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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...
and
