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Leo, in a low voice, tossed off some scornful remark in Bohemian. I turned to him. “You think I don’t know what kolaches are, eh? You’re mistaken, young man. I’ve eaten your mother’s kolaches long before that Easter day when you were born.” “Always too fresh, Leo,” Ambrosch remarked with a shrug. Leo dived behind his mother and grinned out at me.
Steavens," Antonia 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 behind the stove and wouldn't look at it. "You'd better put it out in the rain-barrel," he says.
One morning he told us that the small grain was coming on so well, he thought he would begin to cut his wheat on the first of July. He would need more men, and if it were agreeable to every one he would engage Ambrosch for the reaping and thrashing, as the Shimerdas had no small grain of their own. “I think, Emmaline,” he concluded, “I will ask Ántonia to come over and help you in the kitchen.
The trouble with me was, Jim, I never could believe harm of anybody I loved. While we were talking, Antonia assured me that she could keep me for the night. 'We've plenty of room. Two of the boys sleep in the haymow till cold weather comes, but there's no need for it. Leo always begs to sleep there, and Ambrosch goes along to look after him.
It took but a few moments to release the gases pent up in the poor beast, and the two women heard the rush of wind and saw the roan visibly diminish in girth. “If I lose that horse, Mr. Burden,” Ántonia exclaimed, “I never stay here till Ambrosch come home! I go drown myself in the pond before morning.” When Ambrosch came back from Mr.
She wore her black hood and was bundled up in shawls. Grandfather tucked his bushy white beard inside his overcoat. They looked very Biblical as they set off, I thought. Jake and Ambrosch followed them, riding the other black and my pony, carrying bundles of clothes that we had got together for Mrs. Shimerda. I watched them go past the pond and over the hill by the drifted cornfield.
As we went toward the house, we met Ambrosch and Anton, starting off with their milking-pails to hunt the cows. I joined them, and Leo accompanied us at some distance, running ahead and starting up at us out of clumps of ironweed, calling, “I’m a jack rabbit,” or, “I’m a big bull-snake.” I walked between the two older boys—straight, well-made fellows, with good heads and clear eyes.
This was not the sort of thing country boys did when they played at fisticuffs, and Jake was furious. He landed Ambrosch a blow on the head it sounded like the crack of an axe on a cow-pumpkin. Ambrosch dropped over, stunned. We heard squeals, and looking up saw Antonia and her mother coming on the run.
Presently Ambrosch said sullenly in English: 'You take them ox tomorrow and try the sod plough. Then you not be so smart. His sister laughed. 'Don't be mad. I know it's awful hard work for break sod. I milk the cow for you tomorrow, if you want. Mrs. Shimerda turned quickly to me. 'That cow not give so much milk like what your grandpa say.
As the hole was narrow and dark, the cow held back, and the old woman was slapping and pushing at her hind quarters, trying to spank her into the draw-side. Grandfather ignored her singular occupation and greeted her politely. “Good-morning, Mrs. Shimerda. Can you tell me where I will find Ambrosch? Which field?”
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