[Illustration: She still felt the wonder of being rescued from thefire. ]

AMANDA

A DAUGHTER OF THE MENNONITES

BY

ANNA BALMER MYERS

ILLUSTRATED BYHELEN MASON GROSS

_To My Sister_

CONTENTS

 I. "WHILE THE HEART BEATS YOUNG" II. THE SNITZING PARTY III. BOILING APPLE BUTTER IV. A VISIT TO MARTIN'S MOTHER V. AT AUNT REBECCA'S HOUSE VI. SCHOOL DAYS VII. AMANDA REIST, TEACHER VIII. THE SPELLING BEE IX. AT THE MARKET X. PINK MOCCASINS XI. THE BOARDER XII. UNHAPPY DAYS XIII. THE TROUBLE MAKER XIV. THE COUNTY SUPERINTENDENT'S VISIT XV. "MARTIN'S GIRL" XVI. AUNT REBECCA'S WILL XVII. MARTIN'S DARK HOURXVIII. THE COMFORTER XIX. VINDICATION XX. DINNER AT LANDIS'S XXI. BERRYING XXII. ON THE MOUNTAIN TOPXXIII. TESTS XXIV. "YOU SAVED THE WRONG ONE" XXV. THE HEART OF MILLIE XXVI. "ONE HEART MADE O'TWO"

ILLUSTRATIONS

She Still Felt the Wonder of Being Rescued From the FireThe Rhubarb Leaf Parasol"What Did Lyman Tell You? I Must Know"

CHAPTER I

"WHILE THE HEART BEATS YOUNG"

The scorching heat of a midsummer day beat mercilessly upon the earth. Travelers on the dusty roads, toilers in the fields, and others exposedto the rays of the sun, thought yearningly of cooling winds and runningstreams. They would have looked with envy upon the scene being enactedin one of the small streams of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. There alittle red-haired girl, barefooted, her short gingham skirt tucked upunevenly here and there, was wading in the cool, shallow waters of acreek that was tree-bordered and willow-arched. Her clear, ripplinglaughter of sheer joy broke through the Sabbatical calm of that quietspot and echoed up and down the meadow as she splashed about in thebrook. 

"Ach, " she said aloud, "this here's the best fun! Abody wouldn't hardlyknow it's so powerful hot out to-day. All these trees round the crickmakes it cool. I like wadin' and pickin' up the pebbles, some of 'emwashed round and smooth like little white soup beans--ach, I got towatch me, " she exclaimed, laughing, as she made a quick movement toretain her equilibrium. "The big stones are slippery from bein' in thewater. Next I know I'll sit right down in the crick. Then wouldn't Philbe ready to laugh at me! It wonders me now where he is. I wish he'dcome once and we'd have some fun. "

As if in answer to her wish a boyish whistle rang out, followed by along-drawn "Oo-oh, Manda, where are you?"

"Here. Wadin' in the crick, " she called. "Come on in. "

She splashed gleefully about as her brother came into sight and walkedwith mock dignity through the meadow to the stream. He held his red-crowned head high and sang teasingly, "Manda, Manda, red-headed Manda;tee-legged, toe-legged, bow-legged Manda!"

"Philip Reist, " she shouted crossly, "I am not! My legs arestraighter'n yours! You dare, you just dare once, to come in the crickand say that and see what you get!"

Although two years her junior he accepted the challenge and repeatedthe doggerel as he planted his bare feet in the water. She splashed himand he retaliated, but the boy, though smaller, was agile, and in anunguarded moment he caught the girl by the wrists and pushed her so shesat squarely in the shallow waters of the brook. 

"Hey, smarty, " he exulted impishly as he held her there, "you will getfresh with me, you will, huh?"

"Phil, let me up, leave me go, I'm all wet. "

"Now, how did that happen, I wonder. My goodness, what will Mamma say?"he teased. 

"Phil, " the girl half coaxed, but he read a desire for revenge in herface. 

"Jiminy Christmas, don't cry. " He puckered up his lips in imitation ofa whimpering girl. "Got enough?"

"Phil, " the word rang crossly, "you let me be now. "

"All right, cry baby. " He loosened his hold on her wrists. "But becauseyou're such a fraid cat I'll not give you what I brought for you. "

"What is it?" The girl scrambled to her feet, curiosity helping her toforget momentarily the boy's tricks. "What did you bring me?"

"Something that's little and almost round and blue and I got it in atree. Now if you're not a blockhead mebbe you can guess what it is. "He moved his hand about in his pocket. 

"Phil, let me see. " The words were plain coaxing then. 

"Here. " And he drew from his pocket a robin's egg. 

"Philip Reist! Where did you get that?" The girl's voice was stern andloud. 

"Ach, I found the dandiest nest out on one of the cherry trees and Iknow you like dinky birds and thought I'd get you an egg. There's threemore in the nest; I guess that's enough for any robin. Anyhow, they hadyoung ones in that nest early in the summer. "

"You bad boy! How dare you rob a bird's nest? God will punish you forthat!" Her eyes blazed with wrath at the thoughtless deed of the lad. 

"Ach, " he answered boldly, "what's the use fussin' 'bout a dinky bird'segg? You make me sick, Manda. Cry about it now! Oh, the poor littlebirdie lost its egg, " he whined in falsetto voice. 

"You--you--I guess I won't wait for God to punish you, Philip Reist. "With the words she grabbed and sat him in the water. "You needsomething _right now_ to make you remember not to take eggs fromnests. And here it is! When you want to do it after this just think ofthe day I sat you down in the crick. I'm goin' to tell Mom on you, too, that's what I am. "

"Yea, tattle-tale, girls are all tattle-tales!"

He struggled to escape but the hold of his sister was vise-like. 

"Will you leave nests alone?" she demanded. 

"Ah, who wants to steal eggs? I just brought you one 'cause I thoughtyou'd like it. "

"Well, I don't. So let the eggs where they belong, " she said as sherelaxed her clasp and he rose. 

"Now look at us, " he began, then the funny spectacle of wet clothessent each laughing. 

"Gee, " he said, "won't we get Sam Hill from Mom?"

"What's Sam Hill?" she asked. "And where do you learn such awful slang?Abody can hardly understand you half the time. Mom says you should stopit. "

"Yea, that reminds me, Manda, what I come for. Mom said you're to comein and get your dresses tried on. And mebbe you'd like to know thatAunt Rebecca's here again. She just come and is helpin' to sew and ifshe sees our clothes wet--oh, yea!"

"Oh yea, " echoed Amanda with the innocent candor of a twelve-year-old. "Aunt Rebecca--is she here again? Ach, if she wasn't so cranky I'd beglad still when she comes, but you know how she acts all the time. "

"Um-uh. Uncle Amos says still she's prickly like a chestnut burr. Jiminy crickets, she's worse'n any burr I ever seen!"

"Well, " the girl said thoughtfully, "but chestnut burrs are like velvetinside. Mebbe she'd be nice inside if only abody had the dare to findout. "

"Ach, come on, " urged the boy, impatient at the girl's philosophy. "Momwants you to fit. Come on, get pins stuck in you and then I'll laugh. Gee, I'm glad I'm not a girl! Fittin' dresses on a day like this--whew!"

