the air
the old black vulture that homed in a hollow log in Kate's woods,
looked down on the spots of colour made by the pink quilt, the gold
corn, the blue of Kate's dress, and her yellow head. An artist would
have paused long, over the rich colour, the grouping and perspective of
that picture, while the hazy fall atmosphere softened and blended the
whole. Kate, herself, never had appeared or felt better. She worked
rapidly, often glancing across the field to see if she was even with,
or slightly in advance of Adam. She said it would never do to let the
boy get "heady," so she made a point of keeping even with him, and
caring for Little Poll, "for good measure."

She was smiling as she watched him working like a machine as he ripped
open husks, gave the ear a twist, tossed it aside, and reached for the
next. Kate was doing the same thing, quite as automatically. She was
beginning to find the afternoon sun almost hot on her bare head, so she
turned until it fell on her back. Her face was flushed to coral pink,
and framed in a loose border of her beautiful hair. She was smiling at
the thought of how Adam was working to get ahead of her, smiling
because Little Poll looked such a picture of healthy loveliness,
smiling because she was so well, she felt super-abundant health rising
like a stimulating tide in her body, smiling because the corn was the
finest she ever had seen in a commonly cultivated field, smiling
because she and Adam were of one accord about everything, smiling
because the day was very beautiful, because her heart was at peace, her
conscience clear.

She heard a car stop at her gate, saw a man alight and start across the
yard toward the field, and knew that her visitor had seen her, and was
coming to her. Kate went on husking corn and when the man swung over
the fence of the field she saw that he was Robert, and instantly
thought of Mrs. Southey, so she ceased to smile. "I've got a big
notion to tell him what I think of him," she said to herself, even as
she looked up to greet him. Instantly she saw that he had come for
something.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Agatha," he said. "She's been having some severe heart attacks
lately, and she just gave me a real scare."

Instantly Kate forgot everything, except Agatha, whom she cordially
liked, and Robert, who appeared older, more tired, and worried than she
ever had seen him. She thought Agatha had "given him a real scare,"
and she decided that