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Cather, Willa Sibert, 1873-1947

"Ántonia"

But
to-night her mind seemed to dwell on those early years. She told me she
could n't remember a time when she was so little that she was n't lugging
a heavy baby about, helping to wash for babies, trying to keep their
little chapped hands and faces clean. She remembered home as a place where
there were always too many children, a cross man, and work piling up
around a sick woman.
"It was n't mother's fault. She would have made us comfortable if she
could. But that was no life for a girl! After I began to herd and milk I
could never get the smell of the cattle off me. The few underclothes I had
I kept in a cracker box. On Saturday nights, after everybody was in bed,
then I could take a bath if I was n't too tired. I could make two trips to
the windmill to carry water, and heat it in the wash-boiler on the stove.
While the water was heating, I could bring in a washtub out of the cave,
and take my bath in the kitchen. Then I could put on a clean nightgown and
get into bed with two others, who likely had n't had a bath unless I'd
given it to them. You can't tell me anything about family life. I've had
plenty to last me."
"But it's not all like that," I objected.
"Near enough. It's all being under somebody's thumb. What's on your mind,
Jim? Are you afraid I'll want you to marry me some day?"
Then I told her I was going away.
"What makes you want to go away, Jim? Have n't I been nice to you?"
"You've been just awfully good to me, Lena," I blurted.


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