by Willa Cather
II
Emil reached home a little past noon, and when he went into thekitchen Alexandra was already seated at the head of the long table,having dinner with her men, as she always did unless there werevisitors. He slipped into his empty place at his sister's right.The three pretty young Swedish girls who did Alexandra's houseworkwere cutting pies, refilling coffeecups, placing platters of breadand meat and potatoes upon the red tablecloth, and continuallygetting in each other's way between the table and the stove. To besure they always wasted a good deal of time getting in each other'sway and giggling at each other's mistakes. But, as Alexandra hadpointedly told her sisters-in-law, it was to hear them giggle thatshe kept three young things in her kitchen; the work she coulddo herself, if it were necessary. These girls, with their longletters from home, their finery, and their love-affairs, affordedher a great deal of entertainment, and they were company for herwhen Emil was away at school.
Of the youngest girl, Signa, who has a pretty figure, mottled pinkcheeks, and yellow hair, Alexandra is very fond, though she keepsa sharp eye upon her. Signa is apt to be skittish at mealtime, whenthe men are about, and to spill the coffee or upset the cream. Itis supposed that Nelse Jensen, one of the six men at the dinner-table,is courting Signa, though he has been so careful not to commithimself that no one in the house, least of all Signa, can telljust how far the matter has progressed. Nelse watches her glumlyas she waits upon the table, and in the evening he sits on a benchbehind the stove with his DRAGHARMONIKA, playing mournful airsand watching her as she goes about her work. When Alexandra askedSigna whether she thought Nelse was in earnest, the poor child hidher hands under her apron and murmured, "I don't know, ma'm. Buthe scolds me about everything, like as if he wanted to have me!"
At Alexandra's left sat a very old man, barefoot and wearing a longblue blouse, open at the neck. His shaggy head is scarcely whiterthan it was sixteen years ago, but his little blue eyes have becomepale and watery, and his ruddy face is withered, like an apple thathas clung all winter to the tree. When Ivar lost his land throughmismanagement a dozen years ago, Alexandra took him in, and he hasbeen a member of her household ever since. He is too old to workin the fields, but he hitches and unhitches the work-teams andlooks after the health of the stock. Sometimes of a winter eveningAlexandra calls him into the sitting-room to read the Bible aloudto her, for he still reads very well. He dislikes human habitations,so Alexandra has fitted him up a room in the barn, where he is verycomfortable, being near the horses and, as he says, further fromtemptations. No one has ever found out what his temptations are.In cold weather he sits by the kitchen fire and makes hammocksor mends harness until it is time to go to bed. Then he says hisprayers at great length behind the stove, puts on his buffalo-skincoat and goes out to his room in the barn.
Alexandra herself has changed very little. Her figure is fuller,and she has more color. She seems sunnier and more vigorous thanshe did as a young girl. But she still has the same calmness anddeliberation of manner, the same clear eyes, and she still wearsher hair in two braids wound round her head. It is so curly thatfiery ends escape from the braids and make her head look like oneof the big double sunflowers that fringe her vegetable garden.Her face is always tanned in summer, for her sunbonnet is ofteneron her arm than on her head. But where her collar falls away fromher neck, or where her sleeves are pushed back from her wrist, theskin is of such smoothness and whiteness as none but Swedish womenever possess; skin with the freshness of the snow itself.
Alexandra did not talk much at the table, but she encouraged hermen to talk, and she always listened attentively, even when theyseemed to be talking foolishly.
To-day Barney Flinn, the big red-headed Irishman who had been withAlexandra for five years and who was actually her foreman, thoughhe had no such title, was grumbling about the new silo she had putup that spring. It happened to be the first silo on the Divide,and Alexandra's neighbors and her men were skeptical about it. "Tobe sure, if the thing don't work, we'll have plenty of feed withoutit, indeed," Barney conceded.
Nelse Jensen, Signa's gloomy suitor, had his word. "Lou, he sayshe wouldn't have no silo on his place if you'd give it to him.He says the feed outen it gives the stock the bloat. He heard ofsomebody lost four head of horses, feedin' 'em that stuff."
Alexandra looked down the table from one to another. "Well,the only way we can find out is to try. Lou and I have differentnotions about feeding stock, and that's a good thing. It's bad ifall the members of a family think alike. They never get anywhere.Lou can learn by my mistakes and I can learn by his. Isn't thatfair, Barney?"
The Irishman laughed. He had no love for Lou, who was always uppishwith him and who said that Alexandra paid her hands too much. "I'veno thought but to give the thing an honest try, mum. 'T would beonly right, after puttin' so much expense into it. Maybe Emil willcome out an' have a look at it wid me." He pushed back his chair,took his hat from the nail, and marched out with Emil, who, withhis university ideas, was supposed to have instigated the silo.The other hands followed them, all except old Ivar. He had beendepressed throughout the meal and had paid no heed to the talk ofthe men, even when they mentioned cornstalk bloat, upon which hewas sure to have opinions.
"Did you want to speak to me, Ivar?" Alexandra asked as she rosefrom the table. "Come into the sitting-room."
