fferent towns along his run.

"The first thing that troubled her was when he wrote that his run had been
changed, and they would likely have to live in Denver. 'I'm a country
girl,' she said, 'and I doubt if I'll be able to manage so well for him in
a city. I was counting on keeping chickens, and maybe a cow.' She soon
cheered up, though.

"At last she got the letter telling her when to come. She was shaken by
it; she broke the seal and read it in this room. I suspected then that
she'd begun to get faint-hearted, waiting; though she'd never let me see
it.

"Then there was a great time of packing. It was in March, if I remember
rightly, and a terrible muddy, raw spell, with the roads bad for hauling
her things to town. And here let me say, Ambrosch did the right thing. He
went to Black Hawk and bought her a set of plated silver in a purple
velvet box, good enough for her station. He gave her three hundred dollars
in money; I saw the check. He'd collected her wages all those first years
she worked out, and it was but right. I shook him by the hand in this
room. 'You're behaving like a man, Ambrosch,' I said, 'and I'm glad to see
it, son.'

"'T was a cold, raw day he drove her and her three trunks into Black Hawk
to take the night train for Denver--the boxes had been shipped before. He
stopped the wagon here, and she ran in to tell me good-bye. She threw her
arms around me and kissed me, and thanked me for all I'd done for her. She
was so happy she was crying and laughing at the same time, and her red
cheeks was all wet with rain.

"'You're surely handsome enough for any man,' I said, looking her over.

"She laughed kind of flighty like, and whispered, 'Good-bye, dear house!'
and then ran out to the wagon. I expect she meant that for you and your
grandmother, as much as for me, so I'm particular to tell you. This house
had always been a refuge to her.

"Well, in a few days we had a letter saying she got to Denver safe, and he
was there to meet her. They were to be married in a few days. He was
trying to get his promotion before he married, she said. I did n't like
that, but I said nothing. The next week Yulka got a postal card, saying
she was 'well and happy.' After that we heard nothing. A month went by,
and old Mrs. Shimerda began to get fretful. Ambrosch was as sulky with me
as if I'd picked out the man and arranged the match.

"One night brother William came in and said that on his way back from the
fields he