She knew that the
Yankee girls did not work in the fields-even the Norwegian girls
seldom did so now, they worked out in town-but she had been
brought up to hoe and pull weeds from her childhood, and her
father and mother considered it good for her, and being a gentle
and obedient child, she still continued to do as she was told.
Claude pitied the girl, and used to talk with her, during his short
stay, in his cheeriest manner.
"Hello, Nina! How you vass, ain't it? How much cream already you
got this morning? Did you hear the news, not?"
"No, vot hass happened?"
"Everything. Frank Mcvey's horse stepped through the bridge and
broke his leg, and he's going to sue the county-mean Frank is, not
the horse."
"Iss dot so?"
"Sure! and Bill Hetner had a fight, and Julia Dooriliager's got
home."
"Vot wass Bill fightding apoudt?"
"Oh, drunk-fighting for exercise. Hain't got a fresh pie cut?"
Her face lighted up, and she turned so suddenly to go that her bare
leg showed below her dress. Her unstockinged feet were thrust
into coarse working shoes. Claude wrinkled his nose in disgust, but
he took the piece of green currant pie on the palm of his hand and
bit the acute angle from it.
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