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But they were welcomed warmly enough in the kitchen, with its crisp new plaster, its black and nickel range, its cream separator in a corner. Mrs. Erdstrom begged her to sit in the parlor, where there was a phonograph and an oak and leather davenport, the prairie farmer's proofs of social progress, but she dropped down by the kitchen stove and insisted, "Please don't mind me." When Mrs.
In front of it a sagging woman with tight-drawn hair, and a baby bedraggled, smeary, glorious-eyed. "Those are the kind of folks I practise among, good share of the time. Nels Erdstrom, fine clean young Svenska. He'll have a corking farm in ten years, but now I operated his wife on a kitchen table, with my driver giving the anesthetic. Look at that scared baby!
Erdstrom had followed the doctor out of the room Carol glanced in a friendly way at the grained pine cupboard, the framed Lutheran Konfirmations Attest, the traces of fried eggs and sausages on the dining table against the wall, and a jewel among calendars, presenting not only a lithographic young woman with cherry lips, and a Swedish advertisement of Axel Egge's grocery, but also a thermometer and a match-holder.
"Hee, hee, hee!" "Come here and I'll tell you the story of well, I don't know what it will be about, but it will have a slim heroine and a Prince Charming." He stood stoically while she spun nonsense. His giggling ceased. She was winning him. Then the telephone bell two long rings, one short. Mrs. Erdstrom galloped into the room, shrieked into the transmitter, "Vell?
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