dance against and around the hard-and-fast
beat of the music. If, instead of going to
the end of the railroad, old Mr. Shimerda
had stayed in New York and picked up a
living with his fiddle, how different Antonia's
life might have been!

Antonia often went to the dances with Larry
Donovan, a passenger conductor who was a
kind of professional ladies' man, as we said.
I remember how admiringly all the boys
looked at her the night she first wore her
velveteen dress, made like Mrs. Gardener's
black velvet. She was lovely to see, with
her eyes shining, and her lips always a little
parted when she danced. That constant, dark
color in her cheeks never changed.

One evening when Donovan was out on his
run, Antonia came to the hall with Norwegian
Anna and her young man, and that night I
took her home. When we were in the Cutters'
yard, sheltered by the evergreens, I told her
she must kiss me good-night.

"Why, sure, Jim." A moment later she drew
her face away and whispered indignantly,
"Why, Jim! You know you ain't right to kiss
me like that. I'll tell your grandmother on
you!"

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