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“But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” | Jim | and be accountable to nobody.”<|quote|>“But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.”</|quote|>“Not me. I like to | when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.”<|quote|>“But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.”</|quote|>“Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went | soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.”<|quote|>“But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort o... | what girls say, but you know better. Every handsome girl like you marries, of course.” She shook her head. “Not me.” “But why not? What makes you say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky o... | old chap will be proposing to you some day, Lena.” “Oh, he has—often!” she murmured. “What! After you’ve refused him?” “He does n’t mind that. It seems to cheer him to mention the subject. Old men are like that, you know. It makes them feel important to think they’re in love with somebody.” “The Colonel would marry you... | perfectly irresponsible, I should judge.” Cleric wrote my grandfather that he would like to take me East with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wished. I was both glad and sorry on the day when the letter came. I stayed in my room all evening and thought things over; I even tried to pers... | went off with such an important, professional air, that we fell to laughing as soon as we had shut the door. “Poor fellow,” Lena said indulgently, “he takes everything so hard.” After that Ordinsky was friendly to me, and behaved as if there were some deep understanding between us. He wrote a furious article, attacking... | would probably marry and secure her future. The next evening I went to call on Lena. I found her propped up on the couch in her bay window, with her foot in a big slipper. An awkward little Russian girl whom she had taken into her work-room had dropped a flat-iron on Lena’s toe. On the table beside her there was a bask... | My Antonia |
“Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” | Lena | and you’ll want a family.”<|quote|>“Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.”</|quote|>Usually, when Lena referred to | of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.”<|quote|>“Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.”</|quote|>Usually, w... | to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.”<|quote|>“Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work fo... | her head. “Not me.” “But why not? What makes you say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and wa... | you’ve refused him?” “He does n’t mind that. It seems to cheer him to mention the subject. Old men are like that, you know. It makes them feel important to think they’re in love with somebody.” “The Colonel would marry you in a minute. I hope you won’t marry some old fellow; not even a rich one.” Lena shifted her pillo... | with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wished. I was both glad and sorry on the day when the letter came. I stayed in my room all evening and thought things over; I even tried to persuade myself that I was standing in Lena’s way—it is so necessary to be a little noble!—and that if she ha... | had shut the door. “Poor fellow,” Lena said indulgently, “he takes everything so hard.” After that Ordinsky was friendly to me, and behaved as if there were some deep understanding between us. He wrote a furious article, attacking the musical taste of the town, and asked me to do him a great service by taking it to the... | grandfather replied that I might go if I wished. I was both glad and sorry on the day when the letter came. I stayed in my room all evening and thought things over; I even tried to persuade myself that I was standing in Lena’s way—it is so necessary to be a little noble!—and that if she had not me to play with, she wou... | My Antonia |
Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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 ... | No speaker | was off with the cattle.”<|quote|>Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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 heav... | to myself except when I was off with the cattle.”<|quote|>Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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 sh... | like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.”<|quote|>Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it... | what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was ... | even a rich one.” Lena shifted her pillows and looked up at me in surprise. “Why, I’m not going to marry anybody. Did n’t you know that?” “Nonsense, Lena. That’s what girls say, but you know better. Every handsome girl like you marries, of course.” She shook her head. “Not me.” “But why not? What makes you say that?” I... | necessary to be a little noble!—and that if she had not me to play with, she would probably marry and secure her future. The next evening I went to call on Lena. I found her propped up on the couch in her bay window, with her foot in a big slipper. An awkward little Russian girl whom she had taken into her work-room ha... | by taking it to the editor of the morning paper. If the editor refused to print it, I was to tell him that he would be answerable to Ordinsky “in person.” He declared that he would never retract one word, and that he was quite prepared to lose all his pupils. In spite of the fact that nobody ever mentioned his article ... | recover yourself while you are playing about with this handsome Norwegian. Yes, I’ve seen her with you at the theater. She’s very pretty, and perfectly irresponsible, I should judge.” Cleric wrote my grandfather that he would like to take me East with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wi... | My Antonia |
“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... | Lena | up around a sick woman.<|quote|>“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 be... | cross man, and work piling up around a sick woman.<|quote|>“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... | 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.<|quote|>“It was n’t mother’s fault. She would have ... | off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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... | begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for ... | managed to know what went on in Lena’s apartment. Lena was telling me some amusing piece of gossip about one of her clients, when I interrupted her and picked up the flower basket. “This old chap will be proposing to you some day, Lena.” “Oh, he has—often!” she murmured. “What! After you’ve refused him?” “He does n’t m... | is,” he said to me, “where there is no chivalry, there is no amour propre.” When I met him on his rounds now, I thought he carried his head more disdainfully than ever, and strode up the steps of front porches and rang doorbells with more assurance. He told Lena he would never forget how I had stood by him when he was ... | I should judge.” Cleric wrote my grandfather that he would like to take me East with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wished. I was both glad and sorry on the day when the letter came. I stayed in my room all evening and thought things over; I even tried to persuade myself that I was st... | My Antonia |
“But it’s not all like that,” | Jim | had plenty to last me.”<|quote|>“But it’s not all like that,”</|quote|>I objected. “Near enough. It’s | anything about family life. I’ve had plenty to last me.”<|quote|>“But it’s not all like that,”</|quote|>I objected. “Near enough. It’s all being under somebody’s thumb. | 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.”<|quote|>“But it’s not all like that,”</|quote|>I objected. “Near enough. It... | 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 g... | 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 coul... | “But why not? What makes you say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at h... | He suggested that I should follow him in the fall, and complete my course at Harvard. He had found out about Lena—not from me—and he talked to me seriously. “You won’t do anything here now. You should either quit school and go to work, or change your college and begin again in earnest. You won’t recover yourself while ... | what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was ... | My Antonia |
I objected. | No speaker | it’s not all like that,”<|quote|>I objected.</|quote|>“Near enough. It’s all being | plenty to last me.” “But it’s not all like that,”<|quote|>I objected.</|quote|>“Near enough. It’s all being under somebody’s thumb. What’s on | 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,”<|quote|>I objected.</|quote|>“Near enough. It’s all being under somebod... | 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, ... | 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 gi... | say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to... | him in the fall, and complete my course at Harvard. He had found out about Lena—not from me—and he talked to me seriously. “You won’t do anything here now. You should either quit school and go to work, or change your college and begin again in earnest. You won’t recover yourself while you are playing about with this ha... | handsome girl like you marries, of course.” She shook her head. “Not me.” “But why not? What makes you say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin ... | My Antonia |
“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?” | Lena | all like that,” I objected.<|quote|>“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?”</|quote|>Then I told her I | last me.” “But it’s not all like that,” I objected.<|quote|>“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?”</|quote|>Then I told her I was going away. “What makes | 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.<|quote|>“Near enough. It’s all being under somebody’s thumb. What’s on y... | 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 ... | 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... | I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish... | the fall, and complete my course at Harvard. He had found out about Lena—not from me—and he talked to me seriously. “You won’t do anything here now. You should either quit school and go to work, or change your college and begin again in earnest. You won’t recover yourself while you are playing about with this handsome ... | always managed to know what went on in Lena’s apartment. Lena was telling me some amusing piece of gossip about one of her clients, when I interrupted her and picked up the flower basket. “This old chap will be proposing to you some day, Lena.” “Oh, he has—often!” she murmured. “What! After you’ve refused him?” “He doe... | My Antonia |
Then I told her I was going away. | No speaker | to marry me some day?”<|quote|>Then I told her I was going away.</|quote|>“What makes you want to | you afraid I’ll want you to marry me some day?”<|quote|>Then I told her I was going away.</|quote|>“What makes you want to go away, Jim? Have n’t | 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?”<|quote|>Then I told her I was going away.</|quote|>“Wh... | 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 pl... | 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 Saturd... | marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll w... | anything here now. You should either quit school and go to work, or change your college and begin again in earnest. You won’t recover yourself while you are playing about with this handsome Norwegian. Yes, I’ve seen her with you at the theater. She’s very pretty, and perfectly irresponsible, I should judge.” Cleric wro... | shook her head. “Not me.” “But why not? What makes you say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, ... | My Antonia |
“What makes you want to go away, Jim? Have n’t I been nice to you?” | Lena | her I was going away.<|quote|>“What makes you want to go away, Jim? Have n’t I been nice to you?”</|quote|>“You’ve been just awfully good | some day?” Then I told her I was going away.<|quote|>“What makes you want to go away, Jim? Have n’t I been nice to you?”</|quote|>“You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted. | 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.<|quote|>“What makes you want to go away, Jim? Have n’t I... | 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,... | 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 ... | even the wild ones. They begin to tell you what’s sensible and what’s foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome.... | and go to work, or change your college and begin again in earnest. You won’t recover yourself while you are playing about with this handsome Norwegian. Yes, I’ve seen her with you at the theater. She’s very pretty, and perfectly irresponsible, I should judge.” Cleric wrote my grandfather that he would like to take me E... | to think they’re in love with somebody.” “The Colonel would marry you in a minute. I hope you won’t marry some old fellow; not even a rich one.” Lena shifted her pillows and looked up at me in surprise. “Why, I’m not going to marry anybody. Did n’t you know that?” “Nonsense, Lena. That’s what girls say, but you know be... | My Antonia |
“You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” | Jim | I been nice to you?”<|quote|>“You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,”</|quote|>I blurted. “I don’t think | go away, Jim? Have n’t I been nice to you?”<|quote|>“You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,”</|quote|>I blurted. “I don’t think about much else. I never | 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?”<|quote|>“You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,”</|quote|>I blur... | 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. Wha... | 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 w... | want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slep... | recover yourself while you are playing about with this handsome Norwegian. Yes, I’ve seen her with you at the theater. She’s very pretty, and perfectly irresponsible, I should judge.” Cleric wrote my grandfather that he would like to take me East with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wi... | 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 s... | My Antonia |
I blurted. | No speaker | awfully good to me, Lena,”<|quote|>I blurted.</|quote|>“I don’t think about much | to you?” “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,”<|quote|>I blurted.</|quote|>“I don’t think about much else. I never shall think | 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,”<|quote|>I blurted.</|quote|>“I don’t think about much else. I never sha... | 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 afrai... | 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... | time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there we... | this handsome Norwegian. Yes, I’ve seen her with you at the theater. She’s very pretty, and perfectly irresponsible, I should judge.” Cleric wrote my grandfather that he would like to take me East with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wished. I was both glad and sorry on the day when th... | I’m not going to marry anybody. Did n’t you know that?” “Nonsense, Lena. That’s what girls say, but you know better. Every handsome girl like you marries, of course.” She shook her head. “Not me.” “But why not? What makes you say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men ... | My Antonia |
“I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” | Jim | to me, Lena,” I blurted.<|quote|>“I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.”</|quote|>I dropped down beside her | “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted.<|quote|>“I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.”</|quote|>I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the | 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.<|quote|>“I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else w... | 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 w... | 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-boi... | prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t t... | Norwegian. Yes, I’ve seen her with you at the theater. She’s very pretty, and perfectly irresponsible, I should judge.” Cleric wrote my grandfather that he would like to take me East with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wished. I was both glad and sorry on the day when the letter came.... | my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. But to-night her mind seemed to dwell on those early years. She told me s... | My Antonia |
I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. | No speaker | stay here. You know that.”<|quote|>I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again.</|quote|>“I ought n’t to have | down and grind if I stay here. You know that.”<|quote|>I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again.</|quote|>“I ought n’t to have begu... | go away, Jim? Have n’t I been nice to you?” “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.”<|quote|>I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I s... | 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 awf... | 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... | family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she ... | East with him. To my astonishment, grandfather replied that I might go if I wished. I was both glad and sorry on the day when the letter came. I stayed in my room all evening and thought things over; I even tried to persuade myself that I was standing in Lena’s way—it is so necessary to be a little noble!—and that if s... | to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a singl... | My Antonia |
“I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” | Lena | there when she spoke again.<|quote|>“I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?”</|quote|>she murmured. “I ought n’t | had hurt me was not there when she spoke again.<|quote|>“I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?”</|quote|>she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see | if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again.<|quote|>“I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?”</|quote|... | 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. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and s... | 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 ... | minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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... | persuade myself that I was standing in Lena’s way—it is so necessary to be a little noble!—and that if she had not me to play with, she would probably marry and secure her future. The next evening I went to call on Lena. I found her propped up on the couch in her bay window, with her foot in a big slipper. An awkward l... | stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.” “But you’ll be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in... | My Antonia |
she murmured. | No speaker | have begun it, ought I?”<|quote|>she murmured.</|quote|>“I ought n’t to have | again. “I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?”<|quote|>she murmured.</|quote|>“I ought n’t to have gone to see you that | down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. “I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?”<|quote|>she murmured.</|quote|>“I ought n’t to have gone to... | Jim? Have n’t I been nice to you?” “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have for... | 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... | the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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... | is so necessary to be a little noble!—and that if she had not me to play with, she would probably marry and secure her future. The next evening I went to call on Lena. I found her propped up on the couch in her bay window, with her foot in a big slipper. An awkward little Russian girl whom she had taken into her work-r... | life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in ... | My Antonia |
“I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” | Lena | it, ought I?” she murmured.<|quote|>“I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a l... | ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured.<|quote|>“I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you.... | her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. “I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured.<|quote|>“I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first t... | n’t I been nice to you?” “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all... | 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 ... | Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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 ... | necessary to be a little noble!—and that if she had not me to play with, she would probably marry and secure her future. The next evening I went to call on Lena. I found her propped up on the couch in her bay window, with her foot in a big slipper. An awkward little Russian girl whom she had taken into her work-room ha... | Did n’t you know that?” “Nonsense, Lena. That’s what girls say, but you know better. Every handsome girl like you marries, of course.” She shook her head. “Not me.” “But why not? What makes you say that?” I persisted. Lena laughed. “Well, it’s mainly because I don’t want a husband. Men are all right for friends, but a... | My Antonia |
She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. | No speaker | while, though, did n’t I?”<|quote|>She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss.</|quote|>“You are n’t sorry I | you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?”<|quote|>She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss.</|quote|>“You are n’t sorry I came to see you that | guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?”<|quote|>She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last... | close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. “I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it int... | 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. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’l... | 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 o... | Lena’s toe. On the table beside her there was a basket of early summer flowers which the Pole had left after he heard of the accident. He always managed to know what went on in Lena’s apartment. Lena was telling me some amusing piece of gossip about one of her clients, when I interrupted her and picked up the flower ba... | 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 he... | My Antonia |
