I remember exactly how he strode into
our kitchen in his felt boots and long wolfskin coat, his eyes and cheeks
bright with the cold. At sight of grandmother, he snatched off his fur
cap, greeting her in a deep, rolling voice which seemed older than he.
"I want to thank you very much, Mrs. Burden, for that you are so kind to
poor strangers from my kawn-tree."
He did not hesitate like a farmer boy, but looked one eagerly in the eye
when he spoke. Everything about him was warm and spontaneous. He said he
would have come to see the Shimerdas before, but he had hired out to husk
corn all the fall, and since winter began he had been going to the school
by the mill, to learn English, along with the little children. He told me
he had a nice "lady-teacher" and that he liked to go to school.
At dinner grandfather talked to Jelinek more than he usually did to
strangers.
"Will they be much disappointed because we cannot get a priest?" he asked.
Jelinek looked serious. "Yes, sir, that is very bad for them. Their father
has done a great sin," he looked straight at grandfather. "Our Lord has
said that."
Grandfather seemed to like his frankness. "We believe that, too, Jelinek.
But we believe that Mr. Shimerda's soul will come to its Creator as well
off without a priest. We believe that Christ is our only intercessor."
The young man shook his head.
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