"Well, " she tossed her red head proudly, "I'm glad I'm one!" A suddenthought came to her--"Come in, Phil, while I fit and then we'll set inthe kitchen and count how often Aunt Rebecca says, My goodness. "

"Um-uh, " he agreed readily, "come on, Manda. That'll be peachy. "

The children laughed in anticipation of a good time as they ran throughthe hot sun of the pasture lot, up the narrow path along the cornfieldfence and into the back yard of their home. 

The Reist farm with its fine orchards and great fields of grain wasmanifestly the home of prosperous, industrious farmers. From its biggardens were gathered choice vegetables to be sold in the famousmarkets of Lancaster, five miles distant. The farmhouse, a big squarebrick building of old-fashioned design, was located upon a slightelevation and commanded from its wide front porch a panoramic view of alarge section of the beautiful Garden Spot of America. 

The household consisted of Mrs. Reist, a widow, her two children, herbrother Amos Rohrer, who was responsible for the success of the farm, and a hired girl, Millie Hess, who had served the household so long andfaithfully that she seemed an integral part of the family. 

Mrs. Reist was a sweet-faced, frail little woman, a member of theMennonite Church. She wore the plain garb adopted by the women of thatsect--the tight-fitting waist covered by a pointed shoulder cape, thefull skirt and the white cap upon smoothly combed, parted hair. Herred-haired children were so like their father had been, that at timesher heart contracted at sight of them. His had been a strong, buoyantspirit and when her hands, like Moses' of old, had required steadying, he had never failed her. At first his death left her helpless anddiscouraged as she faced the task of rearing without his help the twoyoung children, children about whom they had dreamed great dreams andfor whom they had planned wonderful things. But gradually the widowedmother developed new courage, and though frail in body grew brave inspirit and faced cheerfully the rearing of Amanda and Philip. 

The children had inherited the father's strength, his happycheerfulness, his quick-to-anger and quicker-to-repent propensity, butthe mother's gentleness also dwelt in them. Laughing, merry, they sangtheir way through the days, protesting vehemently when things wentcontrary to their desires, but laughing the next moment in theirresponsible manner of youth the world over. That August day thepromise of fun at Aunt Rebecca's expense quite compensated for theunpleasantness of her visit. 

Aunt Rebecca Miller was an elder sister to Mrs. Reist, so said theinscription in the big family Bible. But it was difficult to understandhow the two women could have been mothered by one person. 

Millie, the hired girl, expressed her opinion freely to Amanda one dayafter a particularly trying time with the old woman. "How that RebeccaMiller can be your mom's sister now beats me. She's more like a waspthan anything I ever seen without wings. It's sting, sting all the timewith her; nothin' anybody does or says is just right. She'sfaultfindin' every time she comes. It wonders me sometimes if she'lllike heaven when she gets up there, or if she'll see some things she'dchange if she had her way. And mostly all the plain people are so nicethat abody's got to like 'em, but she's not like the others, I guess. Most every time she comes she makes me mad. She's too bossy. Why, to-day when I was fryin' doughnuts she bothered me so that I justwished the fat would spritz her good once and she'd go and leave me be. "

It will be seen that Millie felt free to voice her opinions at alltimes in the Reist family. She was a plain-faced, stout little woman ofthirty-five, a product of the Pennsylvania Dutch country. Orphaned atan early age she had been buffeted about sorely until the happy day sheentered the Reist household. Their kindness to her won her heart andshe repaid them by a staunch devotion. The Reist joys, sorrows, perplexities and anxieties were shared by her and she naturally came infor a portion of Aunt Rebecca's faultfinding. 

Cross-grained and trying, Rebecca Miller was unlike the majority of theplain, unpretentious people of that rural community. In all her yearsshe had failed to appreciate the futility of fuss, the sin of uselessworry, and had never learned the invaluable lesson of minding her ownbusiness. "She means well, " Mrs. Reist said in conciliatory tones whenUncle Amos or the children resented the interference of the dictatorialrelative, but secretly she wondered how Rebecca could be so--so--shenever finished the sentence. 

"Well, my goodness, here she comes once!" Amanda heard her aunt'srasping voice as they entered the house. 

Stifling an "Oh yea" the girl walked into the sitting-room. 

"Hello, Aunt Rebecca, " she said dutifully, then turned to her mother--"You want me?"

"My goodness, your dress is all wet in the back!" Aunt Rebecca saidshrilly. "What in the world did you do?"

Before she could reply Philip turned about so his wet clothes were onview. "And you too!" cried the visitor. "My goodness, what was you twoup to? Such wet blotches like you got!" "We were wadin' in the crick, "Amanda said demurely, as her mother smoothed the tousled red hair backfrom the flushed forehead. 

"My goodness! Wadin' in the crick in dog days!" exploded Aunt Rebecca. 

"Now for that she'll turn into a doggie, ain't, Mom?" said the boyroguishly. 

Aunt Rebecca looked over her steel-rimmed spectacles at the twochildren who were bubbling over with laughter. "I think, " she saidsternly, "people don't learn children no manners no more. "

"Ach, " the mother said soothingly, "you mustn't mind them. They get sofull of laughin' even when we don't see what's to laugh at. "

"Yes, " put in Amanda, "the Bible says it's good to have a merry heartand me and Phil's got one. You like us that way, don't you, Mom?"

 "Yes, " the mother agreed. "Now you go put on dry things, then I wantto fit your dresses. And, Philip, are you wet through?"

"Naw. These thick pants don't get wet through if I rutch in water anhour. Jiminy pats, Mom, girls are delicate, can't stand a littlewettin'. "

"You just wait, Phil, " Amanda called to him as she ran up-stairs, "you're gettin' some good wettin' yet. I ain't done with you. "

"Cracky, who's afraid?" he called. 

A little later the girl appeared in dry clothes. 

"Ach, " she said, "I forgot to wash my hands. I better go out to thepump and clean 'em so I don't get my new dresses dirty right aways. "

She ran to the pump on the side porch and jerked the handle up anddown, while her brother followed and watched her, defiance in his eyes. 

"Well, " she said suddenly, "if you want it I'll give it to you now. "With that she caught him and soused his head in the tin basin thatstood in the trough. "One for duckin' me in the crick, and another forstealin' that bird's egg, and a third to learn you some sense. " Beforehe could get his breath she had run into the house and stood before hermother ready for the fitting. "I like this goods, Mom, " she told themother as the new dress was slipped over her head. "I think the browngoes good with my red hair, and the blue gingham is pretty, too. Onlydon't never buy me no pink nor red. "

"I won't. Not unless your hair turns brown. "

"My goodness, but you spoil her, " came the unsolicited opinion of AuntRebecca. "When I was little I wore what my mom bought me, and so didyou. We would never thought of sayin', 'Don't get me this or that. '"

"But with red hair it's different. And as long as blue and brown andcolors Amanda likes don't cost more than those she don't want I can'tsee why she shouldn't have what she wants. "

"Well, abody wonders what kind o' children plain people expect to raisenowadays with such caterin' to their vanity. "

Mrs. Reist bit her lips and refrained from answering. The expression ofjoy on the face of Amanda as she looked down at her new dress took awaythe sting of the older woman's words. "I want, " the mother said softly, "I want my children to have a happy childhood. It belongs to them. AndI want them to remember me for a kind mom. "

"Ach, Mom, you _are_ a good mom. " Amanda leaned over the mother, who was pinning the hem in the new dress, and pressed a kiss on the topof the white-capped head. "When I grow up I want to be like you. Andwhen I'm big and you're old, won't you be the nicest granny!"

