Part 46 (2/2)
”We'll come often,” he said as he turned to go back.
Kate slowly walked up the path, dreading to meet Adam. He evidently had been watching for her, for he came around the corner of the house, took her arm, and they walked up the steps and into the living room together. She looked at him; he looked at her. At last he said: ”I'm afraid that a good deal of this is my fault, Mother.”
”How so?” asked Kate, tersely.
”I guess I betrayed your trust in me,” said Adam, heavily. ”Of course I did all my work and attended to things; but in the evening after work was over, the very first evening on the way home we stopped to talk to Henry at the gate, and he got in and came on down. We could see Milly at their gate, and I wanted her, I wanted her so much, Mother; and it was going to be lonesome, so all of us went on there, and she came up here and we sat on the porch, and then I took her home and that left Henry and Polly together. The next night Henry took us to town for a treat, and we were all together, and the next night Milly asked us all there, and so it went. It was all as open and innocent as it could be; only Henry and Polly were in awful earnest and she was bound she wouldn't be sent to town to school--”
”Why didn't she tell me so? She never objected a word, to me,” said Kate.
”Well, Mother, you are so big, and Polly was so little, and she was used to minding--”
”Yes, this looks like it,” said Kate. ”Well, go on!”
”That's all,” said Adam. ”It was only that instead of staying at home and attending to our own affairs we were somewhere every night, or Milly and Henry were here. That is where I was to blame. I'm afraid you'll never forgive me, Mother; but I didn't take good care of Sister.
I left her to Henry Peters, while I tried to see how nice I could be to Milly. I didn't know what Polly and Henry were planning; honest, I didn't, Mother. I would have told Uncle Robert and sent for you if I had. I thought when I went there it was to be our little crowd like it was at York's. I was furious when I found they were married. I told Mr. and Mrs. Peters what they were, right before the company, and then I came straight home and all the family, and York's, and most of the others, came straight away. Only a few stayed to the supper. I was so angry with Polly I just pushed her away, and didn't even say good-night to her. The little silly fool! Mother, if she had told you, you would have let her stay at home this winter and got her clothing, and let her be married here, when she was old enough, wouldn't you?”
”Certainly!” said Kate. ”All the world knows that. Bates all marry; and they all marry young. Don't blame yourself, Adam. If Polly had it in her system to do this, and she did, or she wouldn't have done it, the thing would have happened when I was here, and right under my nose.
It was a scheme all planned and ready before I left. I know that now.
Let it go! There's nothing we can do, until things begin to go WRONG, as they always do in this kind of wedding; then we shall get our call.
In the meantime, you mustn't push your sister away. She may need you sooner than you'd think; and will you just please have enough confidence in my common sense and love for you, to come to me, FIRST, when you feel that there's a girl who is indispensable to your future, Adam?”
”Yes, I will,” said Adam. ”And it won't be long, and the girl will be Milly York.”
”All right,” said Kate, gravely, ”whenever the time comes, let me know about it. Now see if you can find me something to eat till I lay off my hat and wash. It was a long, hot ride, and I'm tired. Since there's nothing I can do, I wish I had stayed where I was. No, I don't, either!
I see joy coming over the hill for Nancy Ellen.”
”Why is joy coming to Nancy Ellen?” asked the boy, pausing an instant before he started to the kitchen.
”Oh, because she's had such a very tough, uncomfortable time with life,” said Kate, ”that in the very nature of things joy SHOULD come her way.”
The boy stood mystified until the expression on his face so amused Kate that she began laughing, then he understood.
”That's WHY it's coming,” said Kate; ”and, here's HOW it's coming. She is going to get rid of a bothersome worry that's troubling her head--and she's going to have a very splendid gift, but it's a deep secret.”
”Then you'll have to whisper it,” said Adam, going to her and holding a convenient ear. Kate rested her hands on his shoulder a minute, as she leaned on him, her face buried in his crisp black hair. Then she whispered the secret.
”Crickey, isn't that grand!” cried the boy, backing away to stare at her.
”Yes, it is so grand I'm going to try it ourselves,” said Kate. ”We've a pretty snug balance in the bank, and I think it would be great fun evenings or when we want to go to town in a hurry and the horses are tired.”
Adam was slowly moving toward the kitchen, his face more of a study than before.
”Mother,” he said as he reached the door, ”I be hanged if I know how to take you! I thought you'd just raise Cain over what Polly has done; but you act so sane and sensible; someway it doesn't seem so bad as it did, and I feel more sorry for Polly than like going back on her. And are you truly in earnest about a car?”
”I'm going to think very seriously about it this winter, and I feel almost sure it will come true by early spring,” said Kate. ”But who said anything about 'going back on Polly?'”
<script>