Then seeing her concern, soothed it. "No, not now, Anna. You are a tempting little mess, so just leave it. And you are not fat and you are not the best cook and you are not the best gardener, but I do not care, Anna. I want you just as you are."
"All right, Karl," she said, looping her arms about his neck. "I promise I won't ever change."
"Good," he said.
"But, Karl?"
"Ya?"
"If you're going to the trouble of teaching me to read and write this winter, you might as well teach me in both languages, right off the bat."
He could only laugh and kiss her again, saying, "Oh, Anna, you are something."
* * *
When the night sounds were hushed and even the nocturnal creatures seemed abed, Anna and Karl joined them.
"Put the latchstring out for the boy, Anna," Karl said, while he lifted the heavy buffalo robe and took it to their rope bed in the corner.
Anna opened the door and stood gazing out at the night for a moment. "Karl, I really never felt what you did about this place and all its plenty until I thought I had lost you. But I know now. I really know."
"Come to bed, Anna."
She smiled over her shoulder, then closed the door and padded across the newly hewn boards of the floor to the candlelight at their bedside.
Karl stood waiting there for her.
And in the center of the bed, between their two pillows, lay a single shaft of sweet clover, plucked from the bouquet that had graced their dinner table, where lingonberry jam now dried on two forgotten plates.
THE END