My schoolmates were none of them very interesting,
but I somehow felt that, by making comrades of them, I was getting even
with Antonia for her indifference. Since the father's death, Ambrosch was
more than ever the head of the house, and he seemed to direct the feelings
as well as the fortunes of his womenfolk. Antonia often quoted his
opinions to me, and she let me see that she admired him, while she thought
of me only as a little boy. Before the spring was over, there was a
distinct coldness between us and the Shimerdas. It came about in this way.
One Sunday I rode over there with Jake to get a horse-collar which Ambrosch
had borrowed from him and had not returned. It was a beautiful blue
morning. The buffalo-peas were blooming in pink and purple masses along
the roadside, and the larks, perched on last year's dried sunflower stalks,
were singing straight at the sun, their heads thrown back and their yellow
breasts a-quiver. The wind blew about us in warm, sweet gusts. We rode
slowly, with a pleasant sense of Sunday indolence.
We found the Shimerdas working just as if it were a week-day. Marek was
cleaning out the stable, and Antonia and her mother were making garden, off
across the pond in the draw-head. Ambrosch was up on the windmill tower,
oiling the wheel.
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