calf that broke its leg, or how Yulka saved her
little turkeys from drowning in the freshet, or
about old Christmases and weddings in Bo-
hemia. Nina interpreted the stories about
the creche fancifully, and in spite of our deri-
sion she cherished a belief that Christ was
born in Bohemia a short time before the Shi-
merdas left that country. We all liked Tony's
stories. Her voice had a peculiarly engaging
quality; it was deep, a little husky, and one
always heard the breath vibrating behind it.
Everything she said seemed to come right out
of her heart.

One evening when we were picking out ker-
nels for walnut taffy, Tony told us a new
story.

"Mrs. Harling, did you ever hear about
what happened up in the Norwegian settle-
ment last summer, when I was thrashing
there? We were at Iversons', and I was driv-
ing one of the grain wagons."

Mrs. Harling came out and sat down among
us. "Could you throw the wheat into the bin
yourself, Tony?" She knew what heavy work
it was.

"Yes, mam, I did. I could shovel just as fast
as that fat Andern boy that drove the other

[[201]]

p200 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p201w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p202

v?