The Eleventh Hour

When she began to dress, Kate examined her hair minutely, and
combed it with unusual care. If Robert was at Agatha's when she
got there, she would let him see that her hair was not sunburned
and ruined. To match the hair dressing, she reached back in her
closet and took down her second best white dress. She was hoping
that Agatha would be well enough to have a short visit. Kate
worked so steadily that she seldom saw any of her brothers and
sisters during the summer. In winter she spent a day with each of
them, if she could possibly manage. Anyway, Agatha would like to
see her appearing well, so she put on the plain snowy linen, and
carefully pinning a big apron over it, she went to the kitchen.
They always had a full dinner at noon and worked until dusk. Her
bath had made her later than she intended to be. Dusk was
deepening, evening chill was beginning to creep into the air. She
closed the door, fed Little Poll and rolled her into bed; set the
potatoes boiling, and began mixing the biscuit. She had them just
ready to roll when steam lifted the lid of the potato pot; with
the soft dough in her hand she took a step to right it. While it
was in her fingers, she peered into the pot.

She did not look up on the instant the door opened, because she
thought it would be Adam. When she glanced toward the door, she
saw Robert standing looking at her. He had stepped inside, closed
the door, and with his hand on the knob was waiting for her to see
him.