My Antonia

I DO NOT REMEMBER our arrival at my grandfather's farm sometime before daybreak, after adrive of nearly twenty miles with heavy work-horses. When I awoke, it was afternoon. I was lying ina little room, scarcely larger than the bed that held me, and the window-shade at my head wasflapping softly in a warm wind. A tall woman, with wrinkled brown skin and black hair, stoodlooking down at me; I knew that she must be my grandmother. She had been crying, I could see, butwhen I opened my eyes she smiled, peered at me anxiously, and sat down on the foot of my bed.'Had a good sleep, Jimmy?' she asked briskly. Then in a very different tone she said, as if toherself, 'My, how you do look like your father!' I remembered that my father had been her little boy;she must often have come to wake him like this when he overslept. 'Here are your clean clothes, ' shewent on, stroking my coverlid with her brown hand as she talked. 'But first you come down to thekitchen with me, and have a nice warm bath behind the stove. Bring your things; there's nobodyabout.''Down to the kitchen' struck me as curious; it was always 'out in the kitchen' at home. I picked upmy shoes and stockings and followed her through the living-room and down a flight of stairs into abasement. This basement was divided into a dining-room at the right of the stairs and a kitchen atthe left. Both rooms were plastered and whitewashed-the plaster laid directly upon the earth walls, as it used to be in dugouts. The floor was of hard cement. Up under the wooden ceiling there werelittle half-windows with white curtains, and pots of geraniums and wandering Jew in the deep sills.As I entered the kitchen, I sniffed a pleasant smell of gingerbread baking. The stove was very large, with bright nickel trimmings, and behind it there was a long wooden bench against the wall, and atin washtub, into which grandmother poured hot and cold water. When she brought the soap andtowels, I told her that I was used to taking my bath without help. 'Can you do your ears, Jimmy? Areyou sure? Well, now, I call you a right smart little boy.'It was pleasant there in the kitchen. The sun shone into my bath-water through the west halfwindow, and a big Maltese cat came up and rubbed himself against the tub, watching me curiously.While I scrubbed, my grandmother busied herself in the dining-room until I called anxiously, 'Grandmother, I'm afraid the cakes are burning!' Then she came laughing, waving her apron beforeher as if she were shooing chick