streets of Hartley, as she frequently did now; but she would not ask her to come home with her, because she would not bring herself in contact with George Holt.  The day Kate went to Hartley to receive and deposit her check, and start her bank account, her mother asked her if she had any plan as to what she would do with her money.  Kate told her in detail.  Mrs. Bates listened with grim face:  “You better leave it in the bank,” she said, “and use the interest to help you live, or put it in good farm mortgages, where you can easily get ten per cent.”

Kate explained again and told how she was doing all the buying, how she would pay all bills, and keep the books.  It was no use.  Mrs. Bates sternly insisted that she should do no such thing.  In some way she would be defrauded.  In some way she would lose the money.  What she was proposing was a man’s work.  Kate had most of her contracts signed and much material ordered, she could not stop.  Sadly she saw her mother turn from her, declaring as she went that Kate would lose every cent she had, and when she did she need not come hanging around her.  She had been warned.  If she lost, she could take the consequences.  For an instant Kate felt that she could not endure it then she sprang after her mother.

“Oh, but I won’t lose!” she cried.  “I’m keeping my money in my own hands.  I’m spending it myself.  Please, Mother, come and see the location, and let me show you everything.”

“Too late now,” said Mrs. Bates grimly, “the thing is done.  The time to have told me was before you made any contracts.  You’re always taking the bit in your teeth and going ahead.  Well, go!  But remember, ‘as you make your bed, so you can lie.’”

“All right,” said Kate, trying to force a laugh.  “Don’t you worry.  Next time you get into a tight place and want to borrow a few hundreds, come to me.”

Mrs. Bates laughed derisively.  Kate turned away with a faint sickness in her heart and when half an hour later she met Nancy Ellen, fresh from an interview with her mother, she felt no better —­ far worse, in fact —­ for Nancy Ellen certainly could say what was in her mind with free and forceful directness.  With deft tongue and nimble brain, she embroidered all Mrs. Bates had said, and prophesied more evil luck in three minutes than her mother could have thought of in a year.  Kate left them with no promise of seeing either of them again, except by accident, her heart and brain filled with misgivings.  “Must I always have ’a fly in my ointment’?” she wailed to herself.  “I thought this morning this would be the happiest day of my life.  I felt as if I were flying.  Ye Gods, but wings were never meant for me.  Every time I take them, down I come kerflop, mostly in a ‘gulf of dark despair,’ as the hymn book says.  Anyway, I’ll keep my promise and give the youngsters a treat.”