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----- {{myantp230.png}} || My Antonia ||


must sit all evening in a plush parlor where
conversation dragged so perceptibly that the
father often came in and made blundering
efforts to warm up the atmosphere. On his
way home from his dull call, he would perhaps
meet Tony and Lena, coming along the side-
walk whispering to each other, or the three
Bohemian Marys in their long plush coats
and caps, comporting themselves with a dig-
nity that only made their eventful histories
the more piquant. If he went to the hotel to
see a traveling man on business, there was
Tiny, arching her shoulders at him like a kit-
ten. If he went into the laundry to get his
collars, there were the four Danish girls, smil-
ing up from their ironing-boards, with their
white throats and their pink cheeks.

The three Marys were the heroines of a cycle
of scandalous stories, which the old men were
fond of relating as they sat about the cigar-
stand in the drug-store. Mary Dusak had been
housekeeper for a bachelor rancher from Bos-
ton, and after several years in his service she
was forced to retire from the world for a short
time. Later she came back to town to take
the place of her friend, Mary Svoboda, who
was similarly embarrassed. The three Marys


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