1 Antonia heated the water for him.
2 So few folks does know how to make a good tight box that'll turn water.
3 Two Swedes had fell out of that bucket once, and hit the water, feet down.
4 I ran out and met her as she brought her horses up to the windmill to water them.
5 As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea.
6 Peter shuffled to his feet, caught up the teakettle and mixed him some hot water and whiskey.
7 The bucket travelled across a box canon three hundred feet deep, and about a third full of water.
8 They did not take the path around the pond, but plunged through the muddy water, without even lifting their skirts.
9 Going out through the tunnel, I gave the hens their corn, emptied the ice from their drinking-pan, and filled it with water.
10 She heard our wagon, looked back over her shoulder, and, catching up her pail of water, started at a run for the hole in the bank.
11 I resumed all my chores, carried in the cobs and wood and water, and spent the afternoons at the barn, watching Jake shell corn with a hand-sheller.
12 While the horses drew in the water, and nosed each other, and then drank again, Antonia sat down on the windmill step and rested her head on her hand.
13 Once when he sat down to chat, he told us that in the immigrant car ahead there was a family from 'across the water' whose destination was the same as ours.
14 The stove was very large, with bright nickel trimmings, and behind it there was a long wooden bench against the wall, and a tin washtub, into which grandmother poured hot and cold water.
15 THE WEEK FOLLOWING Christmas brought in a thaw, and by New Year's Day all the world about us was a broth of grey slush, and the guttered slope between the windmill and the barn was running black water.
16 I used to wonder, when they came in tired from the fields, their feet numb and their hands cracked and sore, how they could do all the chores so conscientiously: feed and water and bed the horses, milk the cows, and look after the pigs.
17 Half the sky was chequered with black thunderheads, but all the west was luminous and clear: in the lightning flashes it looked like deep blue water, with the sheen of moonlight on it; and the mottled part of the sky was like marble pavement, like the quay of some splendid seacoast city, doomed to destruction.
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