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Cather, Willa Sibert, 1873-1947

"Ántonia"


Presently she drew on her cotton gloves. "I guess I must be leaving," she
said irresolutely.
Frances told her to come again, whenever she was lonesome or wanted advice
about anything. Lena replied that she did n't believe she would ever get
lonesome in Black Hawk.
She lingered at the kitchen door and begged Antonia to come and see her
often. "I've got a room of my own at Mrs. Thomas's, with a carpet."
Tony shuffled uneasily in her cloth slippers. "I'll come sometime, but
Mrs. Harling don't like to have me run much," she said evasively.
"You can do what you please when you go out, can't you?" Lena asked in a
guarded whisper. "Ain't you crazy about town, Tony? I don't care what
anybody says, I'm done with the farm!" She glanced back over her shoulder
toward the dining-room, where Mrs. Harling sat.
When Lena was gone, Frances asked Antonia why she had n't been a little
more cordial to her.
"I did n't know if your mother would like her coming here," said Antonia,
looking troubled. "She was kind of talked about, out there."
"Yes, I know. But mother won't hold it against her if she behaves well
here. You need n't say anything about that to the children. I guess Jim
has heard all that gossip?"
When I nodded, she pulled my hair and told me I knew too much, anyhow. We
were good friends, Frances and I.
I ran home to tell grandmother that Lena Lingard had come to town.


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