Aunt Rebecca suddenly looked sad and meek. Perhaps a partialappreciation of what she missed by being childless came to her. Whatthrills she might have known if happy children ran to her with shoutsof "Granny!" But she did not carry the thread of thought far enough toanalyze her own actions and discover that, though childless, she couldattract the love of other people's children if she chose. The tendermoment was fleet. She looked at Amanda and Philip and saw in them onlytwo children prone to evil, requiring stern disciplining. 

"Now don't go far from the house, " said Mrs. Reist later, "for yourother dress is soon ready to fit. As soon as Aunt Rebecca gets thepleats basted in the skirt. "

"I'll soon get them in. But it's foolishness to go to all that botherwhen gathers would do just as good and go faster. "

Amanda turned away and a moment later she and Phil were seated on thelong wooden settee in the kitchen. The boy had silently agreed to atemporary truce so that the game of counting might be played. He wouldpay back his sister some other time. Gee, it was easy to get her goat--just a little thing like a caterpillar dropped down her neck would makeher holler!

"Gee, Manda, I thought of a bully thing!" the boy whispered. "If thatold crosspatch Rebecca says 'My goodness' thirty times till fouro'clock I'll fetch a tobacco worm and put it in her bonnet. If shedon't say it that often you got to put one in. Huh? Manda, ain't that apeachy game to play?"

"All right, " agreed the girl. "I'll get paper and pencil to keepcount. " She slipped into the other room and in a few minutes the twosettled themselves on the settee, their ears straining to hear everyword spoken by the women in the next room. 

"My goodness, this thread breaks easy! They don't make nothin' no morelike they used to, " came through the open door. 

"That's one, " said Phil; "make a stroke on the paper. Jiminy Christmas, that's easy! Bet you we get that paper full of strokes!"

"My goodness, that girl's shootin' up! It wouldn't wonder me if you gotto leave these dresses down till time for school. Now if I was you I'dmake them plenty big and let her grow into 'em. Our mom always donethat. "

And so the conversation went on until there were twenty lines on thepaper. The game was growing exciting and, under the stress of it, thecounting on the old settee rose above the discreet whisper it wasoriginally meant to be. "Twenty-one!" cried Amanda. Aunt Rebecca walkedto the door. 

"What's you two up to?" she asked. "Oh, you got the hymn-book. Mygoodness, what for you writin' on the hymn-book?" She turned to hersister. "Ain't you goin' to make 'em stop that? A hymn-book ain't to bewrote on!"

"Twenty-two, " cried Phil, secure in the knowledge that his mother wouldnot object to their use of the book and safely confident that the auntcould not dream what they were doing. 

"What is twenty-two? Look once, Amanda, " said the woman, taking themention of the number to refer to a hymn. 

The girl opened the book. "Beulah Land, " she read, a sudden compunctionseizing her. 

"Ach, yes, Beulah Land--I sang that when I was a girl still. Mygoodness, abody gets old quick. " She sighed and returned to her sewing. 

"Twenty-three, countin' the last one, " prompted Phil. "Mark it down. Gee, it's a cinch. "

But Amanda looked sober. "Phil, mebbe it ain't right to make fun of herso and count after how often she says the same thing. She looked kindateary when she said that about gettin' old quick. "

"Ach, go on, " said Philip, too young to appreciate the subtle shades offeelings or looks. "You can't back out of it now. Gee, what's bitin'you? It ain't four o'clock yet, and it ain't right, neither, to go backon a promise. Anyhow, if we don't go on and count up to thirty you gotto put the worm in her bonnet--you said you would--girls are no good, they get cold feet. "

Thus spurred, Amanda resumed the game until the coveted thirty lineswere marked on the paper. Then, the goal reached, it was Phil's duty tofind a tobacco worm. 

Supper at the Reist farmhouse was an ample meal. By that time thehardest portion of the day's labor was completed and the relaxationfrom physical toil made the meal doubly enjoyable. Millie saw to itthat there was always appetizing food set upon the big square table inthe kitchen. Two open doors and three screened windows looking out upongreen fields and orchards made the kitchen a cool refuge that hotAugust day. 

Uncle Amos, a fat, flushed little man, upon whose shoulders rested theresponsibilities of that big farm, sat at the head of the table. Histired figure sagged somewhat, but his tanned face shone from a vigorousscrubbing. Millie sat beside Mrs. Reist, for she was, as she expressedit, "Nobody's dog, to eat alone. " She expected to eat with the folkswhere she hired. However, her presence at the table did not prevent herfrom waiting on the others. She made frequent trips to the other sideof the big kitchen to replenish any of the depleted dishes. 

That evening Amanda and Philip were restless. 

"What ails you two?" demanded Millie. "Bet you're up to some tricksagain, by the gigglin' of you and the rutchin' around you're doin'! Ijust bet you're up to something, " she grumbled, but her eyes twinkled. 

"Nothin' ails us, " declared Phil. "We just feel like laughin'. "

"Ach, " said Aunt Rebecca, "this dumb laughin' is all for nothin'. Anyhow, you better not laugh too much, for you got to cry as much asyou laugh before you die. "

"Then I'll have to cry oceans!" Amanda admitted. "There'll be anotherNiagara Falls, right here in Lancaster County, I'm thinkin'. "

"Ach, " said Millie, "that's just another of them old superstitions. "

"Yes, " Aunt Rebecca said solemnly, "nobody believes them no more. Butit's a lot of truth in 'em just the same. I often took notice that ashigh as the spiders build their webs in August so high will the snow bethat winter. Nowadays people don't study the almanac or look for signs. Young ones is by far too smart. The farmers plant their seeds any timenow, beans and peas in the Posey Woman sign and then they wonder whythey get only flowers 'stead of peas and beans. They take up red beetsin the wrong sign and wonder why the beets cook up stringy. The womenmake sauerkraut in Gallas week and wonder why it's bitter. I could tellthem what's the matter! There's more to them old women's signs thanmost people know. I never yet heard a dog cry at night that I didn'thear of some one I know dyin' soon after. I wouldn't open an umbrellain the house for ten dollars--it's bad luck--yes, you laugh, " she saidaccusingly to Philip. "But you got lots to learn yet. My goodness, whenI think of all I learned since I was as old as you! Of all the newthings in the world! I guess till you're as old as I am there'll belots more. "

"Sure Mike, " said the boy, rather flippantly. "What's all new since youwas little?" he asked his aunt. 

"Telephone, them talkin' machines, sewin' machines--anyhow, they weremighty scarce then--trolleys----"

"Automobiles?"

"My goodness, yes! Them awful things! They scare the life out abody. Idon't go in none and I don't want no automobile hearse to haul me, neither. I'd be afraid it'd run off. "

"Great horn spoon, Aunt Rebecca, but that would be a gay ride, " the boysaid, while Amanda giggled and Uncle Amos winked to Millie, who made ahurried trip to the stove for coffee. 