“You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?” | Lena | her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss.<|quote|>“You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?”</|quote|>she whispered. “It seemed so | she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss.<|quote|>“You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?”</|quote|>she whispered. “It seemed so natural. I used to think | telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss.<|quote|>“You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?”</|quote|>she whispe... | to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone f... | 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. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the ... | 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 c... | the accident. He always managed to know what went on in Lena’s apartment. Lena was telling me some amusing piece of gossip about one of her clients, when I interrupted her and picked up the flower basket. “This old chap will be proposing to you some day, Lena.” “Oh, he has—often!” she murmured. “What! After you’ve refu... | 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... | My Antonia |
she whispered. | No speaker | to see you that time?”<|quote|>she whispered.</|quote|>“It seemed so natural. I | are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?”<|quote|>she whispered.</|quote|>“It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like | nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. “You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?”<|quote|>she whispered.</|quote|>“It seemed so natural. I used to thi... | to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet cr... | nice to you?” “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasona... | 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 t... | Lena’s apartment. Lena was telling me some amusing piece of gossip about one of her clients, when I interrupted her and picked up the flower basket. “This old chap will be proposing to you some day, Lena.” “Oh, he has—often!” she murmured. “What! After you’ve refused him?” “He does n’t mind that. It seems to cheer him ... | 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... | My Antonia |
“It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your first sweetheart. You were such a funny kid!” | Lena | you that time?” she whispered.<|quote|>“It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your first sweetheart. You were such a funny kid!”</|quote|>She always kissed one as | sorry I came to see you that time?” she whispered.<|quote|>“It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your first sweetheart. You were such a funny kid!”</|quote|>She always kissed one as if she were sadly and | you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. “You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?” she whispered.<|quote|>“It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your ... | gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature t... | you?” “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable expl... | 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 th... | Lena was telling me some amusing piece of gossip about one of her clients, when I interrupted her and picked up the flower basket. “This old chap will be proposing to you some day, Lena.” “Oh, he has—often!” she murmured. “What! After you’ve refused him?” “He does n’t mind that. It seems to cheer him to mention the sub... | away, Jim? Have n’t I been nice to you?” “You’ve been just awfully good to me, Lena,” I blurted. “I don’t think about much else. I never shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to ha... | My Antonia |
She always kissed one as if she were sadly and wisely sending one away forever. We said many good-byes before I left Lincoln, but she never tried to hinder me or hold me back. | No speaker | were such a funny kid!”<|quote|>She always kissed one as if she were sadly and wisely sending one away forever. We said many good-byes before I left Lincoln, but she never tried to hinder me or hold me back.</|quote|>“You are going, but you | be your first sweetheart. You were such a funny kid!”<|quote|>She always kissed one as if she were sadly and wisely sending one away forever. We said many good-byes before I left Lincoln, but she never tried to hinder me or hold me back.</|quote|>“You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have | loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. “You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?” she whispered. “It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your first sweetheart. You were such a funny kid!”<|quote|>She always kissed one as if she were sadly and wisel... | you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory ki... | about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she s... | 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 hea... | the flower basket. “This old chap will be proposing to you some day, Lena.” “Oh, he has—often!” she murmured. “What! After you’ve refused him?” “He does n’t mind that. It seems to cheer him to mention the subject. Old men are like that, you know. It makes them feel important to think they’re in love with somebody.” “Th... | 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 ... | My Antonia |
“You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?” | Lena | me or hold me back.<|quote|>“You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?”</|quote|>she used to say. My | she never tried to hinder me or hold me back.<|quote|>“You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?”</|quote|>she used to say. My Lincoln chapter closed abruptly. I | used to think I’d like to be your first sweetheart. You were such a funny kid!” She always kissed one as if she were sadly and wisely sending one away forever. We said many good-byes before I left Lincoln, but she never tried to hinder me or hold me back.<|quote|>“You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?”</... | for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. “You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?” she whispered. “It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your first sweetheart. You were su... | have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. “I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a lit... | 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 ha... | to mention the subject. Old men are like that, you know. It makes them feel important to think they’re in love with somebody.” “The Colonel would marry you in a minute. I hope you won’t marry some old fellow; not even a rich one.” Lena shifted her pillows and looked up at me in surprise. “Why, I’m not going to marry an... | 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. ... | My Antonia |
she used to say. My Lincoln chapter closed abruptly. I went home to my grandparents for a few weeks, and afterward visited my relatives in Virginia until I joined Cleric in Boston. I was then nineteen years old. BOOK IV—THE PIONEER WOMAN’S STORY I TWO years after I left Lincoln I completed my academic cours... | No speaker | n’t gone yet, have you?”<|quote|>she used to say. My Lincoln chapter closed abruptly. I went home to my grandparents for a few weeks, and afterward visited my relatives in Virginia until I joined Cleric in Boston. I was then nineteen years old. BOOK IV—THE PIONEER WOMAN’S STORY I TWO years after I left Linc... | are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?”<|quote|>she used to say. My Lincoln chapter closed abruptly. I went home to my grandparents for a few weeks, and afterward visited my relatives in Virginia until I joined Cleric in Boston. I was then nineteen years old. BOOK IV—THE PIONEER WOMAN’S STORY I TWO... | were such a funny kid!” She always kissed one as if she were sadly and wisely sending one away forever. We said many good-byes before I left Lincoln, but she never tried to hinder me or hold me back. “You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?”<|quote|>she used to say. My Lincoln chapter closed abruptly. I w... | sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. “You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?” she whispered. “It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your first sweetheart. You were such a funny kid!” She always kissed one as if she ... | and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. “I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, un... | 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. ... | It makes them feel important to think they’re in love with somebody.” “The Colonel would marry you in a minute. I hope you won’t marry some old fellow; not even a rich one.” Lena shifted her pillows and looked up at me in surprise. “Why, I’m not going to marry anybody. Did n’t you know that?” “Nonsense, Lena. That’s wh... | 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 ... | My Antonia |
“You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.” | Frances | her gate, she said simply,<|quote|>“You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.”</|quote|>Poor Ántonia! Every one would | had left Mrs. Harling at her gate, she said simply,<|quote|>“You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.”</|quote|>Poor Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I | managed the Harling interests in Black Hawk. When we gathered in grandmother’s parlor, I could hardly believe that I had been away at all. One subject, however, we avoided all evening. When I was walking home with Frances, after we had left Mrs. Harling at her gate, she said simply,<|quote|>“You know, of course, about ... | Law School I went home for the summer vacation. On the night of my arrival Mrs. Harling and Frances and Sally came over to greet me. Everything seemed just as it used to be. My grandparents looked very little older. Frances Harling was married now, and she and her husband managed the Harling interests in Black Hawk. Wh... | she were sadly and wisely sending one away forever. We said many good-byes before I left Lincoln, but she never tried to hinder me or hold me back. “You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?” she used to say. My Lincoln chapter closed abruptly. I went home to my grandparents for a few weeks, and afterward vi... | you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. “I ought n’t to hav... | be lonesome. You’ll get tired of this sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle... | first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, th... | My Antonia |
Poor Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I replied that grandmother had written me how Ántonia went away to marry Larry Donovan at some place where he was working; that he had deserted her, and that there was now a baby. This was all I knew. | No speaker | of course, about poor Ántonia.”<|quote|>Poor Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I replied that grandmother had written me how Ántonia went away to marry Larry Donovan at some place where he was working; that he had deserted her, and that there was now a baby. This was all I knew.</|quote|>... | she said simply, “You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.”<|quote|>Poor Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I replied that grandmother had written me how Ántonia went away to marry Larry Donovan at some place where he was working; that he had deserted her, and that there was now a baby. Th... | When we gathered in grandmother’s parlor, I could hardly believe that I had been away at all. One subject, however, we avoided all evening. When I was walking home with Frances, after we had left Mrs. Harling at her gate, she said simply, “You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.”<|quote|>Poor Ántonia! Every one would ... | summer vacation. On the night of my arrival Mrs. Harling and Frances and Sally came over to greet me. Everything seemed just as it used to be. My grandparents looked very little older. Frances Harling was married now, and she and her husband managed the Harling interests in Black Hawk. When we gathered in grandmother’s... | away forever. We said many good-byes before I left Lincoln, but she never tried to hinder me or hold me back. “You are going, but you have n’t gone yet, have you?” she used to say. My Lincoln chapter closed abruptly. I went home to my grandparents for a few weeks, and afterward visited my relatives in Virginia until I... | if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not there when she spoke again. “I ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured. “I... | sort of life, and you’ll want a family.” “Not me. I like to be lonesome. When I went to work for Mrs. Thomas I was nineteen years old, and I had never slept a night in my life when there were n’t three in the bed. I never had a minute to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her ... | 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 aw... | My Antonia |
“He never married her,” | Frances | This was all I knew.<|quote|>“He never married her,”</|quote|>Frances said. “I have n’t | there was now a baby. This was all I knew.<|quote|>“He never married her,”</|quote|>Frances said. “I have n’t seen her since she came | Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I replied that grandmother had written me how Ántonia went away to marry Larry Donovan at some place where he was working; that he had deserted her, and that there was now a baby. This was all I knew.<|quote|>“He never married her,”</|quote|>Frances said.... | we gathered in grandmother’s parlor, I could hardly believe that I had been away at all. One subject, however, we avoided all evening. When I was walking home with Frances, after we had left Mrs. Harling at her gate, she said simply, “You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.” Poor Ántonia! Every one would be saying tha... | and afterward visited my relatives in Virginia until I joined Cleric in Boston. I was then nineteen years old. BOOK IV—THE PIONEER WOMAN’S STORY I TWO years after I left Lincoln I completed my academic course at Harvard. Before I entered the Law School I went home for the summer vacation. On the night of my arrival Mrs... | ought n’t to have begun it, ought I?” she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let y... | to myself except when I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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’... | shall think about much else while I’m with you. I’ll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.” I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have forgotten all my reasonable explanations. Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt me was not ther... | My Antonia |
Frances said. | No speaker | knew. “He never married her,”<|quote|>Frances said.</|quote|>“I have n’t seen her | baby. This was all I knew. “He never married her,”<|quote|>Frances said.</|quote|>“I have n’t seen her since she came back. She | be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I replied that grandmother had written me how Ántonia went away to marry Larry Donovan at some place where he was working; that he had deserted her, and that there was now a baby. This was all I knew. “He never married her,”<|quote|>Frances said.</|quote|>“I have n’t seen her sin... | parlor, I could hardly believe that I had been away at all. One subject, however, we avoided all evening. When I was walking home with Frances, after we had left Mrs. Harling at her gate, she said simply, “You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.” Poor Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I ... | relatives in Virginia until I joined Cleric in Boston. I was then nineteen years old. BOOK IV—THE PIONEER WOMAN’S STORY I TWO years after I left Lincoln I completed my academic course at Harvard. Before I entered the Law School I went home for the summer vacation. On the night of my arrival Mrs. Harling and Frances and... | begun it, ought I?” she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a lon... | I was off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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... | let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. “You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?” she whispered. “It seemed so natural. I used to think I’d like to be your first sweethear... | My Antonia |
“I have n’t seen her since she came back. She lives at home, on the farm, and almost never comes to town. She brought the baby in to show it to mama once. I’m afraid she’s settled down to be Ambrosch’s drudge for good.” | Frances | never married her,” Frances said.<|quote|>“I have n’t seen her since she came back. She lives at home, on the farm, and almost never comes to town. She brought the baby in to show it to mama once. I’m afraid she’s settled down to be Ambrosch’s drudge for good.”</|quote|>I tried to shut Ántonia | was all I knew. “He never married her,” Frances said.<|quote|>“I have n’t seen her since she came back. She lives at home, on the farm, and almost never comes to town. She brought the baby in to show it to mama once. I’m afraid she’s settled down to be Ambrosch’s drudge for good.”</|quote|>I tried to shut Ántonia out o... | that now, I thought bitterly. I replied that grandmother had written me how Ántonia went away to marry Larry Donovan at some place where he was working; that he had deserted her, and that there was now a baby. This was all I knew. “He never married her,” Frances said.<|quote|>“I have n’t seen her since she came back. S... | could hardly believe that I had been away at all. One subject, however, we avoided all evening. When I was walking home with Frances, after we had left Mrs. Harling at her gate, she said simply, “You know, of course, about poor Ántonia.” Poor Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I replied th... | Virginia until I joined Cleric in Boston. I was then nineteen years old. BOOK IV—THE PIONEER WOMAN’S STORY I TWO years after I left Lincoln I completed my academic course at Harvard. Before I entered the Law School I went home for the summer vacation. On the night of my arrival Mrs. Harling and Frances and Sally came o... | ought I?” she murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, t... | off with the cattle.” Usually, when Lena referred to her life in the country at all, she dismissed it with a single remark, humorous or mildly cynical. 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... | murmured. “I ought n’t to have gone to see you that first time. But I did want to. I guess I’ve always been a little foolish about you. I don’t know what first put it into my head, unless it was Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t... | My Antonia |
I tried to shut Ántonia out of my mind. I was bitterly disappointed in her. I could not forgive her for becoming an object of pity, while Lena Lingard, for whom people had always foretold trouble, was now the leading dressmaker of Lincoln, much respected in Black Hawk. Lena gave her heart away when she felt like it, bu... | No speaker | be Ambrosch’s drudge for good.”<|quote|>I tried to shut Ántonia out of my mind. I was bitterly disappointed in her. I could not forgive her for becoming an object of pity, while Lena Lingard, for whom people had always foretold trouble, was now the leading dressmaker of Lincoln, much respected in Black Hawk. Lena gave ... | afraid she’s settled down to be Ambrosch’s drudge for good.”<|quote|>I tried to shut Ántonia out of my mind. I was bitterly disappointed in her. I could not forgive her for becoming an object of pity, while Lena Lingard, for whom people had always foretold trouble, was now the leading dressmaker of Lincoln, much respec... | “He never married her,” Frances said. “I have n’t seen her since she came back. She lives at home, on the farm, and almost never comes to town. She brought the baby in to show it to mama once. I’m afraid she’s settled down to be Ambrosch’s drudge for good.”<|quote|>I tried to shut Ántonia out of my mind. I was bitterly... | Ántonia! Every one would be saying that now, I thought bitterly. I replied that grandmother had written me how Ántonia went away to marry Larry Donovan at some place where he was working; that he had deserted her, and that there was now a baby. This was all I knew. “He never married her,” Frances said. “I have n’t seen... | vacation. On the night of my arrival Mrs. Harling and Frances and Sally came over to greet me. Everything seemed just as it used to be. My grandparents looked very little older. Frances Harling was married now, and she and her husband managed the Harling interests in Black Hawk. When we gathered in grandmother’s parlor... | Ántonia, always telling me I must n’t be up to any of my nonsense with you. I let you alone for a long while, though, did n’t I?” She was a sweet creature to those she loved, that Lena Lingard! At last she sent me away with her soft, slow, renunciatory kiss. “You are n’t sorry I came to see you that time?” she whisper... | 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 f... | 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 t... | My Antonia |
“Lincoln was never any place for her,” | Tiny | and go into business there.<|quote|>“Lincoln was never any place for her,”</|quote|>Tiny remarked. “In a town | to come to San Francisco and go into business there.<|quote|>“Lincoln was never any place for her,”</|quote|>Tiny remarked. “In a town of that size Lena would | said frankly that nothing interested her much now but making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there.<|quote|>“Lincoln was never any place for he... | very well-dressed, very reserved in manner. Curiously enough, she reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the desperate chances she had taken in the gold country, but the thrill of them was quite gone. She said frankly that nothing interested her much n... | world without feet? He did, in fact, die from the operation, but not before he had deeded Tiny Soderball his claim on Hunker Creek. Tiny sold her hotel, invested half her money in Dawson building lots, and with the rest she developed her claim. She went off into the wilds and lived on it. She bought other claims from d... | Creek. Two days later Tiny and her friends, and nearly every one else in Circle City, started for the Klondike fields on the last steamer that went up the Yukon before it froze for the winter. That boatload of people founded Dawson City. Within a few weeks there were fifteen hundred homeless men in camp. Tiny and the c... | quietly gone West to try her fortune the year before. A Black Hawk boy, just back from Seattle, brought the news that Tiny had not gone to the coast on a venture, as she had allowed people to think, but with very definite plans. One of the roving promoters that used to stop at Mrs. Gardener’s hotel owned idle property ... | whose legs had been frozen one night in a storm when he was trying to find his way back to his cabin. The poor fellow thought it great good fortune to be cared for by a woman, and a woman who spoke his own tongue. When he was told that his feet must be amputated, he said he hoped he would not get well; what could a wor... | My Antonia |
