good farmer." He struck Ambrosch on the
back, and the boy smiled knowingly.

At that moment the father came out of the
hole in the bank. He wore no hat, and his
thick, iron-gray hair was brushed straight
back from his forehead. It was so long that it
bushed out behind his ears, and made him
look like the old portraits I remembered in
Virginia. He was tall and slender, and his thin
shoulders stooped. He looked at us under-
standingly, then took grandmother's hand and
bent over it. I noticed how white and well-
shaped his own hands were. They looked
calm, somehow, and skilled. His eyes were
melancholy, and were set back deep under his
brow. His face was ruggedly formed, but it
looked like ashes -- like something from which
all the warmth and light had died out. Every-
thing about this old man was in keeping with
his dignified manner. He was neatly dressed.
Under his coat he wore a knitted gray vest,
and, instead of a collar, a silk scarf of a dark
bronze-green, carefully crossed and held to-
gether by a red coral pin. While Krajiek
was translating for Mr. Shimerda, Antonia
came up to me and held out her hand coax-
ingly. In a moment we were running up

[[27]]

p026 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p027w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p028

v?