"And there's Mr. Harling, in his grand
fur coat. He was awfully rich, wasn't he,
mother?"

"He wasn't any Rockefeller," put in Mas-
ter Leo, in a very low tone, which reminded
me of the way in which Mrs. Shimerda had
once said that my grandfather "wasn't Jesus."
His habitual skepticism was like a direct in-
heritance from that old woman.

"None of your smart speeches," said Am-
brosch severely.

Leo poked out a supple red tongue at him,
but a moment later broke into a giggle at a
tintype of two men, uncomfortably seated,
with an awkward-looking boy in baggy clothes
standing between them; Jake and Otto and I!
We had it taken, I remembered, when we went
to Black Hawk on the first Fourth of July I
spent in Nebraska. I was glad to see Jake's
grin again, and Otto's ferocious mustaches.
The young Cuzaks knew all about them.

"He made grandfather's coffin, didn't he?"
Anton asked.

"Wasn't they good fellows, Jim?" An-
tonia's eyes filled. "To this day I'm ashamed
because I quarreled with Jake that way. I was
saucy and impertinent to him, Leo, like you

[[395]]

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v?