Ole Iverson brought it into the office and
showed it to me."
"Now, was n't that strange, Miss Frances?" Tony asked thoughtfully. "What
would anybody want to kill themselves in summer for? In thrashing time,
too! It's nice everywhere then."
"So it is, Antonia," said Mrs. Harling heartily. "Maybe I'll go home and
help you thrash next summer. Is n't that taffy nearly ready to eat? I've
been smelling it a long while."
There was a basic harmony between Antonia and her mistress. They had
strong, independent natures, both of them. They knew what they liked, and
were not always trying to imitate other people. They loved children and
animals and music, and rough play and digging in the earth. They liked to
prepare rich, hearty food and to see people eat it; to make up soft white
beds and to see youngsters asleep in them. They ridiculed conceited people
and were quick to help unfortunate ones. Deep down in each of them there
was a kind of hearty joviality, a relish of life, not over-delicate, but
very invigorating. I never tried to define it, but I was distinctly
conscious of it. I could not imagine Antonia's living for a week in any
other house in Black Hawk than the Harlings'.
VII
WINTER lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and
shabby, old and sullen. On the farm the weather was the great fact, and
men's affairs went on underneath it, as the streams creep under the ice.
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