My Ántonia

by Willa Cather

  II

  GRANDMOTHER often said that if she had to live in town, she thanked Godshe lived next the Harlings. They had been farming people, like ourselves,and their place was like a little farm, with a big barn and a garden, andan orchard and grazing lots,--even a windmill. The Harlings wereNorwegians, and Mrs. Harling had lived in Christiania until she was tenyears old. Her husband was born in Minnesota. He was a grain merchant andcattle buyer, and was generally considered the most enterprising businessman in our county. He controlled a line of grain elevators in the littletowns along the railroad to the west of us, and was away from home a greatdeal. In his absence his wife was the head of the household.

  Mrs. Harling was short and square and sturdy-looking, like her house.Every inch of her was charged with an energy that made itself felt themoment she entered a room. Her face was rosy and solid, with bright,twinkling eyes and a stubborn little chin. She was quick to anger, quickto laughter, and jolly from the depths of her soul. How well I rememberher laugh; it had in it the same sudden recognition that flashed into hereyes, was a burst of humor, short and intelligent. Her rapid footstepsshook her own floors, and she routed lassitude and indifference wherevershe came. She could not be negative or perfunctory about anything. Herenthusiasm, and her violent likes and dislikes, asserted themselves in allthe every-day occupations of life. Wash-day was interesting, never dreary,at the Harlings'. Preserving-time was a prolonged festival, andhouse-cleaning was like a revolution. When Mrs. Harling made garden thatspring, we could feel the stir of her undertaking through the willow hedgethat separated our place from hers.

  Three of the Harling children were near me in age. Charley, the onlyson,--they had lost an older boy,--was sixteen; Julia, who was known as themusical one, was fourteen when I was; and Sally, the tomboy with shorthair, was a year younger. She was nearly as strong as I, and uncannilyclever at all boys' sports. Sally was a wild thing, with sunburned yellowhair, bobbed about her ears, and a brown skin, for she never wore a hat.She raced all over town on one roller skate, often cheated at "keeps," butwas such a quick shot one could n't catch her at it.

  The grown-up daughter, Frances, was a very important person in our world.She was her father's chief clerk, and virtually managed his Black Hawkoffice during his frequent absences. Because of her unusual businessability, he was stern and exacting with her. He paid her a good salary,but she had few holidays and never got away from her responsibilities.Even on Sundays she went to the office to open the mail and read themarkets. With Charley, who was not interested in business, but was alreadypreparing for Annapolis, Mr. Harling was very indulgent; bought him gunsand tools and electric batteries, and never asked what he did with them.

  Frances was dark, like her father, and quite as tall. In winter she wore asealskin coat and cap, and she and Mr. Harling used to walk home togetherin the evening, talking about grain-cars and cattle, like two men.Sometimes she came over to see grandfather after supper, and her visitsflattered him. More than once they put their wits together to rescue someunfortunate farmer from the clutches of Wick Cutter, the Black Hawkmoney-lender. Grandfather said Frances Harling was as good a judge ofcredits as any banker in the county. The two or three men who had tried totake advantage of her in a deal acquired celebrity by their defeat. Sheknew every farmer for miles about; how much land he had under cultivation,how many cattle he was feeding, what his liabilities were. Her interest inthese people was more than a business interest. She carried them all inher mind as if they were characters in a book or a play.

  When Frances drove out into the country on business, she would go milesout of her way to call on some of the old people, or to see the women whoseldom got to town. She was quick at understanding the grandmothers whospoke no English, and the most reticent and distrustful of them would tellher their story without realizing they were doing so. She went to countryfunerals and weddings in all weathers. A farmer's daughter who was to bemarried could count on a wedding present from Frances Harling.

  In August the Harlings' Danish cook had to leave them. Grandmotherentreated them to try Antonia. She cornered Ambrosch the next time he cameto town, and pointed out to him that any connection with Christian Harlingwould strengthen his credit and be of advantage to him. One Sunday Mrs.Harling took the long ride out to the Shimerdas' with Frances. She saidshe wanted to see "what the girl came from" and to have a clearunderstanding with her mother. I was in our yard when they came drivinghome, just before sunset. They laughed and waved to me as they passed, andI could see they were in great good humor. After supper, when grandfatherset off to church, grandmother and I took my short cut through the willowhedge and went over to hear about the visit to the Shimerdas.

  We found Mrs. Harling with Charley and Sally on the front porch, restingafter her hard drive. Julia was in the hammock--she was fond of repose--andFrances was at the piano, playing without a light and talking to hermother through the open window.

  Mrs. Harling laughed when she saw us coming. "I expect you left yourdishes on the table to-night, Mrs. Burden," she called. Frances shut thepiano and came out to join us.

  They had liked Antonia from their first glimpse of her; felt they knewexactly what kind of girl she was. As for Mrs. Shimerda, they found hervery amusing. Mrs. Harling chuckled whenever she spoke of her. "I expect Iam more at home with that sort of bird than you are, Mrs. Burden. They'rea pair, Ambrosch and that old woman!"

  They had had a long argument with Ambrosch about Antonia's allowance forclothes and pocket-money. It was his plan that every cent of his sister'swages should be paid over to him each month, and he would provide her withsuch clothing as he thought necessary. When Mrs. Harling told him firmlythat she would keep fifty dollars a year for Antonia's own use, hedeclared they wanted to take his sister to town and dress her up and makea fool of her. Mrs. Harling gave us a lively account of Ambrosch'sbehavior throughout the interview; how he kept jumping up and putting onhis cap as if he were through with the whole business, and how his mothertweaked his coat-tail and prompted him in Bohemian. Mrs. Harling finallyagreed to pay three dollars a week for Antonia's services--good wages inthose days--and to keep her in shoes. There had been hot dispute about theshoes, Mrs. Shimerda finally saying persuasively that she would send Mrs.Harling three fat geese every year to "make even." Ambrosch was to bringhis sister to town next Saturday.

  "She'll be awkward and rough at first, like enough," grandmother saidanxiously, "but unless she's been spoiled by the hard life she's led, shehas it in her to be a real helpful girl."

  Mrs. Harling laughed her quick, decided laugh. "Oh, I'm not worrying, Mrs.Burden! I can bring something out of that girl. She's barely seventeen,not too old to learn new ways. She's good-looking, too!" she added warmly.

  Frances turned to grandmother. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Burden, you did n't tell usthat! She was working in the garden when we got there, barefoot andragged. But she has such fine brown legs and arms, and splendid color inher cheeks--like those big dark red plums."

  We were pleased at this praise. Grandmother spoke feelingly. "When shefirst came to this country, Frances, and had that genteel old man to watchover her, she was as pretty a girl as ever I saw. But, dear me, what alife she's led, out in the fields with those rough thrashers! Things wouldhave been very different with poor Antonia if her father had lived."

  The Harlings begged us to tell them about Mr. Shimerda's death and the bigsnowstorm. By the time we saw grandfather coming home from church we hadtold them pretty much all we knew of the Shimerdas.

  "The girl will be happy here, and she'll forget those things," said Mrs.Harling confidently, as we rose to take our leave.