hold
of turns out well. When they bring that baby in here, and unwrap him, he
looks like a little prince; Martha takes care of him so beautiful. I'm
reconciled to her being away from me now, but at first I cried like I was
putting her into her coffin."

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."

Antonia nodded and smiled at herself. "I know it was silly, but I could
n't help it. I wanted her right here. She'd never been away from me a
night since she was born. If Anton had made trouble about her when she was
a baby, or wanted me to leave her with my mother, I would n't have married
him. I could n't. But he always loved her like she was his own."

"I did n't even know Martha was n't my full sister until after she was
engaged to Joe," Anna told me.

Toward the middle of the afternoon the wagon drove in, with the father and
the eldest son. I was smoking in the orchard, and as I went out to meet
them, Antonia came running down from the house and hugged the two men as
if they had been away for months.

"Papa" interested me, from my first glimpse of him. He was shorter than
his older sons; a crumpled little man, with run-over boot heels, and he
carried one shoulder higher than the other. But he moved very quickly, and
there was an air of jaunty liveliness about him. He had a strong, ruddy
color, thick black hair, a little grizzled, a curly mustache, and red
lips. His smile showed the strong teeth of which his wife was so proud,
and as he saw me his lively, quizzical eyes told me that he knew all about
me. He looked like a humorous philosopher who had hitched up one shoulder
under the burdens of life, and gone on his way having a good time when he
could. He advanced to meet me and gave me a hard hand, burned red on the
back and heavily coated with hair. He wore his Sunday clothes, very thick
and hot for the weather, an unstarched white shirt, and a blue necktie
with big white dots, like a little boy's, tied in a flowing bow. Cuzak
began at once to talk about his holiday--from politeness he spoke in
English.

"Mama, I wish you had see the lady dance on the slack-wire in the street
at night. They throw a bright light on her and she float through the air
something beautiful, like a bird! T