f the girls dropped
her towel, ran across the floor with noiseless bare feet, and disappeared.
The older one, who wore shoes and stockings, came to the door to admit me.
She was a buxom girl with dark hair and eyes, calm and self-possessed.

"Won't you come in? Mother will be here in a minute."

Before I could sit down in the chair she offered me, the miracle happened;
one of those quiet moments that clutch the heart, and take more courage
than the noisy, excited passages in life. Antonia came in and stood before
me; a stalwart, brown woman, flat-chested, her curly brown hair a little
grizzled. It was a shock, of course. It always is, to meet people after
long years, especially if they have lived as much and as hard as this
woman had. We stood looking at each other. The eyes that peered anxiously
at me were--simply Antonia's eyes. I had seen no others like them since I
looked into them last, though I had looked at so many thousands of human
faces. As I confronted her, the changes grew less apparent to me, her
identity stronger. She was there, in the full vigor of her personality,
battered but not diminished, looking at me, speaking to me in the husky,
breathy voice I remembered so well.

"My husband's not at home, sir. Can I do anything?"

"Don't you remember me, Antonia? Have I changed so much?"

She frowned into the slanting sunlight that made her brown hair look
redder than it was. Suddenly her eyes widened, her whole face seemed to
grow broader. She caught her breath and put out two hard-worked hands.

"Why, it's Jim! Anna, Yulka, it's Jim Burden!" She had no sooner caught my
hands than she looked alarmed. "What's happened? Is anybody dead?"

I patted her arm. "No. I did n't come to a funeral this time. I got off
the train at Hastings and drove down to see you and your family."

She dropped my hand and began rushing about. "Anton, Yulka, Nina, where
are you all? Run, Anna, and hunt for the boys. They're off looking for
that dog, somewhere. And call Leo. Where is that Leo!" She pulled them out
of corners and came bringing them like a mother cat bringing in her
kittens. "You don't have to go right off, Jim? My oldest boy's not here.
He's gone with papa to the street fair at Wilber. I won't let you go!
You've got to stay and see Rudolph and our papa." She looked at me
imploringly, panting with excitement.

While I reassured her and told her there would be plenty of time, the
barefooted boys from outside were sl