I walked between the two older boys --
straight, well-made fellows, with good heads
and clear eyes. They talked about their school
and the new teacher, told me about the crops
and the harvest, and how many steers they
would feed that winter. They were easy and
confidential with me, as if I were an old friend
of the family -- and not too old. I felt like
a boy in their company, and all manner of
forgotten interests revived in me. It seemed,
after all, so natural to be walking along a
barbed-wire fence beside the sunset, toward
a red pond, and to see my shadow moving
along at my right, over the close-cropped
grass.

"Has mother shown you the pictures you
sent her from the old country?" Ambrosch
asked. "We've had them framed and they're
hung up in the parlor. She was so glad to get
them. I don't believe I ever saw her so pleased
about anything." There was a note of simple
gratitude in his voice that made me wish I had
given more occasion for it.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Your
mother, you know, was very much loved by
all of us. She was a beautiful girl."

"Oh, we know!" They both spoke to-

[[389]]

p388 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p389w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p390

v?