Full text: The little review (8 (1922), 2)

only because she was part of the old country, but no one else 
ever spoke to her. No one but Dorothea longed back to the 
old country the way she did, no one but Dorothea had refused 
to learn one word of english. 
Karen cried a little every Sunday after she had been to 
church. She cried because she had worked like a man, like a 
slave, ever since she had come to America...to save enough 
money to go back. It had all become empty.. .there was no 
one in the old country like Dorothea. She could not go now. 
She would miss Dorothea too much, miss the lace cap, the 
black dress, the silver scentbottle.. .women’s things. 
Karen couldn’t remember when she had gone out to work. 
She had never had a woman’s dress—old coats of men and 
trousers and work things. Work is all she had ever known. 
She had come to America to work as farmhand for some old 
people. They were both dead now. She had taken the farm 
over on shares and worked it alone. She had cattle and well- 
mended fences, she had even saved a little money, but she was 
always working, always alone. There was something about 
her that made people shun her. She stayed on because of 
Dorothea. Hypnotised. She loved every thing that belonged 
to Dorothea: her daughters that came sometimes from the city 
. .. . splendid proud women who laughed like strong young 
men. They were like their father, not brooding like the gentle 
Dorothea, but they were handsome and wore beautiful clothes. 
Karen was full of wonder that they and Dorothea and she were 
all women. 
It grew cold and dusk in the barn. Karen stamped and beat 
her arms across her chest, but she would not leave her place. .. . 
. .Horses across the wooden bridge of the creek: horses and a 
carriage from the livery in the village below. Two women in 
the back seat, young, city women...feathers.. .ja ja! The 
horses stopped at the top of the hill, some talk with the driver, 
then the two leapt down—with one movement through the 
whole body, like fish...and proudly like horses they went in 
to the dead Dorothea. 
Karen closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the 
barn door for a long time, long after the horses had recrossed

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