"Ach, " came the aunt's rebuke. "You talk too much of that slang stuff. I guess I'll take the next trolley home, " she said, unconscious of themerriment she had caused. "I'd like to help with the dishes, but I wantto get home before it gets so late for me. Anyhow, Amanda is big enoughto help. When I was big as her I cooked and baked and worked like awoman. Why, when I was just a little thing, Mom'd tell me to go in thefront room and pick the snipples off the floor and I'd get down and doit. Nobody does that now, neither. They run a sweeper over the carpetsand wear 'em out. "

"But the floors are full of germs, " said Amanda. 

"Cherms--what are them?"

"Why, dreadful things! I learned about them at school. They are little, crawly bugs with a lot of legs, and if you eat them or breathe them inyou'll get scarlet fever or diphtheria. "

"Ach, that's too dumb!" Aunt Rebecca was unimpressed. "I don't believein no such things. " With that emphatic remark she stalked to thesitting-room for her bonnet. She met Phil coming out, his hands in hispockets. He paused in the doorway as Amanda and her mother joined theguest. 

Aunt Rebecca lifted the black silk bonnet carefully from the littletable and Amanda shifted nervously from one foot to the other. If onlyAunt Rebecca wouldn't hold the bonnet so the worm would fall to thefloor! Then the woman gave the stiff headgear a dexterous turn and thesquirming thing landed on her head. 

"My goodness! My goodness!" she cried as something soft brushed hercheek. Intently inquisitive, she stooped and picked from the floor afat, green, wriggling tobacco worm. 

"One of them cherms, I guess, Amanda, ain't?" she said as she lookedkeenly at the child. 

Amanda blushed and was silent. Philip was unable to hide his guilt. "Now, when did tobacco worms learn to live in bonnets?" she asked theboy as she eyed him reproachfully. 

Mrs. Reist looked hurt. Her gentle reproof, "Children, I'm ashamed ofyou!" cut deeper with Amanda than the scolding of Aunt Rebecca--"You'rea bad pair! Almost you spoiled me my good bonnet. If I'd squeezed thatworm on my cap it would have ruined it! My goodness, you both need agood spankin', that's what. Too bad you ain't got a pop to learn you!"

"It was only for fun, Aunt Rebecca, " said Amanda, truly ashamed. ButPhil put his hand over his mouth to hide a grin. 

"Fun--what for fun is that--to be so disrespectful to an old aunt? Andyou, Philip, ain't one bit ashamed. Your mom just ought to make youhunt all the worms in the whole tobacco patch. My goodness, look atthat clock! Next with this dumb foolin' I'll miss that trolley yet. Imust hurry myself now. "

"I'm sorry, Aunt Rebecca, " Amanda said softly, eager to make peace withthe woman, whom she knew to be kind, though a bit severe. 

"Ach, I don't hold no spite. But I think it's high time you learn tobehave. Such a big girl like you ought to help her brother be good, notlearn him tricks. Boys go to the bad soon enough. I'm goin' now, " sheaddressed Mrs. Reist, "and you let me know when you boil apple butterand I'll come and help stir. "

"All right, Rebecca. I hope the children will behave and not cut uplike to-day. You are always so ready to help us--I can't understand whythey did such a thing. I'm ashamed. "

"Ach, it's all right, long as my bonnet ain't spoiled. If that hadhappened then there'd be a different kind o' bird pipin'. "

After she left Philip proceeded to do a Comanche Indian dance--in whichAmanda joined by being pulled around the room by her dress skirt--inundisguised hilarity over the departure of their grim relative. Boyshave little understanding of the older person who suppresses theiranimal energy and skylarking happiness. 

"I ain't had so much fun since Adam was a boy, " Philip admitted withpretended seriousness, while the family smiled at his drollness. 

CHAPTER II

THE SNITZING PARTY

Apple-butter boiling on the Reist farm occurred frequently duringAugust and September. The choice fruit of the orchard was sold atLancaster market, but bushels of smaller, imperfect apples layscattered about the ground, and these were salvaged for the fragrantand luscious apple butter. To Phil and Amanda fell the task ofgathering the fruit from the grass, washing them in big wooden tubsnear the pump and placing them in bags. Then Uncle Amos hauled theapples to the cider press, where they came forth like liquid amber thatdripped into fat brown barrels. 

Many pecks of pared fruit were required for the apple-butter boiling. These were pared--the Pennsylvania Dutch say snitzed--the night beforethe day of boiling. 

"Mom, " Amanda told her mother as they ate supper one night when manyapples were to be pared for the next day's use, "Lyman Mertzheimer seenus pick apples to-day and he said he's comin' over to-night to thesnitzin' party--d'you care?"

"No. Let him come. "

"So, " teased Uncle Amos. "Guess in a few years, Manda, you'll be havin'beaus. This Lyman Mertzheimer, now, --his pop's the richest farmer roundhere and Lyman's the only child. He'd be a good catch, mebbe. "

"Ach, " Amanda said in her quick way, "I ain't thinkin' of such things. Anyhow, I don't like Lyman so good. He's all the time braggin' abouthis pop's money and how much his mom pays for things, and at school hedon't play fair at recess. Sometimes, too, he cheats in school when wehave a spellin' match Friday afternoons. Then he traps head and thinkshe's smart. "

Uncle Amos nodded his head. "Chip o' the old block. "

"Now, look here, " chided Millie, "ain't you ashamed, Amos, to put suchnotions in a little girl's head, about beaus and such things?"

The man chuckled. "What's born in heads don't need to be put in. "

Amanda wondered what he meant, but her mother and Millie laughed. 

"Women's women, " he added knowingly. "Some wakes up sooner than others, that's all! Millie, when you goin' to get you a man? You're gettin'along now--just about my age, so I know--abody that cooks like you do--"

"Amos, you just keep quiet! I ain't lookin' for a man. I got a home, and if I want something to growl at me I'll go pull the dog's tail. "

That evening the kitchen of the Reist farmhouse was a busy place. Baskets of apples stood on the floor. On the table were huge earthendishes ready for the pared fruit. Equipped with a paring knife and atin pie-plate for parings every member of the household drew near thetable and began snitzing. There was much merry conversation, some inquaint Pennsylvania Dutch, then again in English tinged with thedistinctive accent. There was also much laughter as Uncle Amos viedwith Millie for the honor of making the thinnest parings. 

"Here comes Lyman. Make place for him, " cried Amanda as a boy offifteen came to the kitchen door. 

"You can't come in here unless you work, " challenged Uncle Amos. 

"I can do that, " said the boy, though he seemed none too eager to takethe knife and plate Mrs. Reist offered him. 

"You dare sit beside me, " Amanda offered. 

Lyman smiled his appreciation of the honor, but the girl's eyestwinkled as she added, "so I can watch that you make thin peelin's. "

"That's it, " said Uncle Amos. "Boys, listen! Mostly always when awoman's kind to you there's something back of it. "

"Ach, Amos, you're soured, " said Millie. 

"No, not me, " he declared. "I know there's still a few good women inthe world. Ach, yea, " he sighed deeply and looked the incarnation ofmisery, "soon I'll have three to boss me, with Amanda here growin' likea weed!"

"Don't you know, " Mrs. Reist reminded him, "how Granny used to say thatone good boss is better than six poor workers? You don't appreciate us, Amos. "

"I give up. " Uncle Amos spread his hands in surrender. "I give up. Whenwomen start arguin' where's a man comin' in at?"

