Back Aa

Daughter of the Land (version 2)

<h1> A DAUGHTER OF THE LAND </h1> <h3> by </h3> <h2> Gene Stratton-Porter </h2> <h2> CONTENTS </h2> <table ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">Chapter</td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The Wings of Morning</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> An Embryo Mind Reader</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Peregrinations</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> A Question of Contracts</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The Prodigal Daughter</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Kate's Private Pupil</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Helping Nancy Ellen and Robert to Establish a Home</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The History of a Leghorn Hat</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> A Sunbonnet Girl</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> John Jardine's Courtship</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> A Business Proposition</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Two Letters</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The Bride</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Starting Married Life</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> A New Idea</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The Work of the Sun</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The Banner Hand</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Kate Takes the Bit in Her Teeth</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> "As a Man Soweth"</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> "For a Good Girl"</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Life's Boomerang</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Somewhat of Polly</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Kate's Heavenly Time</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Polly Tries Her Wings</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> One More for Kate</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The Winged Victory</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> Blue Ribbon Corn</td> </tr> <tr> <td ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII.  </td> <td ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> The Eleventh Hour</td> </tr> </table> <h3> To Gene Stratton II </h3> <h1> A DAUGHTER OF THE LAND </h1> <h3> CHAPTER I </h3> <h3> THE WINGS OF MORNING </h3> "TAKE the wings of Morning." Kate Bates followed the narrow footpath rounding the corner of the small country church, as the old minister raised his voice slowly and impressively to repeat the command he had selected for his text. Fearing that her head would be level with the windows, she bent and walked swiftly past the church; but the words went with her, iterating and reiterating themselves in her brain. Once she paused to glance back toward the church, wondering what the minister would say in expounding that text. She had a fleeting thought of slipping in, taking the back seat and listening to the sermon. The remembrance that she had not dressed for church deterred her; then her face twisted grimly as she again turned to the path, for it occurred to her that she had nothing else to wear if she had started to attend church instead of going to see her brother. As usual, she had left her bed at four o'clock; for seven hours she had cooked, washed dishes, made beds, swept, dusted, milked, churned, following the usual routine of a big family in the country. Then she had gone upstairs, dressed in clean gingham and confronted her mother. "I think I have done my share for to-day," she said. "Suppose you call on our lady school-mistress for help with dinner. I'm going to Adam's." Mrs. Bates lifted her gaunt form to very close six feet of height, looking narrowly at her daughter. "Well, what the nation are you going to Adam's at this time a-Sunday for?" she demanded. "Oh, I have a curiosity to learn if there is one of the eighteen members of this family who gives a cent what becomes of me!" answered Kate, her eyes meeting and looking clearly into her mother's. "You are not letting yourself think he would 'give a cent' to send you to that fool normal-thing, are you?" "I am not! But it wasn't a 'fool thing' when Mary and Nancy Ellen, and the older girls wanted to go. You even let Mary go to college two years." "Mary had exceptional ability," said Mrs. Bates. "I wonder how she convinced you of it. None of the rest of us can discover it," said Kate. "What you need is a good strapping, Miss." "I know it; but considering the facts that I am larger than you, and was eighteen in September, I shouldn't advise you to attempt it. What is the difference whether I was born in '62 or '42? Give me the chance you gave Mary, and I'll prove to you that I can do anything she has done, without having 'exceptional ability!'" "The difference is that I am past sixty now. I was stout as an ox when Mary wanted to go to school. It is your duty and your job to stay here and do this work." "To pay for having been born last? Not a bit more than if I had been born first. Any girl in the family owes you as much for life as I do; it is up to the others to pay back in service, after they are of age, if it is to me. I have done my share. If Father were not the richest farmer in the county, and one of the richest