Robert said good-bye and started back toward his car. Kate looked
after him as he reached the fence. A surge of pity for him swept
up in her heart. He seemed far from happy, and he surely was very
tired. Impulsive as always, she lifted her clear voice and
called: "Robert!"
He paused with his foot on a rail of the fence, and turned toward
her.
"Have you had any dinner?" she asked.
He seemed to be considering. "Come to think of it, I don't
believe I have," he said.
"I thought you looked neglected," said Kate. "Sonny across the
field is starting a shock ahead of me; I can't come, but go to the
kitchen -- the door is unlocked -- you'll find fried chicken and
some preserves and pickles in the pantry; the bread box is right
there, and the milk and butter are in the spring house."
He gave Kate one long look. "Thank you," he said and leaped the
fence. He stopped on the front walk and stood a minute, then he
turned and went around the house. She laughed aloud. She was
sending him to chicken perfectly cooked, barely cold, melon
preserves, pickled cucumbers, and bread like that which had for
years taken a County Fair prize each fall; butter yellow as the
goldenrod lining the fences, and cream stiff enough to stand
alone. Also, he would find neither germ nor mould in her pantry
and spring house, while it would be a new experience for him to
let him wait on himself. Kate husked away in high good humour,
but she quit an hour early to be on time to go to Agatha. She
explained this to Adam, when she told him that he would have to
milk alone, while she bathed and dressed herself and got supper.
When she began to dress, Kate examined her hair minutely, and
combed it with unusual care. If Robert was at Agatha's when she
got there, she would let him see that her hair was not sunburned
and ruined. To match the hair dressing, she reached back in her
closet and took down her second best white dress. She was hoping
that Agatha would be well enough to have a short visit. Kate
worked so steadily that she seldom saw any of her brothers and
sisters during the summer. In winter she spent a day with each of
them, if she could possibly manage. Anyway, Agatha would like to
see her appearing well, so she put on the plain snowy linen, and
carefully pinning a big apron over it, she went to the kitchen.
They always had a full dinner at noon and worked until dusk. Her
bath had made her later than she intended to be. Dusk was
deepening, evening chill was beginning to creep into the air. She
closed the door, fed Little Poll and rolled her into bed; set the
potatoes boiling, and began mixing the biscuit. She had them just
ready to roll when steam lifted the lid of the potato pot; with
the soft dough in her hand she took a step to right it. While it
was in her fingers, she peered into the pot.