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Cather, Willa Sibert, 1873-1947

"My Antonia"


She was so glad to get them. I don't believe I ever saw her so pleased
about anything.' There was a note of simple gratitude in his voice that
made me wish I had given more occasion for it.
I put my hand on his shoulder. `Your mother, you know, was very much loved
by all of us. She was a beautiful girl.'
`Oh, we know!' They both spoke together; seemed a little surprised that I
should think it necessary to mention this. `Everybody liked her, didn't
they? The Harlings and your grandmother, and all the town people.'
`Sometimes,' I ventured, `it doesn't occur to boys that their mother was
ever young and pretty.'
`Oh, we know!' they said again, warmly. `She's not very old now,' Ambrosch
added. `Not much older than you.'
`Well,' I said, `if you weren't nice to her, I think I'd take a club and go
for the whole lot of you. I couldn't stand it if you boys were
inconsiderate, or thought of her as if she were just somebody who looked
after you. You see I was very much in love with your mother once, and I
know there's nobody like her.'
The boys laughed and seemed pleased and embarrassed.
`She never told us that,' said Anton. `But she's always talked lots about
you, and about what good times you used to have. She has a picture of you
that she cut out of the Chicago paper once, and Leo says he recognized you
when you drove up to the windmill.


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