men, it would be different. He can afford to hire help for you, quite as well as he can for himself." "Hire help! Who would I get to do the work here?" "You'd have to double your assistants. You could not hire two women who would come here and do so much work as I do in a day. That is why I decline to give up teaching, and stay here to slave at your option, for gingham dresses and cowhide shoes, of your selection. If I were a boy, I'd work three years more and then I would be given two hundred acres of land, have a house and barn built for me, and a start of stock given me, as every boy in this family has had at twenty-one." "A man is a man! He founds a family, he runs the Government! It is a different matter," said Mrs. Bates. "It surely is; in this family. But I think, even with us, a man would have rather a difficult proposition on his hands to found a family without a woman; or to run the Government either." "All right! Go on to Adam and see what you get." "I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that Nancy Ellen gets dinner, anyway," said Kate as she passed through the door and followed the long path to the gate, from there walking beside the road in the direction of her brother's home. There were many horses in the pasture and single and double buggies in the barn; but it never occurred to Kate that she might ride: it was Sunday and the horses were resting. So she followed the path beside the fences, rounded the corner of the church and went on her way with the text from which the pastor was preaching, hammering in her brain. She became so absorbed in thought that she scarcely saw the footpath she followed, while June flowered, and perfumed, and sang all around her. She was so intent upon the words she had heard that her feet unconsciously followed a well-defined branch from the main path leading into the woods, from the bridge, where she sat on a log, and for the unnumbered time, reviewed her problem. She had worked ever since she could remember. Never in her life had she gotten to school before noon on Monday, because of the large washings. After the other work was finished she had spent nights and mornings ironing, when she longed to study, seldom finishing before Saturday. Summer brought an endless round of harvesting, canning, drying; winter brought butchering, heaps of sewing, and postponed summer work. School began late in the fall and closed early in spring, with teachers often inefficient; yet because she was a close student and kept her books where she could take a peep and memorize and think as she washed dishes and cooked, she had thoroughly mastered all the country school near her home could teach her. With six weeks of a summer Normal course she would be as well prepared to teach as any of her sisters were, with the exception of Mary, who had been able to convince her parents that she possessed two college years' worth of "ability." Kate laid no claim to "ability," herself; but she knew she was as strong as most men, had an ordinary brain that could be trained, and while she was far from beautiful she was equally as far from being ugly, for her skin was smooth and pink, her eyes large and blue-gray, her teeth even and white. She missed beauty because her cheekbones were high, her mouth large, her nose barely escaping a pug; but she had a real "crown of glory" in her hair, which was silken fine, long and heavy, of sunshine-gold in colour, curling naturally around her face and neck. Given pure blood to paint such a skin with varying emotions, enough wind to ravel out a few locks of such hair, the proportions of a Venus and perfect health, any girl could rest very well assured of being looked at twice, if not oftener. Kate sat on a log, a most unusual occurrence for her, for she was familiar only with bare, hot houses, furnished with meagre necessities; reeking stables, barnyards and vegetable gardens. She knew less of the woods than the average city girl; but there was a soothing wind, a sweet perfume, a calming silence that quieted her tense mood and enabled her to think clearly; so the review went on over years of work and petty economies, amounting to one grand aggregate that gave to each of seven sons house, stock, and land at twenty-one; and to each of nine daughters a bolt of muslin and a fairly decent dress when she married, as the seven older ones did speedily, for they were fine, large, upstanding girls, some having real beauty, all exceptionally well-trained economists and workers. Because her mother had the younger daughters to help in the absence of the elder, each girl had been allowed the time and money to prepare herself to teach a country school; all of them had taught until they married. Nancy Ellen, the beauty of the family, the girl next older than Kate, had taken the home school for the second winter. Going to school to Nancy Ellen had been the greatest trial of Kate's life, until the possibility of not going to Normal had confronted her. Nancy Ellen was almost as large as Kate, quite as pink, her features assembled in a manner that made all the difference, her jet-black hair as curly as Kate's, her eyes big and dark, her lips red. As for looking at Kate twice, no one ever looked at her at all if Nancy Ellen happened to be walking beside her. Kate bore that without protest; it would have wounded her pride to rebel openly; she did Nancy Ellen's share of the work to allow her to study and have her Normal course; she remained at