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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 her since she came back. She lives at home, on the farm, and almost never comes to town.
But his father made a fuss about it and said he would n’t give Nick any land if he married me, so he’s going to marry Annie Iverson. I would n’t like to be her; Nick’s awful sullen, and he’ll take it out on her. He ain’t spoke to his father since he promised.” Frances laughed. “And how do you feel about it?”
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 mutilation quite casually—did n’t seem sensitive about it. She was satisfied with her success, but not elated.
He had brought a tintype of himself and Rudolph for Ántonia’s collection, and several paper bags of candy for the children. He looked a little disappointed when his wife showed him a big box of candy I had got in Denver—she had n’t let the children touch it the night before.
You must promise to marry us all, and then baptize the babies.” Norwegian Anna, always dignified, looked at her reprovingly. “Baptists don’t believe in christening babies, do they, Jim?” I told her I did n’t know what they believed, and did n’t care, and that I certainly was n’t going to be a preacher. “That’s too bad,” Tiny simpered. She was in a teasing mood. “You’d make such a good one.
The men put in the horses and got the machine going, and Ole Iverson was up on the deck, cutting bands. I was sitting against a straw stack, trying to get some shade. My wagon was n’t going out first, and somehow I felt the heat awful that day. The sun was so hot like it was going to burn the world up. After a while I see a man coming across the stubble, and when he got close I see it was a tramp.
Ántonia said she did n’t believe it; that the dogs probably lapped up the dew in the early morning, like the rabbits. Ántonia had opinions about everything, and she was soon able to make them known. Almost every day she came running across the prairie to have her reading lesson with me. Mrs. Shimerda grumbled, but realized it was important that one member of the family should learn English.
He had n’t been seen nowhere except in a little town they call Conway. He tried to get beer there, but there was n’t any saloon. Maybe he came in on a freight, but the brakeman had n’t seen him. They could n’t find no letters nor nothing on him; nothing but an old penknife in his pocket and the wishbone of a chicken wrapped up in a piece of paper, and some poetry.” “Some poetry?” we exclaimed.
We were alone in the kitchen, except for Anna, who was pouring cream into the churn. She looked up at me. “Yes, she did. We were just ashamed of mother. She went round crying, when Martha was so happy, and the rest of us were all glad. Joe certainly was patient with you, mother.” Ántonia nodded and smiled at herself. “I know it was silly, but I could n’t help it. I wanted her right here.
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.
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