She was quiet and steady. Folks respected
her industry and tried to treat her as if nothing had happened. They
talked, to be sure; but not like they would if she'd put on airs. She was
so crushed and quiet that nobody seemed to want to humble her. She never
went anywhere. All that summer she never once came to see me. At first I
was hurt, but I got to feel that it was because this house reminded her of
too much. I went over there when I could, but the times when she was in
from the fields were the times when I was busiest here. She talked about
the grain and the weather as if she'd never had another interest, and if I
went over at night she always looked dead weary. She was afflicted with
toothache; one tooth after another ulcerated, and she went about with her
face swollen half the time. She would n't go to Black Hawk to a dentist
for fear of meeting people she knew. Ambrosch had got over his good spell
long ago, and was always surly. Once I told him he ought not to let
Antonia work so hard and pull herself down. He said, 'If you put that in
her head, you better stay home.' And after that I did.
"Antonia worked on through harvest and thrashing, though she was too
modest to go out thrashing for the neighbors, like when she was young and
free. I did n't see much of her until late that fall when she begun to
herd Ambrosch's cattle in the open ground north of here, up toward the big
dog town.
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