The Banner Hand

Sunday morning Kate arose early and had the house clean and
everything ready when the first carriage load drove into the
barnyard. As she helped her mother to dress, Mrs. Bates again
evidenced a rebellious spirit. Nancy Ellen had slipped upstairs
and sewed fine white ruching in the neck and sleeves of her
mother's best dress, her only dress, in fact, aside from the
calicoes she worked in. Kate combed her mother's hair and drew it
in loose waves across her temples. As she produced the dress,
Mrs. Bates drew back.

"What did you stick them gew-gaws onto my dress for?" she
demanded.

"I didn't," said Kate.

"Oh, it was Nancy Ellen! Well, I don't see why she wanted to make
a laughing stock of me," said Mrs. Bates.

"She didn't!" said Kate. "Everyone is wearing ruching now; she
wanted her mother to have what the best of them have."

"Humph!" said Mrs. Bates. "Well, I reckon I can stand it until
noon, but it's going to be a hot dose."

"Haven't you a thin black dress, Mother?" asked Kate.

"No," said Mrs. Bates, "I haven't; but you can make a pretty safe
bet that I will have one before I start anywhere again in such
weather as this."

"That's the proper spirit," said Kate. "There comes Andrew. Let
me put your bonnet on."

She set the fine black bonnet Nancy Ellen had bought on Mrs.
Bates' head at the proper angle and tied the long, wide silk
ribbon beneath her chin. Mrs. Bates sat in martyr-like
resignation. Kate was pleased with her mother's appearance.