The Old Lady Burbank

The Old Lady Burbank is the mother of Phil Burbank and George Burbank, and one of the retired eastern owners behind the Burbank ranch. Though she occupies little of the novel’s action, her appearances give the family story a perspective beyond the ranch: she is removed from its daily labor, yet returns at a moment when grief, marriage, and the uncertain place of Rose in the household converge. Her conduct after Phil’s death—sharing private sorrow with her husband while turning toward Rose and George—makes her a quiet figure of transition between the old family and its changing future.

Identity and Position

The Old Lady Burbank and The Old Gentleman Burbank had operated the ranch for many years before retiring to a suite in a Salt Lake City hotel. They were moneyed easterners, and the ranch remained one of the valley’s most important properties. When the story opens in 1924, their sons, Phil Burbank and George Burbank, run it: Phil oversees the physical work of the spread, while George handles its business and finances. The parents’ retirement follows an undescribed contretemps with Phil; the account identifies the rupture but does not explain its cause, so their absence from the ranch cannot be reduced to a fully specified quarrel.

The division between the parents’ hotel life and their sons’ ranch life places The Old Lady Burbank at a distance from the daily routines that define the brothers. Her later journey back to Herndon is therefore also a return to the family’s sphere of activity, prompted by George’s telegram and then made necessary by Phil’s funeral. The narrative gives her no independent account of the ranch’s operations or of the earlier conflict with Phil. Instead, it reveals her through brief, practical exchanges and through the way she responds to loss and to Rose.

Hotel Life and the Journey to Herndon

In the hotel, The Old Lady Burbank attends to small comforts with an eye to how they are secured. She discusses the chambermaid who waters the geraniums that make the rooms feel homelike, observing that reliable service depends on a sufficiently generous tip. The exchange sets a tone of wry practicality: even away from the ranch, comfort is something maintained through work and payment, not simply assumed.

As she prepares to leave for Herndon, she complains that the tiny jeweled watch on her wrist is difficult to read and does not keep time. The Old Gentleman Burbank supplies the precise time from his own watch—five thirty-seven—and she suggests that they can eat on the train. Then her manner shifts: she covers her face, and her husband immediately comes to her and comforts her. She soon insists that she is all right. Their departure is subdued; they have sent their bags ahead and leave the room together. The brief episode establishes both her composure in ordinary matters and the grief that can interrupt it without warning.

After Phil’s Funeral

The Old Lady Burbank and The Old Gentleman Burbank go directly from Phil’s grave to the railroad depot rather than spending another night in Herndon. They have nothing to say to anyone there, and their departure gives their mourning a deliberately private shape. On the train, The Old Lady Burbank tells her husband not to look as if he were responsible for what happened, invoking the limits of choice and the force of fate. He gently turns her reassurance back toward her. The exchange does not resolve their grief; it shows them sharing it, each trying to protect the other from blame.

The funeral also brings them into contact with Rose. The Old Gentleman Burbank tells his wife that he saw her kiss Rose and had noticed that she was not wearing rings. The Old Lady Burbank acknowledges the detail and recalls going to Rose after watching her get down from the car and give George her hand. The passage makes her attention significant: she notices a small sign of Rose’s position and responds to the new couple with approval. The text leaves the precise object or words of her gesture unfinished, so its importance lies in the act of approaching Rose and in the evident welcome, not in an assumed explanation of what she gave her.

Relationships and Narrative Role

The Old Lady Burbank’s bond with The Old Gentleman Burbank is presented through ease of practical coordination and intimate consolation. He anticipates her distress and moves to comfort her; she, in turn, tries to relieve his apparent guilt after Phil’s death. Their exchanges are affectionate without being elaborated into a history, and their shared journey supplies a small counterpoint to the isolation that has marked other members of the family.

Her relationship to George and Rose emerges most clearly in the aftermath of the funeral. She observes their gestures toward one another and responds with hope for their marriage, treating Rose not merely as an outsider but as someone who can be welcomed into the family. That response carries particular weight because The Old Lady Burbank’s own family life has been altered by retirement, estrangement from Phil, and his death. She cannot undo those losses, but the scene places her beside George and Rose as their relationship takes shape.

The novel does not make her a principal agent in the events at the ranch, nor does it assign her a clear position on its conflicts. Her narrative importance is instead concentrated in these restrained scenes of departure, bereavement, and recognition. The hotel geraniums, the unreadable watch, the journey from the grave to the depot, and her attention to Rose are modest details, but together they show a character who registers care through practical acts and close observation. Her presence helps mark the family’s passage from Phil’s death toward a household in which George and Rose may belong together.