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?"