Tiny remarked. | No speaker | never any place for her,”<|quote|>Tiny remarked.</|quote|>“In a town of that | into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,”<|quote|>Tiny remarked.</|quote|>“In a town of that size Lena would always be | now but making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,”<|quote|>Tiny remarked.</|quote|>“In a town of that... | enough, she reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the desperate chances she had taken in the gold country, but the thrill of them was quite gone. She said frankly that nothing interested her much now but making money. The only two human beings of whom... | die from the operation, but not before he had deeded Tiny Soderball his claim on Hunker Creek. Tiny sold her hotel, invested half her money in Dawson building lots, and with the rest she developed her claim. She went off into the wilds and lived on it. She bought other claims from discouraged miners, traded or sold the... | friends, and nearly every one else in Circle City, started for the Klondike fields on the last steamer that went up the Yukon before it froze for the winter. That boatload of people founded Dawson City. Within a few weeks there were fifteen hundred homeless men in camp. Tiny and the carpenter’s wife began to cook for t... | the year before. A Black Hawk boy, just back from Seattle, brought the news that Tiny had not gone to the coast on a venture, as she had allowed people to think, but with very definite plans. One of the roving promoters that used to stop at Mrs. Gardener’s hotel owned idle property along the water-front in Seattle, and... | we could have known what her future was really to be! Of all the girls and boys who grew up together in Black Hawk, Tiny Soderball was to lead the most adventurous life and to achieve the most solid worldly success. This is what actually happened to Tiny: While she was running her lodging-house in Seattle, gold was dis... | My Antonia |
“In a town of that size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisco’s the right field for her. She has a fine class of trade. Oh, she’s just the same as she always was! She’s careless, but she’s level-headed. She’s the only person I know who never gets any older. It’s fine for me to have her there; somebody who enjoys ... | Tiny | place for her,” Tiny remarked.<|quote|>“In a town of that size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisco’s the right field for her. She has a fine class of trade. Oh, she’s just the same as she always was! She’s careless, but she’s level-headed. She’s the only person I know who never gets any older. It’s fine for me ... | there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,” Tiny remarked.<|quote|>“In a town of that size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisco’s the right field for her. She has a fine class of trade. Oh, she’s just the same as she always was! She’s careless, but she’s level-headed. She’s the only person I know who never get... | making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,” Tiny remarked.<|quote|>“In a town of that size Lena would ... | reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the desperate chances she had taken in the gold country, but the thrill of them was quite gone. She said frankly that nothing interested her much now but making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke w... | the operation, but not before he had deeded Tiny Soderball his claim on Hunker Creek. Tiny sold her hotel, invested half her money in Dawson building lots, and with the rest she developed her claim. She went off into the wilds and lived on it. She bought other claims from discouraged miners, traded or sold them on perc... | nearly every one else in Circle City, started for the Klondike fields on the last steamer that went up the Yukon before it froze for the winter. That boatload of people founded Dawson City. Within a few weeks there were fifteen hundred homeless men in camp. Tiny and the carpenter’s wife began to cook for them, in a ten... | before. A Black Hawk boy, just back from Seattle, brought the news that Tiny had not gone to the coast on a venture, as she had allowed people to think, but with very definite plans. One of the roving promoters that used to stop at Mrs. Gardener’s hotel owned idle property along the water-front in Seattle, and he had o... | over the Chilkoot Pass, and shot the Yukon in flatboats. They reached Circle City on the very day when some Siwash Indians came into the settlement with the report that there had been a rich gold strike farther up the river, on a certain Klondike Creek. Two days later Tiny and her friends, and nearly every one else in ... | My Antonia |
Tiny limped slightly when she walked. The claim on Hunker Creek took toll from its possessors. Tiny had been caught in a sudden turn of weather, like poor Johnson. She lost three toes from one of those pretty little feet that used to trip about Black Hawk in pointed slippers and striped stockings. Tiny mentioned this m... | No speaker | enough, I can tell you!”<|quote|>Tiny limped slightly when she walked. The claim on Hunker Creek took toll from its possessors. Tiny had been caught in a sudden turn of weather, like poor Johnson. She lost three toes from one of those pretty little feet that used to trip about Black Hawk in pointed slippers and striped... | home—with a bill that’s long enough, I can tell you!”<|quote|>Tiny limped slightly when she walked. The claim on Hunker Creek took toll from its possessors. Tiny had been caught in a sudden turn of weather, like poor Johnson. She lost three toes from one of those pretty little feet that used to trip about Black Hawk in... | It’s fine for me to have her there; somebody who enjoys things like that. She keeps an eye on me and won’t let me be shabby. When she thinks I need a new dress, she makes it and sends it home—with a bill that’s long enough, I can tell you!”<|quote|>Tiny limped slightly when she walked. The claim on Hunker Creek took to... | “In a town of that size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisco’s the right field for her. She has a fine class of trade. Oh, she’s just the same as she always was! She’s careless, but she’s level-headed. She’s the only person I know who never gets any older. It’s fine for me to have her there; somebody who enjoys ... | reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the desperate chances she had taken in the gold country, but the thrill of them was quite gone. She said frankly that nothing interested her much now but making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke w... | fresh bread from her, and paid for it in gold. That winter Tiny kept in her hotel a Swede whose legs had been frozen one night in a storm when he was trying to find his way back to his cabin. The poor fellow thought it great good fortune to be cared for by a woman, and a woman who spoke his own tongue. When he was told... | could n’t keep it up; all sailors’ boarding-houses were alike. When I thought about it, I discovered that I had never known Tiny as well as I knew the other girls. I remembered her tripping briskly about the dining-room on her high heels, carrying a big tray full of dishes, glancing rather pertly at the spruce travelin... | 1908. She was a thin, hard-faced woman, very well-dressed, very reserved in manner. Curiously enough, she reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the desperate chances she had taken in the gold country, but the thrill of them was quite gone. She said fr... | My Antonia |
“crayon enlargements” | No speaker | frame, one of those depressing<|quote|>“crayon enlargements”</|quote|>often seen in farmhouse parlors, | I noticed, in a heavy frame, one of those depressing<|quote|>“crayon enlargements”</|quote|>often seen in farmhouse parlors, the subject being a round-eyed | for sittings. While I was waiting for him to come out of his developing-room, I walked about trying to recognize the likenesses on his walls: girls in Commencement dresses, country brides and grooms holding hands, family groups of three generations. I noticed, in a heavy frame, one of those depressing<|quote|>“crayon e... | satisfied with her success, but not elated. She was like some one in whom the faculty of becoming interested is worn out. II SOON after I got home that summer I persuaded my grandparents to have their photographs taken, and one morning I went into the photographer’s shop to arrange for sittings. While I was waiting for... | an eye on me and won’t let me be shabby. When she thinks I need a new dress, she makes it and sends it home—with a bill that’s long enough, I can tell you!” Tiny limped slightly when she walked. The claim on Hunker Creek took toll from its possessors. Tiny had been caught in a sudden turn of weather, like poor Johnson.... | returned, with a considerable fortune, to live in San Francisco. I met her in Salt Lake City in 1908. She was a thin, hard-faced woman, very well-dressed, very reserved in manner. Curiously enough, she reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the despera... | her lodging-house in Seattle, gold was discovered in Alaska. Miners and sailors came back from the North with wonderful stories and pouches of gold. Tiny saw it and weighed it in her hands. That daring which nobody had ever suspected in her, awoke. She sold her business and set out for Circle City, in company with a ca... | with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,” Tiny remarked. “In a town of that size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisco’s the right field for her. She ha... | My Antonia |
often seen in farmhouse parlors, the subject being a round-eyed baby in short dresses. The photographer came out and gave a constrained, apologetic laugh. | No speaker | of those depressing “crayon enlargements”<|quote|>often seen in farmhouse parlors, the subject being a round-eyed baby in short dresses. The photographer came out and gave a constrained, apologetic laugh.</|quote|>“That’s Tony Shimerda’s baby. You | in a heavy frame, one of those depressing “crayon enlargements”<|quote|>often seen in farmhouse parlors, the subject being a round-eyed baby in short dresses. The photographer came out and gave a constrained, apologetic laugh.</|quote|>“That’s Tony Shimerda’s baby. You remember her; she used to | While I was waiting for him to come out of his developing-room, I walked about trying to recognize the likenesses on his walls: girls in Commencement dresses, country brides and grooms holding hands, family groups of three generations. I noticed, in a heavy frame, one of those depressing “crayon enlargements”<|quote|>o... | her success, but not elated. She was like some one in whom the faculty of becoming interested is worn out. II SOON after I got home that summer I persuaded my grandparents to have their photographs taken, and one morning I went into the photographer’s shop to arrange for sittings. While I was waiting for him to come ou... | on me and won’t let me be shabby. When she thinks I need a new dress, she makes it and sends it home—with a bill that’s long enough, I can tell you!” Tiny limped slightly when she walked. The claim on Hunker Creek took toll from its possessors. Tiny had been caught in a sudden turn of weather, like poor Johnson. She lo... | a considerable fortune, to live in San Francisco. I met her in Salt Lake City in 1908. She was a thin, hard-faced woman, very well-dressed, very reserved in manner. Curiously enough, she reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the desperate chances she ... | in Seattle, gold was discovered in Alaska. Miners and sailors came back from the North with wonderful stories and pouches of gold. Tiny saw it and weighed it in her hands. That daring which nobody had ever suspected in her, awoke. She sold her business and set out for Circle City, in company with a carpenter and his wi... | to his cabin. The poor fellow thought it great good fortune to be cared for by a woman, and a woman who spoke his own tongue. When he was told that his feet must be amputated, he said he hoped he would not get well; what could a working-man do in this hard world without feet? He did, in fact, die from the operation, bu... | My Antonia |
I went away feeling that I must see Ántonia again. Another girl would have kept her baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herself away on such a cheap sort of ... | No speaker | be in for it Saturday.”<|quote|>I went away feeling that I must see Ántonia again. Another girl would have kept her baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herse... | I expect her brother will be in for it Saturday.”<|quote|>I went away feeling that I must see Ántonia again. Another girl would have kept her baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, i... | out and gave a constrained, apologetic laugh. “That’s Tony Shimerda’s baby. You remember her; she used to be the Harling’s Tony. Too bad! She seems proud of the baby, though; would n’t hear to a cheap frame for the picture. I expect her brother will be in for it Saturday.”<|quote|>I went away feeling that I must see Án... | recognize the likenesses on his walls: girls in Commencement dresses, country brides and grooms holding hands, family groups of three generations. I noticed, in a heavy frame, one of those depressing “crayon enlargements” often seen in farmhouse parlors, the subject being a round-eyed baby in short dresses. The photogr... | of those pretty little feet that used to trip about Black Hawk in pointed slippers and striped stockings. Tiny mentioned this mutilation quite casually—did n’t seem sensitive about it. She was satisfied with her success, but not elated. She was like some one in whom the faculty of becoming interested is worn out. II SO... | of them was quite gone. She said frankly that nothing interested her much now but making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was ne... | her. They reached Skaguay in a snowstorm, went in dog sledges over the Chilkoot Pass, and shot the Yukon in flatboats. They reached Circle City on the very day when some Siwash Indians came into the settlement with the report that there had been a rich gold strike farther up the river, on a certain Klondike Creek. Two ... | what could a working-man do in this hard world without feet? He did, in fact, die from the operation, but not before he had deeded Tiny Soderball his claim on Hunker Creek. Tiny sold her hotel, invested half her money in Dawson building lots, and with the rest she developed her claim. She went off into the wilds and li... | My Antonia |
“Mrs. Harling,” | Jim | a nest in its branches.<|quote|>“Mrs. Harling,”</|quote|>I said presently, “I wish | the oriole family that had a nest in its branches.<|quote|>“Mrs. Harling,”</|quote|>I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly | that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took the spade away from Mrs. Harling, and while I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches.<|quote|>“Mrs. Harling,”</|quote|>I said presently, “I wish I could find ou... | her yard, digging round her mountain-ash tree. It was a dry summer, and she had now no boy to help her. Charley was off in his battleship, cruising somewhere on the Caribbean sea. I turned in at the gate—it was with a feeling of pleasure that I opened and shut that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my ha... | deliberate look. He took women, married or single, into his confidence; walked them up and down in the moonlight, telling them what a mistake he had made by not entering the office branch of the service, and how much better fitted he was to fill the post of General Passenger Agent in Denver than the roughshod man who t... | kept her baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herself away on such a cheap sort of fellow. Larry Donovan was a passenger conductor, one of those train-crew ar... | but making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,” Tiny remarked. “In a town of that size Lena would alwa... | will be in for it Saturday.” I went away feeling that I must see Ántonia again. Another girl would have kept her baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herself ... | My Antonia |
I said presently, | No speaker | in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,”<|quote|>I said presently,</|quote|>“I wish I could find | family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,”<|quote|>I said presently,</|quote|>“I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage | in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took the spade away from Mrs. Harling, and while I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,”<|quote|>I said presently,</|quote|>“I wish I could find out exactly ... | digging round her mountain-ash tree. It was a dry summer, and she had now no boy to help her. Charley was off in his battleship, cruising somewhere on the Caribbean sea. I turned in at the gate—it was with a feeling of pleasure that I opened and shut that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took... | He took women, married or single, into his confidence; walked them up and down in the moonlight, telling them what a mistake he had made by not entering the office branch of the service, and how much better fitted he was to fill the post of General Passenger Agent in Denver than the roughshod man who then bore that tit... | baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herself away on such a cheap sort of fellow. Larry Donovan was a passenger conductor, one of those train-crew aristocrats... | money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,” Tiny remarked. “In a town of that size Lena would always be gossi... | the street, where there were no car-windows to compromise his dignity. At the end of his run he stepped indifferently from the train along with the passengers, his street hat on his head and his conductor’s cap in an alligator-skin bag, went directly into the station and changed his clothes. It was a matter of the utmo... | My Antonia |
“I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.” | Jim | “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently,<|quote|>“I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.”</|quote|>“Why don’t you go out | a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently,<|quote|>“I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.”</|quote|>“Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, | I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took the spade away from Mrs. Harling, and while I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently,<|quote|>“I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage f... | mountain-ash tree. It was a dry summer, and she had now no boy to help her. Charley was off in his battleship, cruising somewhere on the Caribbean sea. I turned in at the gate—it was with a feeling of pleasure that I opened and shut that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took the spade away fr... | married or single, into his confidence; walked them up and down in the moonlight, telling them what a mistake he had made by not entering the office branch of the service, and how much better fitted he was to fill the post of General Passenger Agent in Denver than the roughshod man who then bore that title. His unappre... | sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herself away on such a cheap sort of fellow. Larry Donovan was a passenger conductor, one of those train-crew aristocrats who are alw... | two human beings of whom she spoke with any feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,” Tiny remarked. “In a town of that size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisc... | constrained, apologetic laugh. “That’s Tony Shimerda’s baby. You remember her; she used to be the Harling’s Tony. Too bad! She seems proud of the baby, though; would n’t hear to a cheap frame for the picture. I expect her brother will be in for it Saturday.” I went away feeling that I must see Ántonia again. Another gi... | My Antonia |
“Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you everything. Besides, the Widow Steavens is a good ... | Mrs. Harling | how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.”<|quote|>“Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you ever... | I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.”<|quote|>“Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born... | spade away from Mrs. Harling, and while I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.”<|quote|>“Why don’t you go out and see your ... | boy to help her. Charley was off in his battleship, cruising somewhere on the Caribbean sea. I turned in at the gate—it was with a feeling of pleasure that I opened and shut that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took the spade away from Mrs. Harling, and while I loosened the earth around the ... | the moonlight, telling them what a mistake he had made by not entering the office branch of the service, and how much better fitted he was to fill the post of General Passenger Agent in Denver than the roughshod man who then bore that title. His unappreciated worth was the tender secret Larry shared with his sweetheart... | the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herself away on such a cheap sort of fellow. Larry Donovan was a passenger conductor, one of those train-crew aristocrats who are always afraid that some one may ask them to put up a car-window, and w... | Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into business there. “Lincoln was never any place for her,” Tiny remarked. “In a town of that size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisco’s the right field for her. She has a fine class of trade. O... | and down in the moonlight, telling them what a mistake he had made by not entering the office branch of the service, and how much better fitted he was to fill the post of General Passenger Agent in Denver than the roughshod man who then bore that title. His unappreciated worth was the tender secret Larry shared with hi... | My Antonia |
III ON the first or second day of August I got a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat harvest was over, and here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke from the steam thrashing-machines. The old pasture land was now being broken up into wheatfie... | No speaker | she has a remarkable memory.”<|quote|>III ON the first or second day of August I got a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat harvest was over, and here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke from the steam thrashing-machines. The old pasture land... | is a good talker, and she has a remarkable memory.”<|quote|>III ON the first or second day of August I got a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat harvest was over, and here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke from the steam thrashing-machines... | about it than anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you everything. Besides, the Widow Steavens is a good talker, and she has a remarkable memory.”<|quote|>III ON the first or second day of August... | down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.” “Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helpe... | heart ache over it. As I drew near home that morning, I saw Mrs. Harling out in her yard, digging round her mountain-ash tree. It was a dry summer, and she had now no boy to help her. Charley was off in his battleship, cruising somewhere on the Caribbean sea. I turned in at the gate—it was with a feeling of pleasure th... | menial service, silently point to the button that calls the porter. Larry wore this air of official aloofness even on the street, where there were no car-windows to compromise his dignity. At the end of his run he stepped indifferently from the train along with the passengers, his street hat on his head and his conduct... | always was! She’s careless, but she’s level-headed. She’s the only person I know who never gets any older. It’s fine for me to have her there; somebody who enjoys things like that. She keeps an eye on me and won’t let me be shabby. When she thinks I need a new dress, she makes it and sends it home—with a bill that’s lo... | I must see Ántonia again. Another girl would have kept her baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive her, I told myself, if she had n’t thrown herself away on such a cheap sort of fellow. Larry Donovan was... | My Antonia |
