Somewhat of Polly

If the spirit of Mrs. Bates hovered among the bloom-whitened apple
trees as her mortal remains were carried past the lilacs and
cabbage rose bushes, through a rain of drifting petals, she must
have been convinced that time had wrought one great change in the
hearts of her children. They had all learned to weep; while if
the tears they shed were a criterion of their feelings for her,
surely her soul must have been satisfied. They laid her away with
simple ceremony and then all of them went to their homes, except
Nancy Ellen and Robert, who stopped in passing to learn if there
was anything they could do for Kate. She was grieving too deeply
for many words; none of them would ever understand the deep bond
of sympathy and companionship that had grown to exist between her
and her mother. She stopped at the front porch and sat down,
feeling unable to enter the house with Nancy Ellen, who was deeply
concerned over the lack of taste displayed in Agatha's new spring
hat. When Kate could endure it no longer she interrupted: "Why
didn't all of them come?"

"What for?" asked Nancy Ellen.

"They had a right to know what Mother had done," said Kate in a
low voice.

"But what was the use?" asked Nancy Ellen. "Adam had been
managing the administrator business for Mother and paying her
taxes with his, of course when she made a deed to you, and had it
recorded, they told him. All of us knew it for two years before
she went after you. And the new furniture was bought with your
money, so it's yours; what was there to have a meeting about?"