"I wouldn't give up, " spoke out Lyman. "A man ought to have the lastword every time. "

"Ach, you don't know women, " said Uncle Amos, chuckling. 

"A man was made to be master, " the youth went on, evidently quotingsome recent reading. "Woman is the weaker vessel. "

"Wait till you try to break one, " came Uncle Amos's wise comment. 

"I, " said Lyman proudly, "I could be master of any woman I marry! And Ibet, I dare to bet my pop's farm, that any girl I set out to get I canget, too. I'd just carry her off or something. 'All's fair in love andwar. '"

"Them two's the same thing, sonny, but you don't know it yet, " laughedUncle Amos. "It sounds mighty strong and brave to talk like you were agiant or king, or something, and I only hope I'm livin' and here inCrow Hill so I can see how you work that game of carryin' off the girlyou like. I'd like to see it, I'd sure like to see it!"

"Oh, Uncle Amos, tell us, did you ever go to see the girls?" askedAmanda eagerly. 

"Did I ever go to see the girls? Um-uh, I did!" The man laughedsuddenly. "I'll tell you about the first time. But now you just go onwith your snitzin'. I can't be breakin' up the party with my yarns. Iwas just a young fellow workin' at home on the farm. Theje was a nicegirl over near Manheim I thought I'd like to know better, and so onenight I fixed up to try my luck and go see her. It was in fall and gotdark pretty early, and by the time I was done with the farm work anddressed in my best suit and half-way over to her house, it was gettin'dusk. Now I never knew what it was to be afraid till that year my oldAunty Betz came to spend a month with us and began to tell her spookstories. She had a long list of them. One was about a big black dogthat used to come in her room every night durin' full moon and put itspaws on her bed. But when she tried to touch it there was nothingthere, and if she'd get up and light the light it would vanish. Shesaid she always thought he wanted to show her something, take her towhere there was some gold buried, but she never could get the dog to doit, for she always lighted the light and that scared him away. Then shesaid one time they moved into a little house, and once when they had alot of company she slept on a bed in the garret. She got awake at nightand found the covers off the bed. She pulled 'em up and somethingpulled them off. Then she lighted a candle, but there wasn't a thingthere. So she went back to bed and the same thing happened again; downwent the covers. She got frightened and ran down the stairs and slepton the floor. But that spook was always a mystery. I used to haveshivers chasin' each other up and down my back so fast I didn't knowhow to sit up hardly when she was tellin' them spook stories. But shehad one champion one about a man she knew who was walkin' along thecountry road at night and something black shot up in front of him, andwhen he tried to catch it and ran after it, he rolled into a fence, andwhen he sat up, the spook was gone, but there was a great big hole bythe fence-post near him, and in the hole was a box of money. She couldexplain that ghost; it was the spirit of the person who had buried themoney, and he had to help some person find it so that he could havepeace in the other world. Well, as I said, I was goin' along the roadon the way to see that girl, and it was about dark when I got to thelane of her house. I was a little excited, for it was my first trial atthe courtin' business. Aunty Betz's spook stories made me kinda shakyin the dark, so it's no wonder I jumped when something black ran acrossthe road and stood by the fence as I came along. I remembered her storyof the man who found the gold, and I thought I'd see whether I couldhave such luck, so I ran to the black thing and made a grab--and--itwas a skunk! Well, "--after the laughter died down--"I didn't get anygold, but I got something! I yelled, and the girl I started to call onheard me and come to the door. I hadn't any better sense than to go upto her. But before I could explain, the skunk's weapon told the tale. 'You clear out of here, ' she hollered; 'who wants such a smell in thehouse!' I cleared out, and when I got home Mom was in bed, but Pop wasreadin' the paper in the kitchen. I opened the door. 'Clear out ofhere, ' he ordered;' who wants such a smell in the house! Go to thewood-shed and I'll get you soap and water and other clothes. ' So I wentto the wood-shed, and he came out with a lantern and water and clothesand I began to scrub. After I was dressed we went to the barn-yard andhe held the lantern while I dug a deep hole, and the clothes, my bestSunday clothes, went down into the ground and dirt on top. And thatsettled courtin' for a while with me. "

Uncle Amos's story _had_ interfered with the snitzing. 

"Say, " said Millie, "how can abody snitz apples when you make 'em laughtill the tears run down over the face?"

"Oh, come on, " cried Amanda, "I just thought of it--let's tell fortuneswith the peelin's! Everybody peel an apple with the peelin' all in onepiece and then throw it over the right shoulder, and whatever letter itmakes on the floor is the initial of the person you're goin' to marry. "

"All right. Now, Millie, no cheatin', " teased Uncle Amos. "Don't you gopeel yours so it'll fall into a Z, for I know that Zach Miller's beenafter you this long while already. "

"Ach, him? He's as ugly as seven days' rainy weather. "

"Ach, shoot it, " said Phil, disgust written on his face as he threw aparing over his shoulder; "mine always come out an S. Guess that's theonly letter you can make. S for Sadie, Susie--who wants them? That's arotten way to tell fortunes!"

"Now look at mine, everybody!" cried Amanda as she flung her long appleparing over her shoulder. 

"It's an M, " shouted Phil. "Mebbe for Martin Landis. Jiminy Christmas, he's a pretty nice fellow. If you can hook him----"

"M stands for Mertzheimer, " said Lyman proudly. "I guess it means me, Amanda, so you better begin to mind me now when we play at recess atschool and spell on my side in the spelling matches. "

"Huh, " she retorted ungraciously, "Lyman Mertzheimer, you ain't theonly M in Lancaster County!"

"No, " he replied arrogantly, "but I guess that poor Mart Landis don'tcount. He's always tending one of his mom's babies--some nice beau he'dmake! If he ever goes courting he'll have to take along one of thelittle Landis kids, I bet. "

Phil laughed, but Amanda flushed in anger. "I think that's just grandof Martin to help his mom like that, " she defended. "Anyhow, since shehas no big girls to help her. "

"He washes dishes. I saw him last week with an apron on, " said Lyman, contempt in his voice. 

"Wouldn't you do that for your mom if she was poor and had a lot ofchildren and no one to help her?" asked the girl. 

"Not me! I wouldn't wash dishes for no one! Men aren't made for that. "

"Then _I_ don't think much of _you_, Lyman Mertzheimer!"declared Amanda with a vigorous toss of her red head. 

"Come, come, " Mrs. Reist interrupted, "you mustn't quarrel. Of courseLyman would help his mother if she needed him. "

Amanda laughed and friendliness was once more restored. 

When the last apple was snitzed Uncle Amos brought some cold cider fromthe spring-house, Millie fetched a dish of cookies from the cellar, andthe snitzing party ended in a feast. 