“You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.” | Widow Steavens | once why I had come.<|quote|>“You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.”</|quote|>While I was putting my | senator’s. I told her at once why I had come.<|quote|>“You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.”</|quote|>While I was putting my horse away I heard a | drew up to our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, her massive head had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come.<|quote|>“You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after suppe... | seemed beautiful and harmonious to me; it was like watching the growth of a great man or of a great idea. I recognized every tree and sandbank and rugged draw. I found that I remembered the conformation of the land as one remembers the modeling of human faces. When I drew up to our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came... | old pasture land was now being broken up into wheatfields and cornfields, the red grass was disappearing, and the whole face of the country was changing. There were wooden houses where the old sod dwellings used to be, and little orchards, and big red barns; all this meant happy children, contented women, and men who s... | turned in at the gate—it was with a feeling of pleasure that I opened and shut that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took the spade away from Mrs. Harling, and while I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branc... | photographer came out and gave a constrained, apologetic laugh. “That’s Tony Shimerda’s baby. You remember her; she used to be the Harling’s Tony. Too bad! She seems proud of the baby, though; would n’t hear to a cheap frame for the picture. I expect her brother will be in for it Saturday.” I went away feeling that I m... | round her mountain-ash tree. It was a dry summer, and she had now no boy to help her. Charley was off in his battleship, cruising somewhere on the Caribbean sea. I turned in at the gate—it was with a feeling of pleasure that I opened and shut that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand. I took the spa... | My Antonia |
While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I must eat him at six. After supper Mrs. Steavens and I went upstairs to the old sitting-room, while her grave, silent brother remained in the basement to read his farm papers. All the ... | No speaker | supper? Some have, these days.”<|quote|>While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I must eat him at six. After supper Mrs. Steavens and I went upstairs to the old sitting-room, while her grave, silent brother remained in the ba... | prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.”<|quote|>While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I must eat him at six. After supper Mrs. Steavens and I went upstairs to the old sitting-room, while her grave,... | like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.”<|quote|>While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster s... | of the land as one remembers the modeling of human faces. When I drew up to our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, her massive head had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll st... | be, and little orchards, and big red barns; all this meant happy children, contented women, and men who saw their lives coming to a fortunate issue. The windy springs and the blazing summers, one after another, had enriched and mellowed that flat tableland; all the human effort that had gone into it was coming back in ... | Harling, and while I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.” “Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Wid... | cheap frame for the picture. I expect her brother will be in for it Saturday.” I went away feeling that I must see Ántonia again. Another girl would have kept her baby out of sight, but Tony, of course, must have its picture on exhibition at the town photographer’s, in a great gilt frame. How like her! I could forgive ... | was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you everything. Besides, the Widow Steavens is a good talker, and she has a remarkable memory.” III ON the first or second day of August I got a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. T... | My Antonia |
“I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,” | Widow Steavens | comfortably under her tired feet.<|quote|>“I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,”</|quote|>she sighed cheerfully. She crossed | and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet.<|quote|>“I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,”</|quote|>she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap | summer moon was shining outside, the windmill was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet.<|quote|>“I’m troubled with callouses, Jim... | watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I must eat him at six. After supper Mrs. Steavens and I went upstairs to the old sitting-room, while her grave, silent brother remained in the basement to read his farm papers. All the windows were open. The white summer moon was shining outside, the windmill was ... | our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, her massive head had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more ... | or second day of August I got a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat harvest was over, and here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke from the steam thrashing-machines. The old pasture land was now being broken up into wheatfields and cornfields,... | to the button that calls the porter. Larry wore this air of official aloofness even on the street, where there were no car-windows to compromise his dignity. At the end of his run he stepped indifferently from the train along with the passengers, his street hat on his head and his conductor’s cap in an alligator-skin b... | I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.” “Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She kn... | My Antonia |
she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap and sat as if she were at a meeting of some kind. | No speaker | with callouses, Jim; getting old,”<|quote|>she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap and sat as if she were at a meeting of some kind.</|quote|>“Now, it’s about that dear | her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,”<|quote|>she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap and sat as if she were at a meeting of some kind.</|quote|>“Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? | was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,”<|quote|>she sighed cheerfully. She cro... | and I knew that I must eat him at six. After supper Mrs. Steavens and I went upstairs to the old sitting-room, while her grave, silent brother remained in the basement to read his farm papers. All the windows were open. The white summer moon was shining outside, the windmill was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My h... | out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, her massive head had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’... | a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat harvest was over, and here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke from the steam thrashing-machines. The old pasture land was now being broken up into wheatfields and cornfields, the red grass was disappearin... | Larry wore this air of official aloofness even on the street, where there were no car-windows to compromise his dignity. At the end of his run he stepped indifferently from the train along with the passengers, his street hat on his head and his conductor’s cap in an alligator-skin bag, went directly into the station an... | “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.” “Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took ... | My Antonia |
“Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter. | Widow Steavens | a meeting of some kind.<|quote|>“Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter.</|quote|>“When she came home to | as if she were at a meeting of some kind.<|quote|>“Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter.</|quote|>“When she came home to do her sewing that summer | because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,” she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap and sat as if she were at a meeting of some kind.<|quote|>“Now, it’s about that dear Ánton... | while her grave, silent brother remained in the basement to read his farm papers. All the windows were open. The white summer moon was shining outside, the windmill was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favori... | had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.” While I was putting my horse away I h... | here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke from the steam thrashing-machines. The old pasture land was now being broken up into wheatfields and cornfields, the red grass was disappearing, and the whole face of the country was changing. There were wooden houses where the old sod dwellings used to ... | end of his run he stepped indifferently from the train along with the passengers, his street hat on his head and his conductor’s cap in an alligator-skin bag, went directly into the station and changed his clothes. It was a matter of the utmost importance to him never to be seen in his blue trousers away from his train... | go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you everything. Besides, the Widow Steavens is a good talker, and she... | My Antonia |
“When she came home to do her sewing that summer before she was to be married, she was over here about every day. They’ve never had a sewing machine at the Shimerdas’, and she made all her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut and fit. She used to sit there at that machine by the window, pedal... | Widow Steavens | she’d been my own daughter.<|quote|>“When she came home to do her sewing that summer before she was to be married, she was over here about every day. They’ve never had a sewing machine at the Shimerdas’, and she made all her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut and fit. She used to sit there ... | person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter.<|quote|>“When she came home to do her sewing that summer before she was to be married, she was over here about every day. They’ve never had a sewing machine at the Shimerdas’, and she made all her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut a... | getting old,” she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap and sat as if she were at a meeting of some kind. “Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter.<|quote|>“When she came home to do her sewing that summer b... | the windmill was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,” she sighed cheerfully. Sh... | talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.” While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I must eat him at six. After ... | into wheatfields and cornfields, the red grass was disappearing, and the whole face of the country was changing. There were wooden houses where the old sod dwellings used to be, and little orchards, and big red barns; all this meant happy children, contented women, and men who saw their lives coming to a fortunate issu... | alligator-skin bag, went directly into the station and changed his clothes. It was a matter of the utmost importance to him never to be seen in his blue trousers away from his train. He was usually cold and distant with men, but with all women he had a silent, grave familiarity, a special handshake, accompanied by a si... | told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.” While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and... | My Antonia |
“‘Ántonia,’ I used to say, ‘don’t run that machine so fast. You won’t hasten the day none that way.’ | Widow Steavens | happiest thing in the world.<|quote|>“‘Ántonia,’ I used to say, ‘don’t run that machine so fast. You won’t hasten the day none that way.’</|quote|>“Then she’d laugh and slow | songs, like she was the happiest thing in the world.<|quote|>“‘Ántonia,’ I used to say, ‘don’t run that machine so fast. You won’t hasten the day none that way.’</|quote|>“Then she’d laugh and slow down for a little, but | her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut and fit. She used to sit there at that machine by the window, pedaling the life out of it—she was so strong—and always singing them queer Bohemian songs, like she was the happiest thing in the world.<|quote|>“‘Ántonia,’ I used to say, ‘don’t run that m... | come to the right person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter. “When she came home to do her sewing that summer before she was to be married, she was over here about every day. They’ve never had a sewing machine at the Shimerdas’, and she made all her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped he... | farm papers. All the windows were open. The white summer moon was shining outside, the windmill was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tir... | sweeping lines of fertility. The changes seemed beautiful and harmonious to me; it was like watching the growth of a great man or of a great idea. I recognized every tree and sandbank and rugged draw. I found that I remembered the conformation of the land as one remembers the modeling of human faces. When I drew up to ... | not entering the office branch of the service, and how much better fitted he was to fill the post of General Passenger Agent in Denver than the roughshod man who then bore that title. His unappreciated worth was the tender secret Larry shared with his sweethearts, and he was always able to make some foolish heart ache ... | great idea. I recognized every tree and sandbank and rugged draw. I found that I remembered the conformation of the land as one remembers the modeling of human faces. When I drew up to our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, h... | My Antonia |
“Then she’d laugh and slow down for a little, but she’d soon forget and begin to pedal and sing again. I never saw a girl work harder to go to housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We hemstitched all the tablecloths a... | Widow Steavens | the day none that way.’<|quote|>“Then she’d laugh and slow down for a little, but she’d soon forget and begin to pedal and sing again. I never saw a girl work harder to go to housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We h... | so fast. You won’t hasten the day none that way.’<|quote|>“Then she’d laugh and slow down for a little, but she’d soon forget and begin to pedal and sing again. I never saw a girl work harder to go to housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice... | there at that machine by the window, pedaling the life out of it—she was so strong—and always singing them queer Bohemian songs, like she was the happiest thing in the world. “‘Ántonia,’ I used to say, ‘don’t run that machine so fast. You won’t hasten the day none that way.’<|quote|>“Then she’d laugh and slow down for ... | do her sewing that summer before she was to be married, she was over here about every day. They’ve never had a sewing machine at the Shimerdas’, and she made all her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut and fit. She used to sit there at that machine by the window, pedaling the life out of it—... | in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,” she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap a... | a great man or of a great idea. I recognized every tree and sandbank and rugged draw. I found that I remembered the conformation of the land as one remembers the modeling of human faces. When I drew up to our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. ... | of General Passenger Agent in Denver than the roughshod man who then bore that title. His unappreciated worth was the tender secret Larry shared with his sweethearts, and he was always able to make some foolish heart ache over it. As I drew near home that morning, I saw Mrs. Harling out in her yard, digging round her m... | tell you everything. Besides, the Widow Steavens is a good talker, and she has a remarkable memory.” III ON the first or second day of August I got a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat harvest was over, and here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs o... | My Antonia |
“The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though. | Widow Steavens | different towns along his run.<|quote|>“The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’... | her real often, from the different towns along his run.<|quote|>“The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping ch... | told me just how she meant to have everything in her house. She’d even bought silver spoons and forks, and kept them in her trunk. She was always coaxing brother to go to the post-office. Her young man did write her real often, from the different towns along his run.<|quote|>“The first thing that troubled her was when ... | to go to housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We hemstitched all the tablecloths and pillow-cases, and some of the sheets. Old Mrs. Shimerda knit yards and yards of lace for her underclothes. Tony told me just how sh... | and she made all her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut and fit. She used to sit there at that machine by the window, pedaling the life out of it—she was so strong—and always singing them queer Bohemian songs, like she was the happiest thing in the world. “‘Ántonia,’ I used to say, ‘don’t r... | putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I must eat him at six. After supper Mrs. Steavens and I went upstairs to the old sitting-room, while her grave, silent brother remained in the basement to read his farm papers. All the windows were ... | I loosened the earth around the tree, she sat down on the steps and talked about the oriole family that had a nest in its branches. “Mrs. Harling,” I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.” “Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She kn... | she was over here about every day. They’ve never had a sewing machine at the Shimerdas’, and she made all her things here. I taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut and fit. She used to sit there at that machine by the window, pedaling the life out of it—she was so strong—and always singing them queer Bohemian... | My Antonia |
“At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then that she’d begun to get faint-hearted, waiting; though she’d never let me see it. | Widow Steavens | She soon cheered up, though.<|quote|>“At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then that she’d begun to get faint-hearted, waiting; though she’d never let me see it.</|quote|>“Then there was a great | chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though.<|quote|>“At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then that she’d begun to get faint-hearted, waiting; though she’d never let me see it.</|quote|>“Then there was a great ti... | run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though.<|quote|>“At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was s... | She’d even bought silver spoons and forks, and kept them in her trunk. She was always coaxing brother to go to the post-office. Her young man did write her real often, from the different towns along his run. “The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have t... | machine so fast. You won’t hasten the day none that way.’ “Then she’d laugh and slow down for a little, but she’d soon forget and begin to pedal and sing again. I never saw a girl work harder to go to housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice... | white summer moon was shining outside, the windmill was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; ... | anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you everything. Besides, the Widow Steavens is a good talker, and she has a remarkable memory.” III ON the first or second day of August I got a horse and car... | you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.” While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I must eat him at six. After supper M... | My Antonia |
“Then there was a great time of packing. It was in March, if I remember rightly, and a terrible muddy, raw spell, with the roads bad for hauling her things to town. And here let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He went to Black Hawk and bought her a set of plated silver in a purple velvet box, good enough for her ... | Widow Steavens | never let me see it.<|quote|>“Then there was a great time of packing. It was in March, if I remember rightly, and a terrible muddy, raw spell, with the roads bad for hauling her things to town. And here let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He went to Black Hawk and bought her a set of plated silver in a purple vel... | get faint-hearted, waiting; though she’d never let me see it.<|quote|>“Then there was a great time of packing. It was in March, if I remember rightly, and a terrible muddy, raw spell, with the roads bad for hauling her things to town. And here let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He went to Black Hawk and bought h... | a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though. “At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then that she’d begun to get faint-hearted, waiting; though she’d never let me see it.<|quote|>“Then there was a great time of packing. It was in Marc... | her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though. “At last she got the letter telling her ... | and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We hemstitched all the tablecloths and pillow-cases, and some of the sheets. Old Mrs. Shimerda knit yards and yards of lace for her underclothes. Tony told me just how she meant to have everything i... | a little stool comfortably under her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; getting old,” she sighed cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap and sat as if she were at a meeting of some kind. “Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve watched her like sh... | has a remarkable memory.” III ON the first or second day of August I got a horse and cart and set out for the high country, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat harvest was over, and here and there along the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke from the steam thrashing-machines. The old pasture land was now bei... | hasten the day none that way.’ “Then she’d laugh and slow down for a little, but she’d soon forget and begin to pedal and sing again. I never saw a girl work harder to go to housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We he... | My Antonia |
