ssed ails the folks? Are they
just itching to start my funeral? Can't they stay away until you send
them word that the breath's out of my body?"

"Mother, you shock me," said Kate. "They come because they LOVE you.
They try to tell you so with the little things they bring. Most people
would think they were neglected, if their children did NOT come to see
them when they were not so well."

"Not so well!" cried Mrs. Bates. "Folly! I am as well as I ever was.
They needn't come snooping around, trying to make me think I'm not. If
they'd a-done it all their lives, well and good; it's no time for them
to begin being cotton-mouthed now."

"Mother," said Kate gently, "haven't YOU changed, yourself, about
things like Christmas, for example? Maybe your children are changing,
too. Maybe they feel that they have missed something they'd like to
have from you, and give back to you, before it's too late. Just
maybe," said Kate.

Mrs. Bates sat bolt upright still, but her flashing eyes softened.

"I hadn't just thought of that," she said. "I think it's more than
likely. Well, if it's THAT way, I s'pose I've got to button up my lip
and stand it; but it's about more than I can go, when I know that the
first time I lose my grip I'll land smash up against Adam Bates and my
settlement with him."

"Mother," said Kate still more gently, "I thought we had it settled at
the time Father went that each of you would be accountable to GOD, not
to each other. I am a wanderer in darkness myself, when it come to
talking about God, but this I know, He is SOMEWHERE and He is REDEEMING
love. If Father has been in the light of His love all these years, he
must have changed more, far more than you have. He'll understand now
how wrong he was to force ways on you he knew you didn't think right;
he'll have more to account to you for than you ever will to him; and
remember this only, neither of you is accountable, save to your God."

Mrs. Bates arose and walked to the door, drawn to full height, her head
very erect. The world was at bloom-time. The evening air was heavily
sweet with lilacs, and the widely branching, old apple trees of the
dooryard with loaded with flowers. She stepped outside. Kate
followed. Her mother went down the steps and down the walk to the
gate. Kate kept beside her, in reach, yet not touching her. At the
gate she gripped the pickets to steady herself as she stared long and
unflinchingly at the red setting s