The Norwegian women didn't know where
to look. They were formal housewives, most
of them, with a severe sense of decorum. But
Lena Lingard only laughed her lazy, good-
natured laugh and rode on, gazing back over
her shoulder at Ole's infuriated wife.

The time came, however, when Lena didn't
laugh. More than once Crazy Mary chased
her across the prairie and round and round
the Shimerdas' cornfield. Lena never told her
father; perhaps she was ashamed; perhaps she
was more afraid of his anger than of the corn-
knife. I was at the Shimerdas' one afternoon
when Lena came bounding through the red
grass as fast as her white legs could carry her.
She ran straight into the house and hid in
Antonia's feather-bed. Mary was not far be-
hind; she came right up to the door and made
us feel how sharp her blade was, showing us
very graphically just what she meant to do to
Lena. Mrs. Shimerda, leaning out of the
window, enjoyed the situation keenly, and
was sorry when Antonia sent Mary away,
mollified by an apronful of bottle-tomatoes.
Lena came out from Tony's room behind the
kitchen, very pink from the heat of the
feathers, but otherwise calm. She begged

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