That night Mrs. Reist followed Amanda up the stairs to the child'sbedroom. They made a pretty picture as they stood there, the motherwith her plain Mennonite garb, her sweet face encircled by a white cap, and the little red-haired child, eager, active, her dark eyes glimpsingdreams as they focused on the distant castles in Spain which were apart of her legitimate heritage of childhood. The room was like aNutting picture, with its rag carpet, old-fashioned, low cherry bed, covered with a pink and white calico patchwork quilt, its low cherrybureau, its rush-bottom chairs, its big walnut chest covered with ahand-woven coverlet gay with red roses and blue tulips. An old-fashioned room and an old-fashioned mother and daughter--the elder hadseen life, knew its glories and its dangers, had tasted its sweetnessand drained its cups of sorrow, but the child--in her eyes was stillthe star-dust of the "trailing clouds of glory. "

"Mom, " she asked suddenly as her mother unbraided the red hair andbrushed it, "do you like Lyman Mertzheimer?"

"Why--yes---" Mrs. Reist hesitated. 

"Ach, I don't mean that way, Mom, " the child said wisely. "You alwayssay abody must like everybody, but I mean like him for real, like himso you want to be near him. He's good lookin'. At school he's about thebest lookin' boy there. The big girls say he's a regular Dunnis, whatever that is. But I think sometimes he ain't so pretty under thelooks, the way he acts and all, Mom. "

"I know what you mean, Amanda. Your pop used to say still that peopleare like apples, some can fool you good. Remember some we peeledto-night were specked and showed it on the outside, but some werered and pretty and when you cut in them--"

"They were full of worms or rotten!"

"Yes. It's the hearts of people that makes them beautiful. "

"I see, Mom, and I'll mind to remember that. I'm gettin' to know a loto' things now, Mom, ain't? I like when you tell me things my pop said. I'm glad I was big enough to remember him. I know yet what nice eyes hehad, like they was always smilin' at you. I wish he wouldn't died, butI'm glad he's not dead for always. People don't stay dead like peepiesor birds, do they?"

"No, they'll live again some day. " The mother's voice was low, but adivine trust shone in her eyes. "Life would be nothing if it could endfor us like it does for the birds. "

"Millie says the souls of people can't die. That it's with people justlike it's with the apple trees. In winter they look dead and like allthey're good for was to chop down and burn, then in spring they getgreen and the flowers come on them and they're alive, and we knowthey're alive. I'm glad people are like that, ain't you?"

"Yes. " She gathered the child to her arms and kissed the sensitive, eager little face. Neither Mrs. Reist nor Amanda, as yet, had readLocksley Hall, but the truth expressed there was echoing in theirsouls:

 "Gone forever! Ever? no--for since our dying race began, Ever, ever, and forever was the leading light of man. Indian warriors dream of ampler hunting grounds beyond the night; Even the black Australian dying hopes he shall return, a white. Truth for truth, and good for good! The good, the true, the pure, the just-- Take the charm 'Forever' from them, and they crumble into dust. "

"Ach, Mom, " the child asked a few moments later, "do you mind thatChristmas and the big doll?" An eager light dwelt in the little girl'seyes as she thought back to the happy time when her big, laughingfather had made one in the family circle. 

"Yes. " The mother smiled a bit sadly. But Amanda prattled on gaily. 

"That was the best Christmas ever I had! You mind how we went to marketin Lancaster, Pop and you and I, near Christmas, and in a window of astore we saw a great, grand, big doll. She was bigger'n me and hadlight hair and blue eyes. I wanted her, and I told you and Pop andcoaxed for you to buy her. Next week when we went to market and passedthe store she was still in the window. Then one day Pop went toLancaster alone and when he came home I asked if the doll was stillthere, and he said she wasn't in the window. I cried, and was sodisappointed and you said to Pop, 'That's a shame, Philip. ' And Ithought, too, it was a shame he let somebody else buy that doll when Iwanted it so. Then on Christmas morning--what do you think--I camedown-stairs and ran for my presents, and there was that same big dollsettin' on the table in the room! Millie and you had dressed her in ablue dress. Course she wasn't in the window when I asked Pop, for hehad bought her! He laughed, and we all laughed, and we had the bestChristmas. I sat on my little rocking-chair and rocked her, and thenI'd sit her on the sofa and look at her--I was that proud of her. "

"That's five, six years ago, Amanda. "

"Yes, I was _little_ then. I mind a story about that littlerockin'-chair, too, Mom. It's up in the garret now; I'm too big for it. But when I first got it I thought it was wonderful fine. Once KatieHiestand came here with her mom, and we were playin' with our dolls andnot thinkin' of the chair, and then Katie saw it and sat in it. Andright aways I wanted to set in it, too, and I made her get off. But yousaw it and you told me I must not be selfish, but must be polite andlet her set in it. My, I remember lots of things. "

"I'm glad, Amanda, if you remember such things, for I want you to growup into a nice, good woman. "

"Like you and Millie, ain't? I'm goin' to. I ain't forgot, neither, that once when I laughed at Katie for saying the Dutch word forcalendar and gettin' all her English mixed with Dutch, you told me it'snot nice to laugh at people. But I forgot it the other day, Mom, whenwe laughed at Aunt Rebecca and treated her mean. But she's so crankyand--and---"

"And she helped sew on your dresses, " added the mother. 

"Now that was ugly for us to act so! Why, ain't it funny, Mom, itsounds so easy to say abody should be kind and yet sometimes it's sohard to do it. When Aunt Rebecca comes next time I'm just goin' to seeonce if I can't be nice to her. "

"Of course you are. She's comin' to-morrow to help with the applebutter. But now you must go to sleep or you can't get up early to seeMillie put the cider on. Philip, he's asleep this long while already. "

A few minutes later the child was in bed and called a last good-nightto the mother, who stood in the hall, a little lighted lamp in herhand. Amanda had an eye for beauty and the picture of her motherpleased her. 

"Ach, Mom, " she called, "just stand that way a little once, rightthere. "

"Why?"

"Ach, you look wonderful like a picture I saw once, in that gray dressand the lamp in your hand. It's pretty. "

"Now, now, " chided the mother gently, "you go to sleep now. Good-night. "

"Good-night, " Amanda called after the retreating figure. 

CHAPTER III

BOILING APPLE BUTTER

Amanda rose early the next morning. Apple-butter boiling day wasalways a happy one for her. She liked to watch the fire under the bigcopper kettle, to help with the ceaseless stirring with a long-handledstirrer. She thrilled at the breathless moment when her mother testedthe thick, dark contents of the kettle and announced, "It's done. "

At dawn she went up the stairs with Uncle Amos to the big attic andopened and closed doors for him as he carried the heavy copper kettledown to the yard. Then she made the same trip with Millie and helped tocarry from the attic heavy stone crocks in which to store the applebutter. 

After breakfast she went out to the grassy spot in the rear of thegarden where an iron tripod stood and began to gather shavings andpaper in readiness for the fire. She watched Millie scour the greatcopper kettle until its interior shone, then it was lifted on thetripod, the cider poured into it, and the fire started. Logs were fedto the flames until a roaring fire was in blast. Several times Millieskimmed the foam from the cider. 

"This is one time when signs don't work, " the hired girl confided tothe child. "Your Aunt Rebecca says that if you cook apple butter in theup-sign of the almanac it boils over easy, but it's the down-signto-day, and yet this cider boils up all the time. "

"I guess it'll all burn in the bottom, " said Amanda, "if it's thedown-sign. "

"Not if you stir it good when the snitz are in. That's the time thework begins. Here's your mom and Philip. "

"Ach, Mom, "--Amanda ran to meet her mother--"this here's awful muchfun! I wish we'd boil apple butter every few days. "

"Just wait once, " said Millie, "till you're a little bigger and want togo off to picnics or somewhere and got to stay home and help to stirapple butter. Then you'll not like it so well. Why, Mrs. Hershey wastellin' me last week how mad her girls get still if the apple butter'sgot to be boiled in the hind part of the week when they want to be doneand dressed and off to visit or to Lancaster instead of gettin' theireyes full of smoke stirrin' apple butter. "

Mrs. Reist laughed. 

