I
taught her hemstitching, and I helped her to cut and fit. She used to sit
there at that machine by the window, pedalling the life out of it--she was
so strong--and always singing them queer Bohemian songs, like she was the
happiest thing in the world.
`"Antonia," I used to say, "don't run that machine so fast. You won't
hasten the day none that way."
`Then she'd laugh and slow down for a little, but she'd soon forget and
begin to pedal and sing again. I never saw a girl work harder to go to
housekeeping right and well-prepared. Lovely table-linen the Harlings had
given her, and Lena Lingard had sent her nice things from Lincoln. We
hemstitched all the tablecloths and pillow-cases, and some of the sheets.
Old Mrs. Shimerda knit yards and yards of lace for her underclothes. Tony
told me just how she meant to have everything in her house. She'd even
bought silver spoons and forks, and kept them in her trunk. She was always
coaxing brother to go to the post-office. Her young man did write her real
often, from the different towns along his run.
`The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been
changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. "I'm a country
girl," she said, "and I doubt if I'll be able to manage so well for him in
a city.
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