home plainly clothed to loan Nancy Ellen her best dress when she attended Normal; but when she found that she was doomed to finish her last year at school under Nancy Ellen, to work double so that her sister might go to school early and remain late, coming home tired and with lessons to prepare for the morrow, some of the spontaneity left Kate's efforts. She had a worse grievance when Nancy Ellen hung several new dresses and a wrapper on her side of the closet after her first pay-day, and furnished her end of the bureau with a white hair brush and a brass box filled with pink powder, with a swan's-down puff for its application. For three months Kate had waited and hoped that at least "thank you" would be vouchsafed her; when it failed for that length of time she did two things: she studied so diligently that her father called her into the barn and told her that if before the school, she asked Nancy Ellen another question she could not answer, he would use the buggy whip on her to within an inch of her life. The buggy whip always had been a familiar implement to Kate, so she stopped asking slippery questions, worked harder than ever, and spent her spare time planning what she would hang in the closet and put on her end of the bureau when she had finished her Normal course, and was teaching her first term of school. Now she had learned all that Nancy Ellen could teach her, and much that Nancy Ellen never knew: it was time for Kate to be starting away to school. Because it was so self-evident that she should have what the others had had, she said nothing about it until the time came; then she found her father determined that she should remain at home to do the housework, for no compensation other than her board and such clothes as she always had worn, her mother wholly in accord with him, and marvel of all, Nancy Ellen quite enthusiastic on the subject. Her father always had driven himself and his family like slaves, while her mother had ably seconded his efforts. Money from the sale of chickens, turkeys, butter, eggs, and garden truck that other women of the neighbourhood used for extra clothing for themselves and their daughters and to prettify their homes, Mrs. Bates handed to her husband to increase the amount necessary to purchase the two hundred acres of land for each son when he came of age. The youngest son had farmed his land with comfortable profit and started a bank account, while his parents and two sisters were still saving and working to finish the last payment. Kate thought with bitterness that if this final payment had been made possibly there would have been money to spare for her; but with that thought came the knowledge that her father had numerous investments on which he could have realized and made the payments had he not preferred that they should be a burden on his family. "Take the wings of morning," repeated Kate, with all the emphasis the old minister had used. "Hummm! I wonder what kind of wings. Those of a peewee would scarcely do for me; I'd need the wings of an eagle to get me anywhere, and anyway it wasn't the wings of a bird I was to take, it was the wings of morning. I wonder what the wings of morning are, and how I go about taking them. God knows where my wings come in; by the ache in my feet I seem to have walked, mostly. Oh, what ARE the wings of morning?" Kate stared straight before her, sitting absorbed and motionless. Close in front of her a little white moth fluttered over the twigs and grasses. A kingbird sailed into view and perched on a brush-heap preparatory to darting after the moth. While the bird measured the distance and waited for the moth to rise above the entangling grasses, with a sweep and a snap a smaller bird, very similar in shape and colouring, flashed down, catching the moth and flying high among the branches of a big tree. "Aha! You missed your opportunity!" said Kate to the kingbird. She sat straighter suddenly. "Opportunity," she repeated. "Here is where I am threatened with missing mine. Opportunity! I wonder now if that might not be another name for 'the wings of morning.' Morning is winging its way past me, the question is: do I sit still and let it pass, or do I take its wings and fly away?" Kate brooded on that awhile, then her thought formulated into words again. "It isn't as if Mother were sick or poor, she is perfectly well and stronger than nine women out of ten of her age; Father can afford to hire all the help she needs; there is nothing cruel or unkind in leaving her; and as for Nancy Ellen, why does the fact that I am a few years younger than she, make me her servant? Why do I cook for her, and make her bed, and wash her clothes, while she earns money to spend on herself? And she is doing everything in her power to keep me at it, because she likes what she is doing and what it brings her, and she doesn't give a tinker whether I like what I am doing or not; or whether I get anything I want out of it or not; or whether I miss getting off to Normal on time or not. She is blame selfish, that's what she is, so she won't like the jolt she's going to get; but it will benefit her soul, her soul that her pretty face keeps her from developing, so I shall give her a little valuable assistance. Mother will be furious and Father will have the buggy whip convenient; but I am going! I don't know how, or when, but I am GOING. "Who has a thirst for knowledge, in Helicon may slake it, If he has still, the Roman will, to find