“She is,” said Hinpoha. “She’s only joking.”
Mrs. Evans sat looking at Katherine closely. She had just noticed something. Although Katherine had been the most hilarious one at the table she had 216 not eaten a mouthful. The delicious roast chicken and corn fritters, her favorite dish, lay untouched upon her plate. And the whimsical dancing light had gone out of her eyes.
“My dear,” she said, leaning across the table, “what is the matter with you? Has anything happened to change your plans about going to college?”
Katherine looked at her calmly. “It’s all off,” she said nonchalantly, raising her water glass to her dry lips. “Father made a little investment in oil this summer–and now we’re back to where we were the year of the drought. So it’s back to the soil for mine, to the sagebrush and the pump in the dooryard, and maybe teaching in the little one-story schoolhouse in between chores. I knew my dream of college was too sweet to be true.”
“Oh, Katherine,” cried Hinpoha in dismay, “you must go to college, it would be a terrible pity if you couldn’t.”
“Kindly omit flowers,” said Katherine brusquely.
“My dear child,” said Mr. Evans quickly, “I will gladly advance the sum needed for your education. You may regard it as a loan if you will”–for Katherine’s chin had suddenly squared itself at the beginning of his speech–“but I would consider the pleasure all mine.”
“You are very kind,” said Katherine huskily, “but I couldn’t do it. You see, my mother’s health 217 has broken down from the years of hard work and this sudden trouble, and dad’s thoroughly discouraged, and they need me on the job to put life into them and keep the farm going.”
Gratefully but firmly she refused all their offers of help. She was the calmest one in the group, but the white lines around her mouth and the drooping slant to her shoulders told what a disappointment she had suffered.
“Will you have to go home right away?” asked Gladys in a tragic voice.