The old man held the lantern. `Yulka,' he said in a low, despairing voice,
`Yulka; my Antonia!'
Grandmother drew back. `You mean they sleep in there--your girls?' He
bowed his head.
Tony slipped under his arm. `It is very cold on the floor, and this is
warm like the badger hole. I like for sleep there,' she insisted eagerly.
`My mamenka have nice bed, with pillows from our own geese in Bohemie.
See, Jim?' She pointed to the narrow bunk which Krajiek had built against
the wall for himself before the Shimerdas came.
Grandmother sighed. `Sure enough, where WOULD you sleep, dear! I don't
doubt you're warm there. You'll have a better house after while, Antonia,
and then you will forget these hard times.'
Mr. Shimerda made grandmother sit down on the only chair and pointed his
wife to a stool beside her. Standing before them with his hand on
Antonia's shoulder, he talked in a low tone, and his daughter translated.
He wanted us to know that they were not beggars in the old country; he made
good wages, and his family were respected there. He left Bohemia with more
than a thousand dollars in savings, after their passage money was paid. He
had in some way lost on exchange in New York, and the railway fare to
Nebraska was more than they had expected.
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