“There’s no faintest possibility of pleasing
everyone,” said Kate. “The level
best we can do is to devise some scheme whereby everyone
will come as nearly being satisfied as possible.”
“Can Aunt Josie and Aunt Mary keep from fighting
across the grave?” asked Adam.
“Only Heaven knows,” said Kate.
Sunday morning Kate arose early and had the house
clean and everything ready when the first carriage
load drove into the barnyard. As she helped
her mother to dress, Mrs. Bates again evidenced a
rebellious spirit. Nancy Ellen had slipped upstairs
and sewed fine white ruching in the neck and sleeves
of her mother’s best dress, her only dress,
in fact, aside from the calicoes she worked in.
Kate combed her mother’s hair and drew it in
loose waves across her temples. As she produced
the dress, Mrs. Bates drew back.
“What did you stick them gew-gaws onto my dress
for?” she demanded.
“I didn’t,” said Kate.
“Oh, it was Nancy Ellen! Well, I don’t
see why she wanted to make a laughing stock of me,”
said Mrs. Bates.
“She didn’t!” said Kate. “Everyone
is wearing ruching now; she wanted her mother to have
what the best of them have.”
“Humph!” said Mrs. Bates. “Well,
I reckon I can stand it until noon, but it’s
going to be a hot dose.”
“Haven’t you a thin black dress, Mother?”
asked Kate.
“No,” said Mrs. Bates, “I haven’t;
but you can make a pretty safe bet that I will have
one before I start anywhere again in such weather
as this.”
“That’s the proper spirit,” said
Kate. “There comes Andrew. Let me
put your bonnet on.”
She set the fine black bonnet Nancy Ellen had bought
on Mrs. Bates’ head at the proper angle and
tied the long, wide silk ribbon beneath her chin.
Mrs. Bates sat in martyr-like resignation.
Kate was pleased with her mother’s appearance.
“Look in the mirror,” she said.
“See what a handsome lady you are.”
“I ain’t seen in a looking-glass since
I don’t know when,” said Mrs. Bates.
“Why should I begin now? Chances are ’at
you have rigged me up until I’ll set the neighbours
laughing, or else to saying that I didn’t wait
until the breath was out of Pa’s body to begin
primping.”
“Nonsense, Mother,” said Kate. “Nobody
will say or think anything. Everyone will recognize
Nancy Ellen’s fine Spencerian hand in that bonnet
and ruching. Now for your veil!”
Mrs. Bates arose from her chair, and stepped back.
“There, there, Katie!” she said.
“You’ve gone far enough. I’ll
be sweat to a lather in this dress; I’ll wear
the head-riggin’, because I’ve go to,
or set the neighbours talkin’ how mean Pa was
not to let me have a bonnet; and between the two I’d
rather they’d take it out on me than on him.”
She steadied herself by the chair back and looked
Kate in the eyes. “Pa was always the banner
hand to boss everything,” she said. “He
was so big and strong, and so all-fired sure he was
right, I never contraried him in the start, so before
I knowed it, I was waiting for him to say what to do,
and then agreeing with him, even when I knowed he was
wrong. So goin’ we got along fine,
but it give me an awful smothered feeling at times.”
