Sophie's traveled all the way from Germany to marry a wealthy older man. She's scared and alone, but her sisters and mother are depending upon her...
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...To Sophie, Karl was polite, but little more. He hardly spoke more than a sentence or two to her during the meals that she and Divine worked so hard to make.
Dull, grim Americans! Sophie watched them eat, the line of elbows rowed up on the table. Here they have plenty to eat and they do it like pigs swilling at a trough, not a word to say.
"Could you please pass them biscuits, Wida' Wildbach?" asked one of the hands, breaking in on her reverie.
Sophie passed the wicker basket. Karl kept his eyes on his plate, although at least he did not use his knife like a trowel as the others did.
Once upon a time, someone taught him manners...
"Nothin' like Mrs. D's biscuits." Karl said.
"Mrs. D, nothin'." Divine had been waiting for just such an opening. "Why, Miz Sophie made these, while I was cuttin' de slaw."
The shoveling ceased and a line of faces, all ruminating like cattle, solemnly regarded Sophie.
"Well, they sure fooled me." Karl became a bit redder in the face than he already was. Yesterday he'd been out all day, up to a place called Big Spring, to look at the wheat.
"Yes, sir. This year I may get early to preservin', now that I kin hand off them darned beaten biscuits to someone else."
Dishes of potatoes, green beans and bacon were annihilated. More was called for and scooped out of seemingly bottomless pots on the stove...
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