a contract for a school?” he demanded.
”I have,” said Kate.
”Why didn't you wait until you got home and talked it over with us?” he questioned.
”I went to you to talk over the subject to going,” said Kate. ”You would not even allow me to speak. How was I to know that you would have the slightest interest in what school I took, or where.”
”When did you sign this contract?” he continued.
”Yesterday afternoon, in Hartley,” said Kate.
”Aha! Then I did miss a letter from my pocket. When did you get to be a thief?” he demanded.
”Oh, Father!” cried Kate. ”It was my letter. I could see my name on the envelope. I ASKED you for it, before I took it.”
”From behind my back, like the sneak-thief you are. You are not fit to teach in a school where half the scholars are the children of your brothers and sisters, and you are not fit to live with honest people.
Pack your things and be off!”