The old man followed Alexandra, but when she motioned him to a chairhe shook his head. She took up her workbasket and waited for himto speak. He stood looking at the carpet, his bushy head bowed,his hands clasped in front of him. Ivar's bandy legs seemed tohave grown shorter with years, and they were completely misfittedto his broad, thick body and heavy shoulders.
"Well, Ivar, what is it?" Alexandra asked after she had waitedlonger than usual.
Ivar had never learned to speak English and his Norwegian was quaintand grave, like the speech of the more old-fashioned people. Healways addressed Alexandra in terms of the deepest respect, hopingto set a good example to the kitchen girls, whom he thought toofamiliar in their manners.
"Mistress," he began faintly, without raising his eyes, "the folkhave been looking coldly at me of late. You know there has beentalk."
"Talk about what, Ivar?"
"About sending me away; to the asylum."
Alexandra put down her sewing-basket. "Nobody has come to me withsuch talk," she said decidedly. "Why need you listen? You knowI would never consent to such a thing."
Ivar lifted his shaggy head and looked at her out of his littleeyes. "They say that you cannot prevent it if the folk complain ofme, if your brothers complain to the authorities. They say thatyour brothers are afraid--God forbid!--that I may do you someinjury when my spells are on me. Mistress, how can any one thinkthat?--that I could bite the hand that fed me!" The tears trickleddown on the old man's beard.
Alexandra frowned. "Ivar, I wonder at you, that you should comebothering me with such nonsense. I am still running my own house,and other people have nothing to do with either you or me. So longas I am suited with you, there is nothing to be said."
Ivar pulled a red handkerchief out of the breast of his blouse andwiped his eyes and beard. "But I should not wish you to keep meif, as they say, it is against your interests, and if it is hardfor you to get hands because I am here."
Alexandra made an impatient gesture, but the old man put out hishand and went on earnestly:--
"Listen, mistress, it is right that you should take these thingsinto account. You know that my spells come from God, and thatI would not harm any living creature. You believe that every oneshould worship God in the way revealed to him. But that is notthe way of this country. The way here is for all to do alike. Iam despised because I do not wear shoes, because I do not cut myhair, and because I have visions. At home, in the old country,there were many like me, who had been touched by God, or who hadseen things in the graveyard at night and were different afterward.We thought nothing of it, and let them alone. But here, if a manis different in his feet or in his head, they put him in t
he asylum.Look at Peter Kralik; when he was a boy, drinking out of a creek,he swallowed a snake, and always after that he could eat onlysuch food as the creature liked, for when he ate anything else, itbecame enraged and gnawed him. When he felt it whipping about inhim, he drank alcohol to stupefy it and get some ease for himself.He could work as good as any man, and his head was clear, but theylocked him up for being different in his stomach. That is the way;they have built the asylum for people who are different, and theywill not even let us live in the holes with the badgers. Onlyyour great prosperity has protected me so far. If you had hadill-fortune, they would have taken me to Hastings long ago."
As Ivar talked, his gloom lifted. Alexandra had found that shecould often break his fasts and long penances by talking to himand letting him pour out the thoughts that troubled him. Sympathyalways cleared his mind, and ridicule was poison to him.
"There is a great deal in what you say, Ivar. Like as not theywill be wanting to take me to Hastings because I have built a silo;and then I may take you with me. But at present I need you here.Only don't come to me again telling me what people say. Let peoplego on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we thinkbest. You have been with me now for twelve years, and I have goneto you for advice oftener than I have ever gone to any one. Thatought to satisfy you."
Ivar bowed humbly. "Yes, mistress, I shall not trouble you withtheir talk again. And as for my feet, I have observed your wishesall these years, though you have never questioned me; washing themevery night, even in winter."
Alexandra laughed. "Oh, never mind about your feet, Ivar. We canremember when half our neighbors went barefoot in summer. I expectold Mrs. Lee would love to slip her shoes off now sometimes, ifshe dared. I'm glad I'm not Lou's mother-in-law."
Ivar looked about mysteriously and lowered his voice almost to awhisper. "You know what they have over at Lou's house? A greatwhite tub, like the stone water-troughs in the old country, to washthemselves in. When you sent me over with the strawberries, theywere all in town but the old woman Lee and the baby. She took mein and showed me the thing, and she told me it was impossible towash yourself clean in it, because, in so much water, you couldnot make a strong suds. So when they fill it up and send her inthere, she pretends, and makes a splashing noise. Then, when theyare all asleep, she washes herself in a little wooden tub she keepsunder her bed."
Alexandra shook with laughter. "Poor old Mrs. Lee! They won't lether wear nightcaps, either. Never mind; when she comes to visitme, she can do all the old things in the old way, and have as muchbeer as she wants. We'll start an asylum for old-time people,Ivar."
Ivar folded his big handkerchief carefully and thrust it back intohis blouse. "This is always the way, mistress. I come to yousorrowing, and you send me away with a light heart. And will yoube so good as to tell the Irishman that he is not to work the browngelding until the sore on its shoulder is healed?"
"That I will. Now go and put Emil's mare to the cart. I am goingto drive up to the north quarter to meet the man from town who isto buy my alfalfa hay."