a way, or make it." Kate arose tall and straight and addressed the surrounding woods. "Now you just watch me 'find a way or make it,'" she said. "I am 'taking the wings of morning,' observe my flight! See me cut curves and circles and sail and soar around all the other Bates girls the Lord ever made, one named Nancy Ellen in particular. It must be far past noon, and I've much to do to get ready. I fly!" Kate walked back to the highway, but instead of going on she turned toward home. When she reached the gate she saw Nancy Ellen, dressed her prettiest, sitting beneath a cherry tree reading a book, in very plain view from the road. As Kate came up the path: "Hello!" said Nancy Ellen. "Wasn't Adam at home?" "I don't know," answered Kate. "I was not there." "You weren't? Why, where were you?" asked Nancy Ellen. "Oh, I just took a walk!" answered Kate. "Right at dinner time on Sunday? Well, I'll be switched!" cried Nancy Ellen. "Pity you weren't oftener, when you most needed it," said Kate, passing up the walk and entering the door. Her mother asked the same questions so Kate answered them. "Well, I am glad you came home," said Mrs. Bates. "There was no use tagging to Adam with a sorry story, when your father said flatly that you couldn't go." "But I must go!" urged Kate. "I have as good a right to my chance as the others. If you put your foot down and say so, Mother, Father will let me go. Why shouldn't I have the same chance as Nancy Ellen? Please Mother, let me go!" "You stay right where you are. There is an awful summer's work before us," said Mrs. Bates. "There always is," answered Kate. "But now is just my chance while you have Nancy Ellen here to help you." "She has some special studying to do, and you very well know that she has to attend the County Institute, and take the summer course of training for teachers." "So do I," said Kate, stubbornly. "You really will not help me, Mother?" "I've said my say! Your place is here! Here you stay!" answered her mother. "All right," said Kate, "I'll cross you off the docket of my hopes, and try Father." "Well, I warn you, you had better not! He has been nagged until his patience is lost," said Mrs. Bates. Kate closed her lips and started in search of her father. She found him leaning on the pig pen watching pigs grow into money, one of his most favoured occupations. He scowled at her, drawing his huge frame to full height. "I don't want to hear a word you have to say," he said. "You are the youngest, and your place is in the kitchen helping your mother. We have got the last installment to pay on Hiram's land this summer. March back to the house and busy yourself with something useful!" Kate looked at him, from his big-boned, weather-beaten face, to his heavy shoes, then turned without a word and went back toward the house. She went around it to the cherry tree and with no preliminaries said to her sister: "Nancy Ellen, I want you to lend me enough money to fix my clothes a little and pay my way to Normal this summer. I can pay it all back this winter. I'll pay every cent with interest, before I spend any on anything else." "Why, you must be crazy!" said Nancy Ellen. "Would I be any crazier than you, when you wanted to go?" asked Kate. "But you were here to help Mother," said Nancy Ellen. "And you are here to help her now," persisted Kate. "But I've got to fix up my clothes for the County Institute," said Nancy Ellen, "I'll be gone most of the summer." "I have just as much right to go as you had," said Kate. "Father and Mother both say you shall not go," answered her sister. "I suppose there is no use to remind you that I did all in my power to help you to your chance." "You did no more than you should have done," said Nancy Ellen. "And this is no more than you should do for me, in the circumstances," said Kate. "You very well know I can't! Father and Mother would turn me out of the house," said Nancy Ellen. "I'd be only too glad if they would turn me out," said Kate. "You can let me have the money if you like. Mother wouldn't do anything but talk; and Father would not strike you, or make you go, he always favours you." "He does nothing of the sort! I can't, and I won't, so there!" cried Nancy Ellen. "'Won't,' is the real answer, 'so there,'" said Kate. She went into the cellar and ate some cold food from the cupboard and drank a cup of milk. Then she went to her room and looked over all of her scanty stock of clothing, laying in a heap the pieces that needed mending. She took the clothes basket to the wash room, which was the front of the woodhouse, in summer; built a fire, heated water, and while making it appear that she was putting the clothes to soak, as usual, she washed everything she had that was fit to use, hanging the pieces to dry in the building. "Watch me fly!" muttered Kate. "I don't seem to be cutting those curves so very fast; but I'm moving. I believe now, having exhausted all home resources, that Adam is my next objective. He is the only one in the family who ever paid the slightest attention to me, maybe he cares a trifle what becomes of me, but Oh, how I dread Agatha! However, watch me take wing! If Adam fails me I have six remaining prospects among my loving brothers, and if none of them has any feeling for me or faith in me there yet remain my seven dear brothers-in-law, before I appeal to the tender mercies of the neighbours; but how I dread Agatha! Yet I fly!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.