“All right,” said Kate.  “Then I’ll tell you definitely that I have no particular desire to marry anybody; I like my life immensely as I’m living it.  I’m free, independent, and my children are in the element to which they were born, and where they can live naturally, and spend their lives helping in the great work of feeding, clothing, and housing their fellow men.  I’ve no desire to leave my job or take them from theirs, to start a lazy, shiftless life of self-indulgence.  I don’t meddle much with the Bible, but I have a profound belief in it, and a large respect for it, as the greatest book in the world, and it says:  ‘By the sweat of his brow shall man earn his bread,’ or words to that effect.  I was born a sweater, I shall just go on sweating until I die; I refuse to begin perspiring at my time of life.”

“You big fool!” cried Nancy Ellen.

“Look out!  You’re ‘in danger of Hell fire,’ when you call me that!” warned Kate.

“Fire away!” cried Nancy Ellen, with tears in her eyes and voice.  “When I think what you’ve gone through —­ "

Kate stared at her fixedly.  “What do you know about what I’ve gone though?” she demanded in a cold, even voice.  “Personally, I think you’re not qualified to mention that subject; you better let it rest.  Whatever it has been, it’s been of such a nature that I have come out of it knowing when I have my share and when I’m well off, for me.  If John Jardine wants to marry me, and will sell all he has, and come and work on the farm with me, I’ll consider marrying him.  To leave my life and what I love to go to Chicago with him, I do not feel called on, or inclined to do.  No, I’ll not marry him, and in about fifteen minutes I’ll tell him so.”

“And go on making a mess of your life such as you did for years,” said Nancy Ellen, drying her red eyes.

“At least it was my life,” said Kate.  “I didn’t mess things for any one else.”

“Except your children,” said Nancy Ellen.

“As you will,” said Kate, rising.  “I’ll not marry John Jardine; and the sooner I tell him so and get it over, the better.  Good-bye.  I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Kate walked slowly to the observation platform, where she had been the previous evening with John Jardine; and leaning on the railing, she stood looking out over the water, and down the steep declivity, thinking how best she could word what she had to say.  She was so absorbed she did not hear steps behind her or turn until a sharp voice said:  “You needn’t wait any longer.  He’s not coming!”

Kate turned and glanced at the speaker, and then around to make sure she was the person being addressed.  She could see no one else.  The woman was small, light haired, her face enamelled, dressed beyond all reason, and in a manner wholly out of place for morning at a summer resort in Michigan.

“If you are speaking to me, will you kindly tell me to whom you refer, and give me the message you bring?” said Kate.