"But, " Amanda said with a tender glance at the hired girl, "I guessHershey's ain't got no Millie like we to help. "

"Ach, pack off now with you, " Millie said, trying to frown. "I got tostop this spoilin' you. You don't think I'd stand in the hot sun andstir apple butter while you go off on a picnic or so when you're bigenough to help good?"

"But that's just what you would do! I know you! Didn't you spend almostyour whole Christmas savin' fund on me and Phil last year?"

"Ach, you talk too much! Let me be, now, I got to boil apple butter. "

Philip ran for several boxes and old chairs and put them under aspreading cherry tree. "We take turns stirrin', " he explained, "sothose that don't stir can take it easy while they wait their turn. Jiminy Christmas, guess we'll have a regular party to-day. All of usare in it, and Aunt Rebecca's comin', and Lyman Mertzheimer, and Iguess Martin Landis, and mebbe some of the little Landis ones and thewhole Crow Hill will be here. Here comes Millie with the snitz!"

The pared apples were put into the kettle, then the stirring commenced. A long wooden stirrer, with a handle ten feet long, was used, the bighandle permitting the stirrer to stand a comfortable distance from thesmoke and fire. 

The boiling was well under way when Aunt Rebecca arrived. 

"My goodness, Philip, " she began as soon as she neared the fire, "youjust stir half! You must do it all around the bottom of the kettle orthe butter'll burn fast till it's done. Here, let me do it once. " Shetook the handle from his hands and began to stir vigorously. 

"Good!" cried the boy. "Now we can roast apples. Here, comes Lyman upthe road, and Martin Landis and the baby. Now we'll have some fun!" Hepointed to the toad, where Martin Landis, a neighbor boy, drew nearwith his two-year-old brother on his arm. 

"But you keep away from the fire, " ordered Aunt Rebecca. 

The children ran off to the yard to greet the newcomers and soon cameback joined by Lyman and Martin and the ubiquitous baby. 

"I told you, " Lyman said with mocking smiles, "that Martin would haveto bring the baby along. "

Martin Landis was fifteen, but hard work and much responsibility hadadded to him wisdom and understanding beyond his years. His frank, serious face could at times assume the look of a man of ripenedexperience. At Lyman's words it burned scarlet. "Ach, go on, " he saidquietly; "it'd do you good if you had a few to carry around; mebbe thenyou wouldn't be such a dude. "

That brought the laugh at the expense of the other boy, who turneddisdainfully away and walked to Aunt Rebecca with an offer to stir theapple butter. 

"No, I'll do it, " she said in a determined voice. 

"Give me the baby, " said Mrs. Reist, "then you children can go play. "The little tot ran to her outstretched arms and was soon laughing ather soft whispers about young chickens to feed and ducks to see. 

"Now, " Amanda cried happily, "since Mom keeps the baby we'll roast cornand apples under the kettle. "

In spite of Aunt Rebecca's protest, green corn and ripe apples weresoon encased in thick layers of mud and poked upon the glowing bedunder the kettle. 

"Abody'd think none o' you had breakfast, " she said sternly. 

"Ach, " said Mrs. Reist, "these just taste better because they'rewrapped in mud. I used to do that at home when I was little. "

"Well, I never did. They'll get burned yet with their foolin' round thefire. "

Her prophecy came perilously close to fulfilment later in the day. Amanda, bending near the fire to turn a mud-coated apple, drew tooclose to the lurking flames. Her gingham dress was ready fuel for thefire. Suddenly a streak of flame leaped up the hem of it. Aunt Rebeccascreamed. Lyman cried wildly, "Where's some water?" But before Mrs. Reist could come to the rescue Martin Landis had caught the frightenedchild and thrown her flat into a dense bed of bean vines near by, smothering the flames. 

Then he raised her gently. Much handling of his younger sisters andbrothers had made him adept with frightened children. 

"Come, Manda, " he said soothingly, "you're not hurt. Just your dress isburned a little. "

"My hand--it's burned, I guess, " she faltered. 

Again force of habit swayed Martin. He bent over and kissed the few redmarks on her fingers as he often kissed the bumped heads and scratchedfingers of the little Landis children. 

"Ach--" Amanda's hand fluttered under the kiss. 

Then a realization of what he had done came to the boy. "Why, " hestammered, "I didn't mean--I guess I oughtn't done that--I wasn'tthinking, Manda. "

"Ach, Martin, it's all right. You didn't hurt it none. " Shemisunderstood him. "See, it ain't hurt bad at all. But, Martin, youscared me when you threw me in that bean patch! But it put the fireout. You're smart to think of that so quick. "

"Oh, yes, " Mrs. Reist found her voice, and the color crept back to hercheeks again. "Martin, I can't thank you enough. "

"Um, " Lyman said sneeringly, "now I suppose Martin's a hero. "

"So he is!" said the little girl with decision. "He saved my life, andI ain't forgettin' it neither. " Then she sat down by her mother's sideand began to play with the baby. 

"Well, guess the fun's over, " said Lyman. "You went and spoiled it bycatching fire. " He went off in sulky mood. 

"My goodness, " exclaimed Aunt Rebecca, "mebbe now you'll keep away fromthis fire once. "

Amanda kept away. The fun of the apple-butter boiling was ended forher. She sat quietly under the tree while Millie and Aunt Rebecca andPhil took turns at stirring. She watched passively while Millie pouredpounds of sugar into the boiling mass. She even missed the customarythrill as some of the odorous contents of the kettle were tested andthe verdict came, "It's done!" The thrills of apple-butter boiling wereas nothing to her now. She still felt the wonder of being rescued fromthe fire, rescued by a nice boy with a strong arm and a gentle voice--what if it was only a boy she had known all her life!--her heartenshrined its first hero that day. 

She forgot the terror that had seized her as the flames licked up herdress, the scorching touch on her hand was obliterated from her memoryand only the healing gentleness of the kiss remained. 

"He kissed my hand, " she thought that night as she lay under herpatchwork quilt. "It was just like the stories we read about in schoolabout the 'knights of old that were brave and bold. '"

She thought of the picture on the schoolhouse wall. Sir Galahad, theteacher had called it, and read those lovely lines that Amandaremembered and liked--"My strength is as the strength of ten because myheart is pure. "

Martin was like that!

CHAPTER IV

A VISIT TO MARTIN'S MOTHER

When Amanda awoke the next morning her first thought was of the burnthand and its healing kiss. "Why, Martin--ach, Martin--he kissed myhand, " she said softly to herself. "Just like they do in the storiesabout knights--knights always kiss their ladies' hands. Ach, I knowwhat I'll do! I'll play Martin Landis is my knight and I'm his ladygrand. Wish Mom was here, then I'd ask her if she knows anything aboutwhat knights do and how the ladies ought to act to them. But she's inLancaster. Mebbe Millie would know. I'll go ask her once. "

Millie was baking pies when the girl sought her for the information. 

