who was willing to trust me to pay it back as soon as I earned it.
Not Nancy Ellen, of course. She would not even loan me a pocket
handkerchief, though you remember I stayed at home six weeks last
summer to let her take what she wanted of mine. Mother: I think
you can get Sally Whistler to help you as cheaply as any one and
that she will do very well. Nancy Ellen: I have taken your
second best hat and a few of your things, but not half so many as
I loaned you. I hope it makes you mad enough to burst. I hope
you get as mad and stay as mad as I have been most of this year
while you taught me things you didn't know yourself; and I cooked
and washed for you so you could wear fine clothes and play the
lady. KATE

Adam Bates read that note to himself, stretching every inch of his
six feet six, his face a dull red, his eyes glaring. Then he
turned to his wife and daughter.

"Is Kate gone? Without proper clothing and on borrowed money," he
demanded.

"I don't know," said Mrs. Bates. "I was hoeing potatoes all
forenoon."

"Listen to this," he thundered. Then he slowly read the note
aloud. But someway the spoken words did not have the same effect
as when he read them mentally in the first shock of anger. When
he heard his own voice read off the line, "I hope it makes you mad
enough to burst," there was a catch and a queer gurgle in his
throat. Mrs. Bates gazed at him anxiously. Was he so surprised
and angry he was choking? Might it be a stroke? It was! It was