“’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was cry... | Widow Steavens | glad to see it, son.’<|quote|>“’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her... | Ambrosch,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’<|quote|>“’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked... | her three hundred dollars in money; I saw the check. He’d collected her wages all those first years she worked out, and it was but right. I shook him by the hand in this room. ‘You’re behaving like a man, Ambrosch,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’<|quote|>“’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks... | a terrible muddy, raw spell, with the roads bad for hauling her things to town. And here let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He went to Black Hawk and bought her a set of plated silver in a purple velvet box, good enough for her station. He gave her three hundred dollars in money; I saw the check. He’d collected ... | live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though. “At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I ... | sit there at that machine by the window, pedaling the life out of it—she was so strong—and always singing them queer Bohemian songs, like she was the happiest thing in the world. “‘Ántonia,’ I used to say, ‘don’t run that machine so fast. You won’t hasten the day none that way.’ “Then she’d laugh and slow down for a li... | issue. The windy springs and the blazing summers, one after another, had enriched and mellowed that flat tableland; all the human effort that had gone into it was coming back in long, sweeping lines of fertility. The changes seemed beautiful and harmonious to me; it was like watching the growth of a great man or of a g... | cheerfully. She crossed her hands in her lap and sat as if she were at a meeting of some kind. “Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter. “When she came home to do her sewing that summer before she was to be married, she ... | My Antonia |
“‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over. | Widow Steavens | was all wet with rain.<|quote|>“‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over.</|quote|>“She laughed kind of flighty | time, and her red cheeks was all wet with rain.<|quote|>“‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over.</|quote|>“She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye, dear | wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and her red cheeks was all wet with rain.<|quote|>“‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over.</|... | hand in this room. ‘You’re behaving like a man, Ambrosch,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’ “’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her a... | see it. “Then there was a great time of packing. It was in March, if I remember rightly, and a terrible muddy, raw spell, with the roads bad for hauling her things to town. And here let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He went to Black Hawk and bought her a set of plated silver in a purple velvet box, good enough ... | housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table linen the Harlings had given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We hemstitched all the tablecloths and pillow-cases, and some of the sheets. Old Mrs. Shimerda knit yards and yards of lace for her underclothes. Tony told me just how she meant t... | the modeling of human faces. When I drew up to our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, her massive head had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? ... | towns along his run. “The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered ... | My Antonia |
“She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye, dear house!’ and then ran out to the wagon. I expect she meant that for you and your grandmother, as much as for me, so I’m particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her. | Widow Steavens | I said, looking her over.<|quote|>“She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye, dear house!’ and then ran out to the wagon. I expect she meant that for you and your grandmother, as much as for me, so I’m particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her.</|quote|>“Well, in a few days | handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over.<|quote|>“She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye, dear house!’ and then ran out to the wagon. I expect she meant that for you and your grandmother, as much as for me, so I’m particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her.</|q... | her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and her red cheeks was all wet with rain. “‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over.<|quote|>“She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye,... | ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’ “’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for he... | in March, if I remember rightly, and a terrible muddy, raw spell, with the roads bad for hauling her things to town. And here let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He went to Black Hawk and bought her a set of plated silver in a purple velvet box, good enough for her station. He gave her three hundred dollars in mo... | and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We hemstitched all the tablecloths and pillow-cases, and some of the sheets. Old Mrs. Shimerda knit yards and yards of lace for her underclothes. Tony told me just how she meant to have everything in her house. She’d even bought silver spoons and forks, and kept t... | windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, her massive head had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest... | things from Lincoln. We hemstitched all the tablecloths and pillow-cases, and some of the sheets. Old Mrs. Shimerda knit yards and yards of lace for her underclothes. Tony told me just how she meant to have everything in her house. She’d even bought silver spoons and forks, and kept them in her trunk. She was always co... | My Antonia |
“Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n’t like that, but I said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying she was ‘well and happy.’ After ... | Widow Steavens | been a refuge to her.<|quote|>“Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n’t like that, but I said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying sh... | you. This house had always been a refuge to her.<|quote|>“Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n’t like that, but I said nothing. The next week Yulka g... | her over. “She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye, dear house!’ and then ran out to the wagon. I expect she meant that for you and your grandmother, as much as for me, so I’m particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her.<|quote|>“Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she g... | She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and her red cheeks was all wet with rain. “‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over. “She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-by... | velvet box, good enough for her station. He gave her three hundred dollars in money; I saw the check. He’d collected her wages all those first years she worked out, and it was but right. I shook him by the hand in this room. ‘You’re behaving like a man, Ambrosch,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’ “’T was a cold, ... | even bought silver spoons and forks, and kept them in her trunk. She was always coaxing brother to go to the post-office. Her young man did write her real often, from the different towns along his run. “The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live... | night with us, Jimmy? I’ll talk to you after supper. I can take more interest when my work is off my mind. You’ve no prejudice against hot biscuit for supper? Some have, these days.” While I was putting my horse away I heard a rooster squawking. I looked at my watch and sighed; it was three o’clock, and I knew that I m... | in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though. “At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then that she’d begun to get faint-hearted, waiting; though she’d never let me see it. “Then ... | My Antonia |
“One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, driving fast out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat with the driver, and another behind. In the back seat there was a woman all bundled up; but for all her veils, he thought ’t was Ánt... | Widow Steavens | man and arranged the match.<|quote|>“One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, driving fast out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat with the driver, and another behind. In the back seat there was a woman all bundled up; but for ... | if I’d picked out the man and arranged the match.<|quote|>“One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, driving fast out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat with the driver, and another behind. In the back seat there was a woman al... | said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying she was ‘well and happy.’ After that we heard nothing. A month went by, and old Mrs. Shimerda began to get fretful. Ambrosch was as sulky with me as if I’d picked out the man and arranged the match.<|quote|>“One night brother William came in and said that on h... | “Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n’t like that, but I said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying she was ‘well and happy.’ After ... | She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and her red cheeks was all wet with rain. “‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over. “She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-by... | last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then that she’d begun to get faint-hearted, waiting; though she’d never let me see it. “Then there was a great time of packing. It was in March, if I remember rightly, and a terrible muddy, r... | summer moon was shining outside, the windmill was pumping lazily in the light breeze. My hostess put the lamp on a stand in the corner, and turned it low because of the heat. She sat down in her favorite rocking-chair and settled a little stool comfortably under her tired feet. “I’m troubled with callouses, Jim; gettin... | shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and her red cheeks was all wet with rain. “‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I sai... | My Antonia |
“The next morning I got brother to drive me over. I can walk still, but my feet ain’t what they used to be, and I try to save myself. The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, though it was the middle of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight that made my heart sink—all those underclothes we’d put s... | Widow Steavens | name ought now to be.<|quote|>“The next morning I got brother to drive me over. I can walk still, but my feet ain’t what they used to be, and I try to save myself. The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, though it was the middle of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight that made my heart sink—all... | or Ántonia Donovan, as her name ought now to be.<|quote|>“The next morning I got brother to drive me over. I can walk still, but my feet ain’t what they used to be, and I try to save myself. The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, though it was the middle of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight ... | out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat with the driver, and another behind. In the back seat there was a woman all bundled up; but for all her veils, he thought ’t was Ántonia Shimerda, or Ántonia Donovan, as her name ought now to be.<|quote|>“The next morning I got brother to drive me over. I can walk ... | old Mrs. Shimerda began to get fretful. Ambrosch was as sulky with me as if I’d picked out the man and arranged the match. “One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, driving fast out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat with the ... | you and your grandmother, as much as for me, so I’m particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her. “Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said.... | let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He went to Black Hawk and bought her a set of plated silver in a purple velvet box, good enough for her station. He gave her three hundred dollars in money; I saw the check. He’d collected her wages all those first years she worked out, and it was but right. I shook him by the ... | of some kind. “Now, it’s about that dear Ántonia you want to know? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ve watched her like she’d been my own daughter. “When she came home to do her sewing that summer before she was to be married, she was over here about every day. They’ve never had a sewing machine at the Shimerda... | for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and her red cheeks was all wet with rain. “‘You’re surely handsome enough for any man,’ I said, looking her over. “She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye, dear house!’ and then ran out to the wagon. I expect she... | My Antonia |
“I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden. | Widow Steavens | and I don’t want to.’<|quote|>“I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden.</|quote|>“‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ | says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to.’<|quote|>“I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden.</|quote|>“‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very | n’t so much as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me, looking at me steady but mournful. When I took her in my arms she drew away. ‘Don’t, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to.’<|quote|>“I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she cou... | bringing a dishpanful of wrung clothes, but she darted back into the house like she was loath to see us. When I went in, Ántonia was standing over the tubs, just finishing up a big washing. Mrs. Shimerda was going about her work, talking and scolding to herself. She did n’t so much as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her han... | all bundled up; but for all her veils, he thought ’t was Ántonia Shimerda, or Ántonia Donovan, as her name ought now to be. “The next morning I got brother to drive me over. I can walk still, but my feet ain’t what they used to be, and I try to save myself. The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, th... | “She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, ‘Good-bye, dear house!’ and then ran out to the wagon. I expect she meant that for you and your grandmother, as much as for me, so I’m particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her. “Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe,... | and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We hemstitched all the tablecloths and pillow-cases, and some of the sheets. Old Mrs. Shimerda knit yards and yards of lace for her underclothes. Tony told me just how she meant to have everything in her house. She’d even bought silver spoons and forks, and kept t... | arranged the match. “One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, driving fast out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat with the driver, and another behind. In the back seat there was a woman all bundled up; but for all her veils, h... | My Antonia |
“‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’ | Antonia | walked up toward the garden.<|quote|>“‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’</|quote|>“‘Oh, my child,’ says I, | with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden.<|quote|>“‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’</|quote|>“‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t | away. ‘Don’t, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to.’ “I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden.<|quote|>“‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me ve... | washing. Mrs. Shimerda was going about her work, talking and scolding to herself. She did n’t so much as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me, looking at me steady but mournful. When I took her in my arms she drew away. ‘Don’t, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t... | can walk still, but my feet ain’t what they used to be, and I try to save myself. The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, though it was the middle of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight that made my heart sink—all those underclothes we’d put so much work on, out there swinging in the wind. Yulk... | particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her. “Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n’t like that, but I said nothing. The next w... | told me just how she meant to have everything in her house. She’d even bought silver spoons and forks, and kept them in her trunk. She was always coaxing brother to go to the post-office. Her young man did write her real often, from the different towns along his run. “The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote... | by the hand in this room. ‘You’re behaving like a man, Ambrosch,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’ “’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She thre... | My Antonia |
“‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’ | Widow Steavens | ‘and I ought to be.’<|quote|>“‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’</|quote|>“She sat down on the | me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’<|quote|>“‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’</|quote|>“She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of | asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden. “‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’<|quote|>“‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Do... | as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me, looking at me steady but mournful. When I took her in my arms she drew away. ‘Don’t, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to.’ “I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free bef... | The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, though it was the middle of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight that made my heart sink—all those underclothes we’d put so much work on, out there swinging in the wind. Yulka came bringing a dishpanful of wrung clothes, but she darted back into the house ... | we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n’t like that, but I said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying she was ‘well and happy.’ After that we heard nothing... | forks, and kept them in her trunk. She was always coaxing brother to go to the post-office. Her young man did write her real often, from the different towns along his run. “The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country gir... | out to the wagon. I expect she meant that for you and your grandmother, as much as for me, so I’m particular to tell you. This house had always been a refuge to her. “Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to ... | My Antonia |
“She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’ | Widow Steavens | be afraid to tell me!’<|quote|>“She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’</|quote|>“‘You mean he’s thrown up | ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’<|quote|>“She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’</|quote|>“‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the | free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden. “‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’ “‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’<|quote|>“She sat down on the draw-side, out of ... | to me, looking at me steady but mournful. When I took her in my arms she drew away. ‘Don’t, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to.’ “I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up t... | of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight that made my heart sink—all those underclothes we’d put so much work on, out there swinging in the wind. Yulka came bringing a dishpanful of wrung clothes, but she darted back into the house like she was loath to see us. When I went in, Ántonia was standing over the tubs, jus... | meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n’t like that, but I said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying she was ‘well and happy.’ After that we heard nothing. A month went by, and old Mrs. Shimerda began to get fretful. Ambr... | the post-office. Her young man did write her real often, from the different towns along his run. “The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a c... | him by the hand in this room. ‘You’re behaving like a man, Ambrosch,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’ “’T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She ... | My Antonia |
“‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I. | Widow Steavens | ever meant to marry me.’<|quote|>“‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I.</|quote|>“‘He did n’t have any | ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’<|quote|>“‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I.</|quote|>“‘He did n’t have any job. He’d been fired; blacklisted | natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’ “‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’ “She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’<|quote|>“‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ sa... | don’t want to.’ “I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden. “‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’ “‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘w... | wind. Yulka came bringing a dishpanful of wrung clothes, but she darted back into the house like she was loath to see us. When I went in, Ántonia was standing over the tubs, just finishing up a big washing. Mrs. Shimerda was going about her work, talking and scolding to herself. She did n’t so much as raise her eyes. T... | I said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying she was ‘well and happy.’ After that we heard nothing. A month went by, and old Mrs. Shimerda began to get fretful. Ambrosch was as sulky with me as if I’d picked out the man and arranged the match. “One night brother William came in and said that on his way... | run had been changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though. “At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by... | get fretful. Ambrosch was as sulky with me as if I’d picked out the man and arranged the match. “One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, driving fast out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat with the driver, and another behind.... | My Antonia |
