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Over and over there were the same manipulations: slow for down hill, careful of sand at the bottom, letting her out on a smooth stretch, waving to a lonely farmwife in her small, baked dooryard, slow to pass a hay-wagon, gas for up the next hill, and repeat the round all over again.
Kennicott bending over a body which was humped under a sheet the surgeon, his bare arms daubed with blood, his hands, in pale-yellow rubber gloves, loosening the tourniquet, his face without emotion save when he threw up his head and clucked at the farmwife, "Hold that light steady just a second more noch blos esn wenig."
Rickards and Rosebud had relieved the farmwife of all her duties that she might be free to lavish her utmost care upon her staunch old friend and husband. The future prospects of the farm were less involved than the affairs of most of the farmers. The setback of the rebellion was tremendous, but years of thrift had left White River Farm independent of a single year's crops.
"Seth's real honest, an' an', far be it for me to say it, he's consequent a foolhead. What's dollars when folks love? Pshaw! me an' Rube didn't think o' no dollars." "Guess we hadn't no dollars to think of, Ma," murmured Rube in a ponderous aside. "Wal? An' if we had?" Ma smiled defiantly at her "old man." "Wal, mebbe we'd 'a' tho't of 'em." The farmwife turned away in pretended disgust.
It was salvation to push the heavy tables, to scrub them, to be exact in placing the sheet. Her head cleared; she was able to look calmly in at her husband and the farmwife while they undressed the wailing man, got him into a clean nightgown, and washed his arm. Kennicott came to lay out his instruments.
The crisp-faced, gray-headed little lawyer smiled in a sharp, angular manner in Ma Sampson's direction. The farmwife, arrayed in her best mission-going clothes, was ensconced in her husband's large parlor chair, which was sizes too big for her, and smiled back at him through her glasses. Mr.
It's that that makes him think he's got the right to order me about," she added, as a hasty afterthought. Further talk was interrupted at that moment by a knock at the back door. Rosebud passed out into the wash-house to answer the summons, and Ma Sampson heard her greet the Indian woman, Wanaha. The old farmwife muttered to herself as she turned back to her work.
Guess it ain't no use in old folks figgerin' out fer young folks. The only figgerin' that counts is what they do fer themselves." "I believe you're right," responded Mrs. Rickards, wondering where the farmwife had acquired her fund of worldly wisdom. Ma's gentle shrewdness overshadowed any knowledge she had acquired living the ordinary social life that had been hers in England.
Everything was too neat and trim, and I remember that one day, when I was on my search for a "bit," I found a dilapidated barn which tempted me to sit down before it, when the farmwife, guessing my intentions, ran out to beg me "not to take the barn yet; they were going to do it up the next week as good as new, and wouldn't I wait?"
Carol fluttered at the back of the room, childishly excited when she was sent to fetch towels and a basin of water. Kennicott lifted the farmer into a chair and chuckled, "There we are, Halvor! We'll have you out fixing fences and drinking aquavit in a month." The farmwife sat on the couch, expressionless, bulky in a man's dogskin coat and unplumbed layers of jackets.
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