My Antonia Read online

  III

  ON SATURDAY AMBROSCH drove up to the back gate, and Antonia jumped downfrom the wagon and ran into our kitchen just as she used to do. She waswearing shoes and stockings, and was breathless and excited. She gave mea playful shake by the shoulders. 'You ain't forget about me, Jim?'

  Grandmother kissed her. 'God bless you, child! Now you've come, you musttry to do right and be a credit to us.'

  Antonia looked eagerly about the house and admired everything. 'Maybe Ibe the kind of girl you like better; now I come to town,' she suggestedhopefully.

  How good it was to have Antonia near us again; to see her every day andalmost every night! Her greatest fault, Mrs. Harling found, was thatshe so often stopped her work and fell to playing with the children. Shewould race about the orchard with us, or take sides in our hay-fightsin the barn, or be the old bear that came down from the mountain andcarried off Nina. Tony learned English so quickly that by the timeschool began she could speak as well as any of us.

  I was jealous of Tony's admiration for Charley Harling. Because he wasalways first in his classes at school, and could mend the water-pipesor the doorbell and take the clock to pieces, she seemed to think hima sort of prince. Nothing that Charley wanted was too much trouble forher. She loved to put up lunches for him when he went hunting, to mendhis ball-gloves and sew buttons on his shooting-coat, baked the kind ofnut-cake he liked, and fed his setter dog when he was away on trips withhis father. Antonia had made herself cloth working-slippers out of Mr.Harling's old coats, and in these she went padding about after Charley,fairly panting with eagerness to please him.

  Next to Charley, I think she loved Nina best. Nina was only six, and shewas rather more complex than the other children. She was fanciful,had all sorts of unspoken preferences, and was easily offended. At theslightest disappointment or displeasure, her velvety brown eyes filledwith tears, and she would lift her chin and walk silently away. If weran after her and tried to appease her, it did no good. She walked onunmollified. I used to think that no eyes in the world could growso large or hold so many tears as Nina's. Mrs. Harling and Antoniainvariably took her part. We were never given a chance to explain. Thecharge was simply: 'You have made Nina cry. Now, Jimmy can go home, andSally must get her arithmetic.' I liked Nina, too; she was so quaint andunexpected, and her eyes were lovely; but I often wanted to shake her.

  We had jolly evenings at the Harlings' when the father was away. If hewas at home, the children had to go to bed early, or they came overto my house to play. Mr. Harling not only demanded a quiet house, hedemanded all his wife's attention. He used to take her away to theirroom in the west ell, and talk over his business with her all evening.Though we did not realize it then, Mrs. Harling was our audience when weplayed, and we always looked to her for suggestions. Nothing flatteredone like her quick laugh.

  Mr. Harling had a desk in his bedroom, and his own easy-chair by thewindow, in which no one else ever sat. On the nights when he was athome, I could see his shadow on the blind, and it seemed to me anarrogant shadow. Mrs. Harling paid no heed to anyone else if he wasthere. Before he went to bed she always got him a lunch of smoked salmonor anchovies and beer. He kept an alcohol lamp in his room, and a Frenchcoffee-pot, and his wife made coffee for him at any hour of the night hehappened to want it.

  Most Black Hawk fathers had no personal habits outside their domesticones; they paid the bills, pushed the baby-carriage after office hours,moved the sprinkler about over the lawn, and took the family driving onSunday. Mr. Harling, therefore, seemed to me autocratic and imperial inhis ways. He walked, talked, put on his gloves, shook hands, like a manwho felt that he had power. He was not tall, but he carried his head sohaughtily that he looked a commanding figure, and there was somethingdaring and challenging in his eyes. I used to imagine that the 'nobles'of whom Antonia was always talking probably looked very much likeChristian Harling, wore caped overcoats like his, and just such aglittering diamond upon the little finger.

  Except when the father was at home, the Harling house was never quiet.Mrs. Harling and Nina and Antonia made as much noise as a houseful ofchildren, and there was usually somebody at the piano. Julia was theonly one who was held down to regular hours of practising, but theyall played. When Frances came home at noon, she played until dinner wasready. When Sally got back from school, she sat down in her hat and coatand drummed the plantation melodies that Negro minstrel troupes broughtto town. Even Nina played the Swedish Wedding March.

  Mrs. Harling had studied the piano under a good teacher, and somehow shemanaged to practise every day. I soon learned that if I were sent overon an errand and found Mrs. Harling at the piano, I must sit down andwait quietly until she turned to me. I can see her at this moment: hershort, square person planted firmly on the stool, her little fat handsmoving quickly and neatly over the keys, her eyes fixed on the musicwith intelligent concentration.