hat the dogwoods and scrub-oaks began to turn
up the silvery under-side of their leaves, and all the foliage looked soft
and wilted. I carried the lunch-basket to the top of one of the chalk
bluffs, where even on the calmest days there was always a breeze. The
flat-topped, twisted little oaks threw light shadows on the grass. Below
us we could see the windings of the river, and Black Hawk, grouped among
its trees, and, beyond, the rolling country, swelling gently until it met
the sky. We could recognize familiar farmhouses and windmills. Each of the
girls pointed out to me the direction in which her father's farm lay, and
told me how many acres were in wheat that year and how many in corn.

"My old folks," said Tiny Soderball, "have put in twenty acres of rye.
They get it ground at the mill, and it makes nice bread. It seems like my
mother ain't been so homesick, ever since father's raised rye flour for
her."

"It must have been a trial for our mothers," said Lena, "coming out here
and having to do everything different. My mother had always lived in town.
She says she started behind in farm-work, and never has caught up."

"Yes, a new country's hard on the old ones, sometimes," said Anna
thoughtfully. "My grandmother's getting feeble now, and her mind wanders.
She's forgot about this country, and thinks she's at home in Norway. She
keeps asking mother to take her down to the waterside and the fish market.
She craves fish all the time. Whenever I go home I take her canned salmon
and mackerel."

"Mercy, it's hot!" Lena yawned. She was supine under a little oak, resting
after the fury of her elder-hunting, and had taken off the high-heeled
slippers she had been silly enough to wear. "Come here, Jim. You never got
the sand out of your hair." She began to draw her fingers slowly through
my hair.

Antonia pushed her away. "You'll never get it out like that," she said
sharply. She gave my head a rough touzling and finished me off with
something like a box on the ear. "Lena, you ought n't to try to wear those
slippers any more. They're too small for your feet. You'd better give them
to me for Yulka."

"All right," said Lena good-naturedly, tucking her white stockings under
her skirt. "You get all Yulka's things, don't you? I wish father did n't
have such bad luck with his farm machinery; then I could buy more things
for my sisters. I'm going to get Mary a new coat this fall, if the sulky
plough's never paid for!"

Tiny