and ate the eggs and puppies. We felt sorry for the owls. It was always
mournful to see them come flying home at sunset and disappear under the
earth. But, after all, we felt, winged things who would live like that
must be rather degraded creatures. The dog-town was a long way from any
pond or creek. Otto Fuchs said he had seen populous dog-towns in the
desert where there was no surface water for fifty miles; he insisted that
some of the holes must go down to water--nearly two hundred feet,
hereabouts. Antonia said she didn't believe it; that the dogs probably
lapped up the dew in the early morning, like the rabbits.

Antonia had opinions about everything, and she was soon able to make them
known. Almost every day she came running across the prairie to have her
reading lesson with me. Mrs. Shimerda grumbled, but realized it was
important that one member of the family should learn English. When the
lesson was over, we used to go up to the watermelon patch behind the
garden. I split the melons with an old corn-knife, and we lifted out the
hearts and ate them with the juice trickling through our fingers. The
white Christmas melons we did not touch, but we watched them with
curiosity. They were to be picked late, when the hard frosts had set in,
and put away for winter use. After weeks on the ocean, the Shimerdas were
famished for fruit. The two girls would wander for miles along the edge of
the cornfields, hunting for ground-cherries.

Antonia loved to help grandmother in the kitchen and to learn about cooking
and housekeeping. She would stand beside her, watching her every movement.
We were willing to believe that Mrs. Shimerda was a good housewife in her
own country, but she managed poorly under new conditions: the conditions
were bad enough, certainly!

I remember how horrified we were at the sour, ashy-grey bread she gave her