"Yes, aren't I?" laughed Kate. "But you just give me a tub of hot
soapsuds and an hour, and you won't know me. How are you? Things
look as if you were expecting us."
"Hump!" said Mrs. Holt.
Kate laughed and went into the house. George stepped in front of
his mother.
"Now you look here," he said. "I know every nasty thing your mind
has conjured up that you'd LIKE to say, and have other folks say,
about Kate. And I know as well as if you were honest enough to
tell me, that you haven't been able to root out one living soul
who would say a single word against her. Swallow your secret!
Swallow your suspicions! Swallow your venom, and forget all of
them. Kate is as fine a woman as God ever made, and anybody who
has common sense knows it. She can just MAKE me, if she wants to,
and she will; she's coming on fine, much faster and better than I
hoped for. Now you drop this! Stop it! Do you hear?"
He passed her and hurried up the walk. In an hour, both George
and Kate had bathed and dressed in their very best. Kate put on
her prettiest white dress and George his graduation suit. Then
together they walked to the post office for their mail, which
George had ordered held, before they left. Carrying the bundle,
they entered several stores on trifling errands, and then went
home. They stopped and spoke to everyone. Kate kissed all her
little pupils she met, and told them to come to see her, and to be
ready to help clean the schoolhouse in the morning. Word flew
over town swiftly. The Teacher was back, wearing the loveliest
dress, and nicer than ever, and she had invited folks to come to
see her.
Kate and George had scarcely finished their supper, when the first
pair of shy little girls came for their kisses and to bring
"Teacher" a bunch of flowers and a pretty pocket handkerchief from
each. They came in flocks, each with flowers, most with a towel
or some small remembrance; then the elders began to come,
merchants with comforts, blankets, and towels, hardware men with
frying pans, flat irons, and tinware. By ten o'clock almost
everyone in Walden had carried Kate some small gift, wished her
joy all the more earnestly, because they felt the chances of her
ever having it were so small, and had gone their way, leaving her
feeling better than she had thought possible.
She slipped into her room alone and read two letters, one a few
typewritten lines from John Jardine, saying he had been at
Hartley, also at Walden, and having found her married and gone,
there was nothing for him to do but wish that the man she married
had it in his heart to guard her life and happiness as he would
have done. He would never cease to love her, and if at any time
in her life there was anything he could do for her, would she
please let him know. Kate dropped the letter on her dresser, with
a purpose, and let it lie there. The other was from Robert. He
said he was very sorry, but he could do nothing with Nancy Ellen
at present. He hoped she would change later. If there was ever
anything he could do, to let him know. Kate locked that letter in
her trunk. She wondered as she did so why both of them seemed to
think she would need them in the future. She felt perfectly able
to take care of herself.