"
The boys laughed and seemed pleased and embarrassed. "She never told us
that," said Anton. "But she's always talked lots about you, and about what
good times you used to have. She has a picture of you that she cut out of
the Chicago paper once, and Leo says he recognized you when you drove up
to the windmill. You can't tell about Leo, though; sometimes he likes to
be smart."
We brought the cows home to the corner nearest the barn, and the boys
milked them while night came on. Everything was as it should be: the
strong smell of sunflowers and ironweed in the dew, the clear blue and
gold of the sky, the evening star, the purr of the milk into the pails,
the grunts and squeals of the pigs fighting over their supper. I began to
feel the loneliness of the farm-boy at evening, when the chores seem
everlastingly the same, and the world so far away.
What a tableful we were at supper; two long rows of restless heads in the
lamplight, and so many eyes fastened excitedly upon Antonia as she sat at
the head of the table, filling the plates and starting the dishes on their
way. The children were seated according to a system; a little one next an
older one, who was to watch over his behavior and to see that he got his
food. Anna and Yulka left their chairs from time to time to bring fresh
plates of kolaches and pitchers of milk.
After supper we went into the parlor, so that Yulka and Leo could play for
me.
Pages:
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302