“‘He did n’t have any job. He’d been fired; blacklisted for knocking down fares. I did n’t know. I thought he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there. He’d just come out of the hospital. He lived with me till my money gave out, and afterwards I found he had n’t really been hunting work at all. Then he ... | Antonia | quit the country?’ says I.<|quote|>“‘He did n’t have any job. He’d been fired; blacklisted for knocking down fares. I did n’t know. I thought he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there. He’d just come out of the hospital. He lived with me till my money gave out, and afterwards I found he had n’t really... | thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I.<|quote|>“‘He did n’t have any job. He’d been fired; blacklisted for knocking down fares. I did n’t know. I thought he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there. He’d just come out of the hospital. He lived with me till my money gave out, and afterwards I f... | to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’ “She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’ “‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I.<|quote|>“‘He did n’t have any job. He’d been fired; blacklisted for knocking do... | with me. I knew she could n’t talk free before her mother. She went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden. “‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’ “‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’ “She sat dow... | into the house like she was loath to see us. When I went in, Ántonia was standing over the tubs, just finishing up a big washing. Mrs. Shimerda was going about her work, talking and scolding to herself. She did n’t so much as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me, looking at me steady b... | was ‘well and happy.’ After that we heard nothing. A month went by, and old Mrs. Shimerda began to get fretful. Ambrosch was as sulky with me as if I’d picked out the man and arranged the match. “One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, drivi... | ‘I’m a country girl,’ she said, ‘and I doubt if I’ll be able to manage so well for him in a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.’ She soon cheered up, though. “At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then t... | morning I got brother to drive me over. I can walk still, but my feet ain’t what they used to be, and I try to save myself. The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, though it was the middle of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight that made my heart sink—all those underclothes we’d put so much wor... | My Antonia |
“I asked her, of course, why she did n’t insist on a civil marriage at once—that would have given her some hold on him. She leaned her head on her hands, poor child, and said, ‘I just don’t know, Mrs. Steavens. I guess my patience was wore out, waiting so long. I thought if he saw how well I could do for him, he’d want... | Widow Steavens | had got ahead that way.’<|quote|>“I asked her, of course, why she did n’t insist on a civil marriage at once—that would have given her some hold on him. She leaned her head on her hands, poor child, and said, ‘I just don’t know, Mrs. Steavens. I guess my patience was wore out, waiting so long. I thought if he saw how w... | always talking about fellows who had got ahead that way.’<|quote|>“I asked her, of course, why she did n’t insist on a civil marriage at once—that would have given her some hold on him. She leaned her head on her hands, poor child, and said, ‘I just don’t know, Mrs. Steavens. I guess my patience was wore out, waiting s... | up. He said he was afraid Larry’d gone bad and would n’t come back any more. I guess he’s gone to Old Mexico. The conductors get rich down there, collecting half-fares off the natives and robbing the company. He was always talking about fellows who had got ahead that way.’<|quote|>“I asked her, of course, why she did n... | the hospital. He lived with me till my money gave out, and afterwards I found he had n’t really been hunting work at all. Then he just did n’t come back. One nice fellow at the station told me, when I kept going to look for him, to give it up. He said he was afraid Larry’d gone bad and would n’t come back any more. I g... | ‘and I ought to be.’ “‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’ “She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’ “‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I. “‘He did n’t hav... | I try to save myself. The lines outside the Shimerdas’ house was full of washing, though it was the middle of the week. As we got nearer I saw a sight that made my heart sink—all those underclothes we’d put so much work on, out there swinging in the wind. Yulka came bringing a dishpanful of wrung clothes, but she darte... | velvet box, good enough for her station. He gave her three hundred dollars in money; I saw the check. He’d collected her wages all those first years she worked out, and it was but right. I shook him by the hand in this room. ‘You’re behaving like a man, Ambrosch,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad to see it, son.’ “’T was a cold, ... | Shimerda was going about her work, talking and scolding to herself. She did n’t so much as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me, looking at me steady but mournful. When I took her in my arms she drew away. ‘Don’t, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to.’ “I ... | My Antonia |
“Jimmy, I sat right down on that bank beside her and made lament. I cried like a young thing. I could n’t help it. I was just about heart-broke. It was one of them lovely warm May days, and the wind was blowing and the colts jumping around in the pastures; but I felt bowed with despair. My Ántonia, that had so much goo... | Widow Steavens | want to stay with me.’<|quote|>“Jimmy, I sat right down on that bank beside her and made lament. I cried like a young thing. I could n’t help it. I was just about heart-broke. It was one of them lovely warm May days, and the wind was blowing and the colts jumping around in the pastures; but I felt bowed with despair. M... | could do for him, he’d want to stay with me.’<|quote|>“Jimmy, I sat right down on that bank beside her and made lament. I cried like a young thing. I could n’t help it. I was just about heart-broke. It was one of them lovely warm May days, and the wind was blowing and the colts jumping around in the pastures; but I fel... | her some hold on him. She leaned her head on her hands, poor child, and said, ‘I just don’t know, Mrs. Steavens. I guess my patience was wore out, waiting so long. I thought if he saw how well I could do for him, he’d want to stay with me.’<|quote|>“Jimmy, I sat right down on that bank beside her and made lament. I cri... | gone to Old Mexico. The conductors get rich down there, collecting half-fares off the natives and robbing the company. He was always talking about fellows who had got ahead that way.’ “I asked her, of course, why she did n’t insist on a civil marriage at once—that would have given her some hold on him. She leaned her h... | been fired; blacklisted for knocking down fares. I did n’t know. I thought he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there. He’d just come out of the hospital. He lived with me till my money gave out, and afterwards I found he had n’t really been hunting work at all. Then he just did n’t come back. One nice... | to see us. When I went in, Ántonia was standing over the tubs, just finishing up a big washing. Mrs. Shimerda was going about her work, talking and scolding to herself. She did n’t so much as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me, looking at me steady but mournful. When I took her in my... | her three trunks into Black Hawk to take the night train for Denver—the boxes had been shipped before. He stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I’d done for her. She was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and he... | house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’ “‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I. “‘He did n’t have any job. He’d been fired; blacklisted for knocking down fares. I did n’t know. I thought he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there. ... | My Antonia |
“The next time I saw Ántonia, she was out in the fields ploughing corn. All that spring and summer she did the work of a man on the farm; it seemed to be an understood thing. Ambrosch did n’t get any other hand to help him. Poor Marek had got violent and been sent away to an institution a good while back. We never even... | Widow Steavens | proper conveniences to wash them.<|quote|>“The next time I saw Ántonia, she was out in the fields ploughing corn. All that spring and summer she did the work of a man on the farm; it seemed to be an understood thing. Ambrosch did n’t get any other hand to help him. Poor Marek had got violent and been sent away to an in... | where she did n’t have proper conveniences to wash them.<|quote|>“The next time I saw Ántonia, she was out in the fields ploughing corn. All that spring and summer she did the work of a man on the farm; it seemed to be an understood thing. Ambrosch did n’t get any other hand to help him. Poor Marek had got violent and ... | at her calm. As we went back to the house, she stopped to feel of her clothes to see if they was drying well, and seemed to take pride in their whiteness—she said she’d been living in a brick block, where she did n’t have proper conveniences to wash them.<|quote|>“The next time I saw Ántonia, she was out in the fields ... | much for her mother. I give credit where credit is due, but you know well enough, Jim Burden, there is a great difference in the principles of those two girls. And here it was the good one that had come to grief! I was poor comfort to her. I marveled at her calm. As we went back to the house, she stopped to feel of her... | on that bank beside her and made lament. I cried like a young thing. I could n’t help it. I was just about heart-broke. It was one of them lovely warm May days, and the wind was blowing and the colts jumping around in the pastures; but I felt bowed with despair. My Ántonia, that had so much good in her, had come home d... | down fares. I did n’t know. I thought he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there. He’d just come out of the hospital. He lived with me till my money gave out, and afterwards I found he had n’t really been hunting work at all. Then he just did n’t come back. One nice fellow at the station told me, when ... | by, and old Mrs. Shimerda began to get fretful. Ambrosch was as sulky with me as if I’d picked out the man and arranged the match. “One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the fields he had passed a livery team from town, driving fast out the west road. There was a trunk on the front seat w... | She did n’t so much as raise her eyes. Tony wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me, looking at me steady but mournful. When I took her in my arms she drew away. ‘Don’t, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says, ‘you’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to.’ “I whispered and asked her to come out of doors with me. I knew she cou... | My Antonia |
“Ántonia 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. Sometimes she used to... | Widow Steavens | And after that I did.<|quote|>“Ántonia 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 d... | head, you better stay home.’ And after that I did.<|quote|>“Ántonia 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... | she knew. Ambrosch had got over his good spell long ago, and was always surly. Once I told him he ought not to let Ántonia 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.<|quote|>“Ántonia worked on through harvest and thrashing, though she was too ... | 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 l... | 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 ... | for her mother. I give credit where credit is due, but you know well enough, Jim Burden, there is a great difference in the principles of those two girls. And here it was the good one that had come to grief! I was poor comfort to her. I marveled at her calm. As we went back to the house, she stopped to feel of her clot... | went out with me, bareheaded, and we walked up toward the garden. “‘I’m not married, Mrs. Steavens,’ she says to me very quiet and natural-like, ‘and I ought to be.’ “‘Oh, my child,’ says I, ‘what’s happened to you? Don’t be afraid to tell me!’ “She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away f... | that had come to grief! I was poor comfort to her. I marveled at her calm. As we went back to the house, she stopped to feel of her clothes to see if they was drying well, and seemed to take pride in their whiteness—she said she’d been living in a brick block, where she did n’t have proper conveniences to wash them. “T... | My Antonia |
“It was a fine open fall, and she liked to be alone. While the steers grazed, she used to sit on them grassy banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far. | Widow Steavens | have brought them so far.<|quote|>“It was a fine open fall, and she liked to be alone. While the steers grazed, she used to sit on them grassy banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far.</|quote|>“‘It does seem like I | short, or she would n’t have brought them so far.<|quote|>“It was a fine open fall, and she liked to be alone. While the steers grazed, she used to sit on them grassy banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far.</|quote|>“‘It does seem like I ... | Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would run to meet her and walk north a piece with her. She had thirty cattle in her bunch; it had been dry, and the pasture was short, or she would n’t have brought them so far.<|quote|>“It was a fine open fall, and she liked to be alone. While the steer... | 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. Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would... | 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... | out in the fields ploughing corn. All that spring and summer she did the work of a man on the farm; it seemed to be an understood thing. Ambrosch did n’t get any other hand to help him. Poor Marek had got violent and been sent away to an institution a good while back. We never even saw any of Tony’s pretty dresses. She... | he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there. He’d just come out of the hospital. He lived with me till my money gave out, and afterwards I found he had n’t really been hunting work at all. Then he just did n’t come back. One nice fellow at the station told me, when I kept going to look for him, to give ... | 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 ... | My Antonia |
“‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I ... | Antonia | had n’t gone too far.<|quote|>“‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my fath... | visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far.<|quote|>“‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the ... | them so far. “It was a fine open fall, and she liked to be alone. While the steers grazed, she used to sit on them grassy banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far.<|quote|>“‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,... | big dog town. Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would run to meet her and walk north a piece with her. She had thirty cattle in her bunch; it had been dry, and the pasture was short, or she would n’t have brought them so far. “It was a fine open fall, and she liked to be alone. While the... | got over his good spell long ago, and was always surly. Once I told him he ought not to let Ántonia 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. “Ántonia worked on through harvest and thrashing, though she was too modest to go out thrashing for ... | to an institution a good while back. We never even saw any of Tony’s pretty dresses. She did n’t take them out of her trunks. 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 crushe... | come back. One nice fellow at the station told me, when I kept going to look for him, to give it up. He said he was afraid Larry’d gone bad and would n’t come back any more. I guess he’s gone to Old Mexico. The conductors get rich down there, collecting half-fares off the natives and robbing the company. He was always ... | 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 ... | My Antonia |
“After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat with a wide brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see that her steps were getting heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the afternoon I saw Ántonia driving her cattle homeward across the hill... | Widow Steavens | every day of this fall.’<|quote|>“After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat with a wide brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see that her steps were getting heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the afternoon I saw Ántonia driving he... | long, so I’m just enjoying every day of this fall.’<|quote|>“After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat with a wide brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see that her steps were getting heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the afterno... | a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to live very long, so I’m just enjoying every day of this fall.’<|quote|>“After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots,... | I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far. “‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick ... | to herd Ambrosch’s cattle in the open ground north of here, up toward the big dog town. Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would run to meet her and walk north a piece with her. She had thirty cattle in her bunch; it had been dry, and the pasture was short, or she would n’t have brought t... | 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 ... | once—that would have given her some hold on him. She leaned her head on her hands, poor child, and said, ‘I just don’t know, Mrs. Steavens. I guess my patience was wore out, waiting so long. I thought if he saw how well I could do for him, he’d want to stay with me.’ “Jimmy, I sat right down on that bank beside her and... | in the fields ploughing corn. All that spring and summer she did the work of a man on the farm; it seemed to be an understood thing. Ambrosch did n’t get any other hand to help him. Poor Marek had got violent and been sent away to an institution a good while back. We never even saw any of Tony’s pretty dresses. She did... | My Antonia |
“That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child. | Widow Steavens | get up and drive them.<|quote|>“That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child.</|quote|>“I was lifting supper... | been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them.<|quote|>“That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child.<... | bent to face it, looking more lonesome-like to me than usual. ‘Deary me,’ I says to myself, ‘the girl’s stayed out too late. It’ll be dark before she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them.<|quote|>“That very night, it happened. She got her cat... | brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see that her steps were getting heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the afternoon I saw Ántonia driving her cattle homeward across the hill. The snow was flying round her and she bent to face it, looking more lonesome-like to me than usua... | to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to l... | ago, and was always surly. Once I told him he ought not to let Ántonia 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. “Ántonia worked on through harvest and thrashing, though she was too modest to go out thrashing for the neighbors, like when she ... | had come home disgraced. And that Lena Lingard, that was always a bad one, say what you will, had turned out so well, and was coming home here every summer in her silks and her satins, and doing so much for her mother. I give credit where credit is due, but you know well enough, Jim Burden, there is a great difference ... | when she begun to herd Ambrosch’s cattle in the open ground north of here, up toward the big dog town. Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would run to meet her and walk north a piece with her. She had thirty cattle in her bunch; it had been dry, and the pasture was short, or she would n’t... | My Antonia |
“I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:— | Widow Steavens | bed and bore her child.<|quote|>“I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:—</|quote|>“‘Baby come, baby come!’ she | she lay down on the bed and bore her child.<|quote|>“I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:—</|quote|>“‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’ | drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child.<|quote|>“I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shime... | and she bent to face it, looking more lonesome-like to me than usual. ‘Deary me,’ I says to myself, ‘the girl’s stayed out too late. It’ll be dark before she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cat... | can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to live very long, so I’m just enjoying every day of this fall.’ “After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat with a wide brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see ... | 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. Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would run to... | is due, but you know well enough, Jim Burden, there is a great difference in the principles of those two girls. And here it was the good one that had come to grief! I was poor comfort to her. I marveled at her calm. As we went back to the house, she stopped to feel of her clothes to see if they was drying well, and see... | or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to live very long,... | My Antonia |
“‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’ | Mrs. Shimerda | out of breath and screeching:—<|quote|>“‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’</|quote|>“Brother William is surely a | running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:—<|quote|>“‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’</|quote|>“Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just | into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child. “I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:—<|quote|>“‘Baby come, baby come!’ she say... | ‘the girl’s stayed out too late. It’ll be dark before she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, an... | to live very long, so I’m just enjoying every day of this fall.’ “After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat with a wide brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see that her steps were getting heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the af... | 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. Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would run to meet her and walk north a piece with her. She had thirty cattle in her bunch; it had been dry... | two girls. And here it was the good one that had come to grief! I was poor comfort to her. I marveled at her calm. As we went back to the house, she stopped to feel of her clothes to see if they was drying well, and seemed to take pride in their whiteness—she said she’d been living in a brick block, where she did n’t h... | 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 Ántonia 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. “Ántonia worked on through harvest and thrashing, though sh... | My Antonia |
“Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit down to a hot supper after a long day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with... | Widow Steavens | says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’<|quote|>“Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit down to a hot supper after a long day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began ... | “‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’<|quote|>“Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit down to a hot supper after a long day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible... | shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child. “I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:— “‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’<|quote|>“Brother William is sur... | she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, wi... | of this fall.’ “After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat with a wide brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see that her steps were getting heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the afternoon I saw Ántonia driving her cattle homeward ... | when she begun to herd Ambrosch’s cattle in the open ground north of here, up toward the big dog town. Sometimes she used to bring them over the west hill, there, and I would run to meet her and walk north a piece with her. She had thirty cattle in her bunch; it had been dry, and the pasture was short, or she would n’t... | had come to grief! I was poor comfort to her. I marveled at her calm. As we went back to the house, she stopped to feel of her clothes to see if they was drying well, and seemed to take pride in their whiteness—she said she’d been living in a brick block, where she did n’t have proper conveniences to wash them. “The ne... | said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to live very long, so I’m just enjoying every day ... | My Antonia |
“‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. | Widow Steavens | and I said out loud:—<|quote|>“‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant.</|quote|>[Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle | overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:—<|quote|>“‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant.</|quote|>[Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said | humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:—<|quote|>“‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby.... | William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit down to a hot supper after a long day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes... | gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, withou... | hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far. “‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up... | get any other hand to help him. Poor Marek had got violent and been sent away to an institution a good while back. We never even saw any of Tony’s pretty dresses. She did n’t take them out of her trunks. She was quiet and steady. Folks respected her industry and tried to treat her as if nothing had happened. They talke... | I told him he ought not to let Ántonia 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. “Ántonia 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 se... | My Antonia |
[Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] | No speaker | little skin.’ I was indignant.<|quote|>[Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home]</|quote|>“‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from | that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant.<|quote|>[Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home]</|quote|>“‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look | and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant.<|quote|>[Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home]</|q... | day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. ... | drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child. “I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came... | I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not go... | good while back. We never even saw any of Tony’s pretty dresses. She did n’t take them out of her trunks. 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 nob... | the hill. The snow was flying round her and she bent to face it, looking more lonesome-like to me than usual. ‘Deary me,’ I says to myself, ‘the girl’s stayed out too late. It’ll be dark before she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That ... | My Antonia |
“‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke. | Widow Steavens | Ántonia driving her cattle home]<|quote|>“‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke.</|quote|>“After I’d dressed the baby, | skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home]<|quote|>“‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke.</|quote|>“After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to | The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home]<|quote|>“‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said... | word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doi... | happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child. “I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs... | knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to live very long, so... | saw any of Tony’s pretty dresses. She did n’t take them out of her trunks. 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 he... | afternoon I saw Ántonia driving her cattle homeward across the hill. The snow was flying round her and she bent to face it, looking more lonesome-like to me than usual. ‘Deary me,’ I says to myself, ‘the girl’s stayed out too late. It’ll be dark before she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d ... | My Antonia |
“After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it. | Widow Steavens | the first word she spoke.<|quote|>“After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it.</|quote|>“‘You’d better put it out | some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke.<|quote|>“After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it.</|quote|>“‘You’d better put it out in the rain barrel,’ he | that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke.<|quote|>“After I’d dressed th... | in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was... | to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child. “I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:— “‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’ “Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit do... | ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to live very long, so I’m just enjoying every day of this fall.’ “After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat w... | 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... | around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden and I was playing all over this country. Up here I can pick out the very places where my father used to stand. Sometimes I feel like I’m not going to live very long, so I’m just enjoying every day of this fall.’ “After the winter begun she wor... | My Antonia |
“‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this land, don’t forget that. I stand here a witness that this baby has come into the world sound and strong, and I intend to keep an eye on what befalls it.’ I pride myself I cowed him. | Widow Steavens | the rain barrel,’ he says.<|quote|>“‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this land, don’t forget that. I stand here a witness that this baby has come into the world sound and strong, and I intend to keep an eye on what befalls it.’ I pride myself I cowed him.</|quote|>“Well, I expect you’re not | better put it out in the rain barrel,’ he says.<|quote|>“‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this land, don’t forget that. I stand here a witness that this baby has come into the world sound and strong, and I intend to keep an eye on what befalls it.’ I pride myself I cowed him.</|quote|>“Well, I expec... | trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke. “After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it. “‘You’d better put it out in the rain barrel,’ he says.<|quote|>“‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this ... | she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap... | come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’ “Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit down to a hot supper after a long day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and beg... | long, so I’m just enjoying every day of this fall.’ “After the winter begun she wore a man’s long overcoat and boots, and a man’s felt hat with a wide brim. I used to watch her coming and going, and I could see that her steps were getting heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the afternoon I saw... | 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 ... | too late. It’ll be dark before she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There,... | My Antonia |
“Well, I expect you’re not much interested in babies, but Ántonia’s got on fine. She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry ... | Widow Steavens | pride myself I cowed him.<|quote|>“Well, I expect you’re not much interested in babies, but Ántonia’s got on fine. She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-bo... | on what befalls it.’ I pride myself I cowed him.<|quote|>“Well, I expect you’re not much interested in babies, but Ántonia’s got on fine. She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. ... | he says. “‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this land, don’t forget that. I stand here a witness that this baby has come into the world sound and strong, and I intend to keep an eye on what befalls it.’ I pride myself I cowed him.<|quote|>“Well, I expect you’re not much interested in babies, but Ánto... | of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke. “After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it. “‘You’d better put it out in the rain barrel,’ he says. “‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this la... | He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that st... | heavier. One day in December, the snow began to fall. Late in the afternoon I saw Ántonia driving her cattle homeward across the hill. The snow was flying round her and she bent to face it, looking more lonesome-like to me than usual. ‘Deary me,’ I says to myself, ‘the girl’s stayed out too late. It’ll be dark before s... | 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 wou... | a long day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team. He got us over there as quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the... | My Antonia |
I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, and the windmill making its old dark shadow against the blue sky. IV ... | No speaker | as there’s much chance now.”<|quote|>I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, and the windmill making its old dark... | family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.”<|quote|>I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, and the win... | had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.”<|quote|>I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was ... | has come into the world sound and strong, and I intend to keep an eye on what befalls it.’ I pride myself I cowed him. “Well, I expect you’re not much interested in babies, but Ántonia’s got on fine. She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and... | little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke. “After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behi... | miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the bed and bore her child. “I was lifting supper whe... | had got over his good spell long ago, and was always surly. Once I told him he ought not to let Ántonia 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. “Ántonia worked on through harvest and thrashing, though she was too modest to go out thrashing ... | took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens... | My Antonia |
“I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.” | Antonia | Her warm hand clasped mine.<|quote|>“I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.”</|quote|>She was thinner than I | silence, if not in tears. Her warm hand clasped mine.<|quote|>“I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.”</|quote|>She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and | I went down across the fields, and Tony saw me from a long way off. She stood still by her shocks, leaning on her pitchfork, watching me as I came. We met like the people in the old song, in silence, if not in tears. Her warm hand clasped mine.<|quote|>“I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s las... | moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, and the windmill making its old dark shadow against the blue sky. IV THE next afternoon I walked over to the Shimerdas’. Yulka showed me the baby and told me that Ántonia was shocking wheat on the southwest quarter. I went down across the fields, and Tony saw... | She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that ni... | right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’... | dry, and the pasture was short, or she would n’t have brought them so far. “It was a fine open fall, and she liked to be alone. While the steers grazed, she used to sit on them grassy banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far. “‘It does seem... | put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap.’ That was the first word she spoke. “After I’d dressed the ba... | My Antonia |
She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, | No speaker | looking for you all day.”<|quote|>She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said,</|quote|>“worked down,” but there was | Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.”<|quote|>She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said,</|quote|>“worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength | leaning on her pitchfork, watching me as I came. We met like the people in the old song, in silence, if not in tears. Her warm hand clasped mine. “I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.”<|quote|>She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, ... | blue sky. IV THE next afternoon I walked over to the Shimerdas’. Yulka showed me the baby and told me that Ántonia was shocking wheat on the southwest quarter. I went down across the fields, and Tony saw me from a long way off. She stood still by her shocks, leaning on her pitchfork, watching me as I came. We met like ... | of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the win... | me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said fro... | and she liked to be alone. While the steers grazed, she used to sit on them grassy banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far. “‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I ... | of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said ... | My Antonia |
“worked down,” | Widow Steavens | looked, as Mrs. Steavens said,<|quote|>“worked down,”</|quote|>but there was a new | had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said,<|quote|>“worked down,”</|quote|>but there was a new kind of strength in the | the old song, in silence, if not in tears. Her warm hand clasped mine. “I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said,<|quote|>“worked down,”</|quote|>but there was a new kind of ... | the baby and told me that Ántonia was shocking wheat on the southwest quarter. I went down across the fields, and Tony saw me from a long way off. She stood still by her shocks, leaning on her pitchfork, watching me as I came. We met like the people in the old song, in silence, if not in tears. Her warm hand clasped mi... | better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watch... | overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll se... | them grassy banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far. “‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when ... | fine. She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept t... | My Antonia |
but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctive... | No speaker | Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,”<|quote|>but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia st... | seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,”<|quote|>but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-fo... | song, in silence, if not in tears. Her warm hand clasped mine. “I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,”<|quote|>but there was a new kind of strength in the g... | and told me that Ántonia was shocking wheat on the southwest quarter. I went down across the fields, and Tony saw me from a long way off. She stood still by her shocks, leaning on her pitchfork, watching me as I came. We met like the people in the old song, in silence, if not in tears. Her warm hand clasped mine. “I th... | Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight s... | she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her cattle home] “‘Mrs. Steavens,’ Ántonia said from the bed, ‘if you’ll look in the top tray of my trunk, you’ll see some fine soap... | banks along the draws and sun herself for hours. Sometimes I slipped up to visit with her, when she had n’t gone too far. “‘It does seem like I ought to make lace, or knit like Lena used to,’ she said one day, ‘but if I start to work, I look around and forget to go on. It seems such a little while ago when Jim Burden a... | quick as it was humanly possible. I went right in, and began to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near th... | My Antonia |
“Of course it means you are going away from us for good,” | Antonia | living, and my dearest hopes.<|quote|>“Of course it means you are going away from us for good,”</|quote|>she said with a sigh. | friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes.<|quote|>“Of course it means you are going away from us for good,”</|quote|>she said with a sigh. “But that don’t mean I’ll | and to go into the law office of one of my mother’s relatives in New York City; about Gaston Cleric’s death from pneumonia last winter, and the difference it had made in my life. She wanted to know about my friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes.<|quote|>“Of course it means you are going away from us for go... | rest of the world. The tall red grass had never been cut there. It had died down in winter and come up again in the spring until it was as thick and shrubby as some tropical garden-grass. I found myself telling her everything: why I had decided to study law and to go into the law office of one of my mother’s relatives ... | said, “worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the gr... | ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and ... | ‘the girl’s stayed out too late. It’ll be dark before she gets them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, an... | natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over t... | My Antonia |
she said with a sigh. | No speaker | away from us for good,”<|quote|>she said with a sigh.</|quote|>“But that don’t mean I’ll | it means you are going away from us for good,”<|quote|>she said with a sigh.</|quote|>“But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my | relatives in New York City; about Gaston Cleric’s death from pneumonia last winter, and the difference it had made in my life. She wanted to know about my friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes. “Of course it means you are going away from us for good,”<|quote|>she said with a sigh.</|quote|>“But that don’t ... | there. It had died down in winter and come up again in the spring until it was as thick and shrubby as some tropical garden-grass. I found myself telling her everything: why I had decided to study law and to go into the law office of one of my mother’s relatives in New York City; about Gaston Cleric’s death from pneumo... | the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctively we walked toward that unploughed patch... | marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, a... | them cattle put into the corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a g... | that. I stand here a witness that this baby has come into the world sound and strong, and I intend to keep an eye on what befalls it.’ I pride myself I cowed him. “Well, I expect you’re not much interested in babies, but Ántonia’s got on fine. She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, ... | My Antonia |
“But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa here; he’s been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to him and consult him all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and the more I understand him.” | Antonia | she said with a sigh.<|quote|>“But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa here; he’s been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to him and consult him all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and the more I understand him.... | away from us for good,” she said with a sigh.<|quote|>“But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa here; he’s been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to him and consult him all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and th... | about Gaston Cleric’s death from pneumonia last winter, and the difference it had made in my life. She wanted to know about my friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes. “Of course it means you are going away from us for good,” she said with a sigh.<|quote|>“But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa h... | in winter and come up again in the spring until it was as thick and shrubby as some tropical garden-grass. I found myself telling her everything: why I had decided to study law and to go into the law office of one of my mother’s relatives in New York City; about Gaston Cleric’s death from pneumonia last winter, and the... | and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctively we walked toward that unploughed patch at the crossing of the r... | but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, and the windmill making its... | corral.’ I seemed to sense she’d been feeling too miserable to get up and drive them. “That very night, it happened. She got her cattle home, turned them into the corral, and went into the house, into her room behind the kitchen, and shut the door. There, without calling to anybody, without a groan, she lay down on the... | it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it. “‘You’d better put it out in the rain barrel,’ he says. “‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this land, don’t forget that. I stand here a witness that this baby has come into the world sound and strong, and I int... | My Antonia |
