he chest is full of clean blankets,
put away for winter. Now I must go, or my girls will be doing all the
work, and I want to cook your supper myself.'

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. They talked about their school and the new
teacher, told me about the crops and the harvest, and how many steers
they would feed that winter. They were easy and confidential with me,
as if I were an old friend of the family--and not too old. I felt like
a boy in their company, and all manner of forgotten interests revived in
me. It seemed, after all, so natural to be walking along a barbed-wire
fence beside the sunset, toward a red pond, and to see my shadow moving
along at my right, over the close-cropped grass.

'Has mother shown you the pictures you sent her from the old country?'
Ambrosch asked. 'We've had them framed and they're hung up in the
parlour. She was so glad to get them. I don't believe I ever saw her
so pleased about anything.' There was a note of simple gratitude in his
voice that made me wish I had given more occasion for it.

I put my hand on his shoulder. 'Your mother, you know, was very much
loved by all of us. She was a beautiful girl.'

'Oh, we know!' They both spoke together; seemed a little surprised
that I should think it necessary to mention this. 'Everybody liked
her, didn't they? The Harlings and your grandmother, and all the town
people.'

'Sometimes,' I ventured, 'it doesn't occur to boys that their mother was
ever young and pretty.'

'Oh, we know!' they said again, warmly. 'She's not very old now,'
Ambrosch added. 'Not much older than you.'

'Well,' I said, 'if you weren't nice to her, I think I'd take a club
and go for the whole lot of you. I couldn't stand it if you boys were
inconsiderate, or thought of her as if she were just somebody who looked
after you. You see I was very much in love with your mother once, and I
know there's nobody like her.'

The boys laughed and seemed pleased and embarrassed.

'She never told us that,' said Anton. 'But she's always talked lots
about you, and about what good times you used to have. She has a picture
of