She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities. | No speaker | the more I understand him.”<|quote|>She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities.</|quote|>“I’d always be miserable in | better I know him and the more I understand him.”<|quote|>She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities.</|quote|>“I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of | he’s been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to him and consult him all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and the more I understand him.”<|quote|>She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities.</|quote|>“I’d always be... | had made in my life. She wanted to know about my friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes. “Of course it means you are going away from us for good,” she said with a sigh. “But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa here; he’s been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody... | to talk to each other. We sat down outside the sagging wire fence that shut Mr. Shimerda’s plot off from the rest of the world. The tall red grass had never been cut there. It had died down in winter and come up again in the spring until it was as thick and shrubby as some tropical garden-grass. I found myself telling ... | making its old dark shadow against the blue sky. IV THE next afternoon I walked over to the Shimerdas’. Yulka showed me the baby and told me that Ántonia was shocking wheat on the southwest quarter. I went down across the fields, and Tony saw me from a long way off. She stood still by her shocks, leaning on her pitchfo... | her child. “I was lifting supper when old Mrs. Shimerda came running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:— “‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’ “Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit down to a hot supper after a long day in the fields. Without a w... | you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life... | My Antonia |
“I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be where I know every stack and tree, and where all the ground is friendly. I want to live and die here. Father Kelly says everybody’s put into this world for something, and I know what I’ve got to do. I’m going to see that my little girl has a bett... | Antonia | learned to like big cities.<|quote|>“I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be where I know every stack and tree, and where all the ground is friendly. I want to live and die here. Father Kelly says everybody’s put into this world for something, and I know what I’ve got to do. I’m going t... | asked me whether I had learned to like big cities.<|quote|>“I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be where I know every stack and tree, and where all the ground is friendly. I want to live and die here. Father Kelly says everybody’s put into this world for something, and I know what I’ve... | real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to him and consult him all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and the more I understand him.” She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities.<|quote|>“I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be ... | friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes. “Of course it means you are going away from us for good,” she said with a sigh. “But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa here; he’s been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to hi... | wire fence that shut Mr. Shimerda’s plot off from the rest of the world. The tall red grass had never been cut there. It had died down in winter and come up again in the spring until it was as thick and shrubby as some tropical garden-grass. I found myself telling her everything: why I had decided to study law and to g... | next afternoon I walked over to the Shimerdas’. Yulka showed me the baby and told me that Ántonia was shocking wheat on the southwest quarter. I went down across the fields, and Tony saw me from a long way off. She stood still by her shocks, leaning on her pitchfork, watching me as I came. We met like the people in the... | running down the basement stairs, out of breath and screeching:— “‘Baby come, baby come!’ she says. ‘Ambrosch much like devil!’ “Brother William is surely a patient man. He was just ready to sit down to a hot supper after a long day in the fields. Without a word he rose and went down to the barn and hooked up his team.... | you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health a... | My Antonia |
I told her I knew she would. | No speaker | care of that girl, Jim.”<|quote|>I told her I knew she would.</|quote|>“Do you know, Ántonia, since | had. I’m going to take care of that girl, Jim.”<|quote|>I told her I knew she would.</|quote|>“Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think | I want to live and die here. Father Kelly says everybody’s put into this world for something, and I know what I’ve got to do. I’m going to see that my little girl has a better chance than ever I had. I’m going to take care of that girl, Jim.”<|quote|>I told her I knew she would.</|quote|>“Do you know, Ántonia, since I’... | better I know him and the more I understand him.” She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities. “I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be where I know every stack and tree, and where all the ground is friendly. I want to live and die here. Father Kelly says everybody’s put into ... | Cleric’s death from pneumonia last winter, and the difference it had made in my life. She wanted to know about my friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes. “Of course it means you are going away from us for good,” she said with a sigh. “But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa here; he’s been dead a... | Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. St... | to do for Ántonia; but she laid there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [I... | chance now.” I slept that night in the room I used to have when I was a little boy, with the summer wind blowing in at the windows, bringing the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, and the windmill making its old dark shadow against the blue... | My Antonia |
“Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all m... | Jim | her I knew she would.<|quote|>“Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influenc... | that girl, Jim.” I told her I knew she would.<|quote|>“Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part ... | Father Kelly says everybody’s put into this world for something, and I know what I’ve got to do. I’m going to see that my little girl has a better chance than ever I had. I’m going to take care of that girl, Jim.” I told her I knew she would.<|quote|>“Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more ofte... | I understand him.” She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities. “I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be where I know every stack and tree, and where all the ground is friendly. I want to live and die here. Father Kelly says everybody’s put into this world for something, and I... | the difference it had made in my life. She wanted to know about my friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes. “Of course it means you are going away from us for good,” she said with a sigh. “But that don’t mean I’ll lose you. Look at my papa here; he’s been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me t... | Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me... | there with her eyes shut and took no account of me. The old woman got a tubful of warm water to wash the baby. I overlooked what she was doing and I said out loud:— “‘Mrs. Shimerda, don’t you put that strong yellow soap near that baby. You’ll blister its little skin.’ I was indignant. [Illustration: Ántonia driving her... | the smell of the ripe fields. I lay awake and watched the moonlight shining over the barn and the stacks and the pond, and the windmill making its old dark shadow against the blue sky. IV THE next afternoon I walked over to the Shimerdas’. Yulka showed me the baby and told me that Ántonia was shocking wheat on the sout... | My Antonia |
She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them slowly. | No speaker | are a part of me.”<|quote|>She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them slowly.</|quote|>“How can it be like | don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.”<|quote|>She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them slowly.</|quote|>“How can it be like that, when you know so | a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.”<|quote|>She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them s... | going to take care of that girl, Jim.” I told her I knew she would. “Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of ... | all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and the more I understand him.” She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities. “I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be where I know every stack and tree, and where all the ground is friendly. I want to live and die here. Fat... | and instinctively we walked toward that unploughed patch at the crossing of the roads as the fittest place to talk to each other. We sat down outside the sagging wire fence that shut Mr. Shimerda’s plot off from the rest of the world. The tall red grass had never been cut there. It had died down in winter and come up a... | the first word she spoke. “After I’d dressed the baby, I took it out to show it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it. “‘You’d better put it out in the rain barrel,’ he says. “‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this land, don’t forget that. I stand here a witness that... | spring until it was as thick and shrubby as some tropical garden-grass. I found myself telling her everything: why I had decided to study law and to go into the law office of one of my mother’s relatives in New York City; about Gaston Cleric’s death from pneumonia last winter, and the difference it had made in my life.... | My Antonia |
“How can it be like that, when you know so many people, and when I’ve disappointed you so? Ain’t it wonderful, Jim, how much people can mean to each other? I’m so glad we had each other when we were little. I can’t wait till my little girl’s old enough to tell her about all the things we used to do. You’ll always remem... | Antonia | came up in them slowly.<|quote|>“How can it be like that, when you know so many people, and when I’ve disappointed you so? Ain’t it wonderful, Jim, how much people can mean to each other? I’m so glad we had each other when we were little. I can’t wait till my little girl’s old enough to tell her about all the things we... | to me, and the tears came up in them slowly.<|quote|>“How can it be like that, when you know so many people, and when I’ve disappointed you so? Ain’t it wonderful, Jim, how much people can mean to each other? I’m so glad we had each other when we were little. I can’t wait till my little girl’s old enough to tell her ab... | The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.” She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them slowly.<|quote|>“How can it be like that, when you know so many people, and when I... | you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my ta... | understand him.” She asked me whether I had learned to like big cities. “I’d always be miserable in a city. I’d die of lonesomeness. I like to be where I know every stack and tree, and where all the ground is friendly. I want to live and die here. Father Kelly says everybody’s put into this world for something, and I k... | fittest place to talk to each other. We sat down outside the sagging wire fence that shut Mr. Shimerda’s plot off from the rest of the world. The tall red grass had never been cut there. It had died down in winter and come up again in the spring until it was as thick and shrubby as some tropical garden-grass. I found m... | it to Ambrosch. He was muttering behind the stove and would n’t look at it. “‘You’d better put it out in the rain barrel,’ he says. “‘Now, see here, Ambrosch,’ says I, ‘there’s a law in this land, don’t forget that. I stand here a witness that this baby has come into the world sound and strong, and I intend to keep an ... | you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life... | My Antonia |
As we walked homeward across the fields, the sun dropped and lay like a great golden globe in the low west. While it hung there, the moon rose in the east, as big as a cartwheel, pale silver and streaked with rose color, thin as a bubble or a ghost-moon. For five, perhaps ten minutes, the two luminaries confronted each... | No speaker | times, even the happiest people.”<|quote|>As we walked homeward across the fields, the sun dropped and lay like a great golden globe in the low west. While it hung there, the moon rose in the east, as big as a cartwheel, pale silver and streaked with rose color, thin as a bubble or a ghost-moon. For five, perhaps ten m... | guess everybody thinks about old times, even the happiest people.”<|quote|>As we walked homeward across the fields, the sun dropped and lay like a great golden globe in the low west. While it hung there, the moon rose in the east, as big as a cartwheel, pale silver and streaked with rose color, thin as a bubble or a gh... | each other when we were little. I can’t wait till my little girl’s old enough to tell her about all the things we used to do. You’ll always remember me when you think about old times, won’t you? And I guess everybody thinks about old times, even the happiest people.”<|quote|>As we walked homeward across the fields, the... | turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them slowly. “How can it be like that, when you know so many people, and when I’ve disappointed you so? Ain’t it wonderful, Jim, how much people can mean to each other? I’m so glad we had each other when we were little. I can’t wait till my little girl’s... | to take care of that girl, Jim.” I told her I knew she would. “Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is... | relatives in New York City; about Gaston Cleric’s death from pneumonia last winter, and the difference it had made in my life. She wanted to know about my friends and my way of living, and my dearest hopes. “Of course it means you are going away from us for good,” she said with a sigh. “But that don’t mean I’ll lose yo... | got on fine. She loved it from the first as dearly as if she’d had a ring on her finger, and was never ashamed of it. It’s a year and eight months old now, and no baby was ever better cared-for. Ántonia is a natural-born mother. I wish she could marry and raise a family, but I don’t know as there’s much chance now.” I ... | was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctively we walke... | My Antonia |
“I’ll come back,” | Jim | very bottom of my memory.<|quote|>“I’ll come back,”</|quote|>I said earnestly, through the | of women’s faces, at the very bottom of my memory.<|quote|>“I’ll come back,”</|quote|>I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness. “Perhaps you | a long while, over my heart. About us it was growing darker and darker, and I had to look hard to see her face, which I meant always to carry with me; the closest, realest face, under all the shadows of women’s faces, at the very bottom of my memory.<|quote|>“I’ll come back,”</|quote|>I said earnestly, through the soft... | We reached the edge of the field, where our ways parted. I took her hands and held them against my breast, feeling once more how strong and warm and good they were, those brown hands, and remembering how many kind things they had done for me. I held them now a long while, over my heart. About us it was growing darker a... | as a bubble or a ghost-moon. For five, perhaps ten minutes, the two luminaries confronted each other across the level land, resting on opposite edges of the world. In that singular light every little tree and shock of wheat, every sunflower stalk and clump of snow-on-the-mountain, drew itself up high and pointed; the v... | you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.” She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears ... | a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctively we walked to... | got to do. I’m going to see that my little girl has a better chance than ever I had. I’m going to take care of that girl, Jim.” I told her I knew she would. “Do you know, Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart,... | My Antonia |
I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness. | No speaker | my memory. “I’ll come back,”<|quote|>I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness.</|quote|>“Perhaps you will” —I felt | at the very bottom of my memory. “I’ll come back,”<|quote|>I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness.</|quote|>“Perhaps you will” —I felt rather than saw her smile. | over my heart. About us it was growing darker and darker, and I had to look hard to see her face, which I meant always to carry with me; the closest, realest face, under all the shadows of women’s faces, at the very bottom of my memory. “I’ll come back,”<|quote|>I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness.</... | edge of the field, where our ways parted. I took her hands and held them against my breast, feeling once more how strong and warm and good they were, those brown hands, and remembering how many kind things they had done for me. I held them now a long while, over my heart. About us it was growing darker and darker, and ... | or a ghost-moon. For five, perhaps ten minutes, the two luminaries confronted each other across the level land, resting on opposite edges of the world. In that singular light every little tree and shock of wheat, every sunflower stalk and clump of snow-on-the-mountain, drew itself up high and pointed; the very clods an... | sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.” She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in... | of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctively we walked toward that u... | hung there, the moon rose in the east, as big as a cartwheel, pale silver and streaked with rose color, thin as a bubble or a ghost-moon. For five, perhaps ten minutes, the two luminaries confronted each other across the level land, resting on opposite edges of the world. In that singular light every little tree and sh... | My Antonia |
“Perhaps you will” | Antonia | through the soft, intrusive darkness.<|quote|>“Perhaps you will”</|quote|>—I felt rather than saw | come back,” I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness.<|quote|>“Perhaps you will”</|quote|>—I felt rather than saw her smile. “But even if | darker and darker, and I had to look hard to see her face, which I meant always to carry with me; the closest, realest face, under all the shadows of women’s faces, at the very bottom of my memory. “I’ll come back,” I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness.<|quote|>“Perhaps you will”</|quote|>—I felt rath... | I took her hands and held them against my breast, feeling once more how strong and warm and good they were, those brown hands, and remembering how many kind things they had done for me. I held them now a long while, over my heart. About us it was growing darker and darker, and I had to look hard to see her face, which ... | the two luminaries confronted each other across the level land, resting on opposite edges of the world. In that singular light every little tree and shock of wheat, every sunflower stalk and clump of snow-on-the-mountain, drew itself up high and pointed; the very clods and furrows in the fields seemed to stand up sharp... | my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.” She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them slowly. “How can it be like that,... | and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctively we walked toward that unploughed patch at the crossing of the r... | you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You... | My Antonia |
—I felt rather than saw her smile. | No speaker | intrusive darkness. “Perhaps you will”<|quote|>—I felt rather than saw her smile.</|quote|>“But even if you don’t, | said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness. “Perhaps you will”<|quote|>—I felt rather than saw her smile.</|quote|>“But even if you don’t, you’re here, like my father. | and I had to look hard to see her face, which I meant always to carry with me; the closest, realest face, under all the shadows of women’s faces, at the very bottom of my memory. “I’ll come back,” I said earnestly, through the soft, intrusive darkness. “Perhaps you will”<|quote|>—I felt rather than saw her smile.</|quo... | hands and held them against my breast, feeling once more how strong and warm and good they were, those brown hands, and remembering how many kind things they had done for me. I held them now a long while, over my heart. About us it was growing darker and darker, and I had to look hard to see her face, which I meant alw... | confronted each other across the level land, resting on opposite edges of the world. In that singular light every little tree and shock of wheat, every sunflower stalk and clump of snow-on-the-mountain, drew itself up high and pointed; the very clods and furrows in the fields seemed to stand up sharply. I felt the old ... | a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.” She turned her bright, believing eyes to me, and the tears came up in them slowly. “How can it be like that, when you know so many p... | still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still? Why, it flashed across me that though so much had happened in her life and in mine, she was barely twenty-four years old. Ántonia stuck her fork in the ground, and instinctively we walked toward that unploughed patch at the crossing of the roads as the fi... | Ántonia, since I’ve been away, I think of you more often than of any one else in this part of the world. I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hund... | My Antonia |
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