"Say, Millie!"

"Ach, what?" The hired girl brushed the flour from her bare arms andturned to look at Amanda. "Now I know what you want--you smell the piesand you want a half-moon sample to eat before it's right cold and getyour stomach upset and your face all pimply. Ain't?"

"No, " began the child, then added diplomatically, "why, yes, I do wantthat, but that ain't what I come for. "

Millie laughed. "Then what? But don't bother me for long. I got lots todo yet. I want to get the pies all done till your mom gets back. "

"Why, Millie, I wondered, do you know anything about knights?"

"Not me. I sleep nights. "

"Ach, Millie--knights--the kind you read about, the men that wearplumes in their hats. "

"Feathers, you mean? Why, the only man I ever heard of wearin' afeather in his hat was Yankee Doodle. "

"Ach, Millie, you make me mad! But I guess you don't know. Well, tellme this--if somebody did something for you and you wanted to show you'preciated it, what would you do?"

"That's an easy one! I'd be nice to them and do things for them or fortheir people. Now you run and let me be. 'Bout half an hour from nowyou dare come in for your half-moon pie. Ach, I most forgot! Your momsaid you shall take a little crock of the new apple butter down to Mrs. Landis. "

"A little crock won't go far with all them children. "

"Ach, yes. It'll smear a lot o' bread. I'll pack it in a basket so youcan carry it easy. Better put on your sunbonnet so your hair won't burnred. "

[Illustration: The rhubarb leaf parasol]

"Redder, you mean, ain't? But I won't need a bonnet. I'll take my newparasol. "

"Parasol, " echoed Millie. "Now what---"

But Amanda ran away, laughing, and returned in a few minutes holding agiant rhubarb leaf over her head. "Does the green silk of my parasollook good with my hair?" she asked with an exaggerated air of grandeur. 

"Go on, now, " Millie said, laughing, "and don't spill that apple butteror you'll get parasol. "

With a merry good-bye Amanda set off, the basket upon her arm, one handgrasping the red stem of the rhubarb parasol while the great green leafflopped up and down upon her head in cool ministration. 

Down the sunny road she trudged, spasmodically singing bits of gaysongs, then again talking to herself. "This here is a dandy parasol. Cooler'n a real one and lots nicer'n a bonnet or a hat. Only I wish itwas bigger, so my arms would be covered, for it's hot out to-day. "

When she reached the little red brick country schoolhouse, half-waybetween her home and the Landis farm, she paused in the shade of agreat oak that grew in the school-yard. 

"Guess I'll rest the apple butter a while in this shade, " she said toherself, "and pick a bouquet for my knight's mom. " From the grassyroadside she gathered yellow and gold butter-and-eggs, blue spikes offalse dragon's head, and edged them with a lacy ruffle of wild carrotflowers. 

"There, that's grand!" she said as she held the bouquet at arm's lengthand surveyed it carefully. "I'll hold it out, just so, and I'll say toMrs. Landis, 'Mother of my knight, I salute you!' I know she'll besurprised. Mebbe I might tell her just how brave her Martin is and howI made him a knight. She'll be glad. It must be a satisfaction to havea boy a knight. " She smiled in happy anticipation of the wonderfulmessage she was going to bring Mrs. Landis. Then she replaced therhubarb parasol over her head, picked up the basket, and went down thecountry road to the Landis farm. 

"It's good Landis's don't live far from our place, " she thought. "Myparasol's wiltin'. "

Like the majority of houses in the Crow Hill section of country, theLandis house was set in a frame of green trees and old-fashioned flowergardens. It flaunted in the face of the passer-by an old-time frontyard. The wide brick walk that led straight from the gate to the bigfront porch was edged on both sides with a row of bricks placed cornersup. On either side of the walk were bushes, long since placed withoutthe discriminating eye of a landscape gardener but holding in theirvery randomness a charm unrivaled by any precise planting. Mock-orangebushes and lilacs towered above the low deutzias, while masses ofzinnias, petunias, four-o'clocks, and a score of other old-fashionedposies crowded against each other in the long beds that edged the walksand in the smaller round beds that were dotted here and there in thegrass. Jaded motorists from the city drove their cars slowly past theglory of the Landis riot of blossoms. 

As Amanda neared the place she looked ruefully at her knot of wildflowers. "She's got so many pretty ones, " she thought. "But, ach, Iguess she'll like these here, too, long as they're a present. "

Two of the Landis children ran to greet Amanda as she opened the gateand entered the yard. 

"I'll lay my parasol by the gate, " she said. "Where's your mom?"

"In the kitchen, cannin' blackberries, " said little Henry. 

As Amanda rounded the corner of the house, the two children clinging toher arm, Mrs. Landis came to the kitchen door. 

"Mother of my knight, I salute you, " said Amanda, making as low a bowas the two barnacle children, the bouquet and the basket with its crockof apple butter, would allow. 

"What, " laughed Mrs. Landis. "Now what was that you said? The childrenmake so much noise I can't hear sometimes. Henry, don't hang so onAmanda's arm, it's too hot. "

"I said--why, I said--I have some apple butter for you that Mom sentand I picked a bouquet for you, " the child replied, her couragesuddenly gone from her. 

"Now, ain't that nice! Come right in. " The woman held the screen dooropen for the visitor. 

Mrs. Landis, mother of the imaginary knight and of six other children, was a sturdy, well-built woman, genial and good-natured, as stoutpeople are reputed to be. In spite of hard work she retained a look ofyouthfulness about her which her plain Mennonite dress and white capaccentuated. An artist with an appreciative eye might have said thatthe face of that mother was like a composite picture of all theMadonnas of the old masters--tender, love-lighted yet far-seeing andreverent. 

Amanda had always loved Mrs. Landis and spent many hours in her home, attracted by the baby--there always was one, either in arms or justwobbling about on chubby little legs. 

"Now ain't it nice of your mom to send us that new apple butter! Andfor you to pick the flowers for me! Sattie for both. I say still thatthe wild flowers beat the ones on the garden beds. And how pretty youfixed them!"

"Mom, Mom, " whispered little Henry, "dare I smear me a piece of bread?"

"Yes, if you don't make crumbs. "

"Oh, Mom, " cried Mary Landis, who came running in from the yard. "Whatd'you think? Manda left her green parasol out by the front gate andHenry's chewed the handle off of it!"

"Chewed the handle off a parasol--what--how?" said the surprisedmother. 

Amanda laughed. "But don't you worry about it, Mrs. Landis, " she said, "for it was a rhubarb parasol. "

"Oh!" A merry laugh followed the announcement about the edible parasolhandle and Mrs. Landis went back to spreading thick slices of breadwith apple butter while three pairs of eager hands were reaching out toher. 

A tiny wail which soon grew in volume sounded from a room in the frontof the house. 

"The baby's awake, " said Amanda. "Dare I fetch him?"

"Yes. Go right in. "

Amanda went through two rooms and came to a semi-darkened side roomwhere the smallest Landis was putting forth a loud protest at hisfancied neglect. 

"Come on, Johnny, don't cry no more. Manda's goin' to take you--see!"She raised the baby, who changed from crying to laughter. 

"Ain't he dear!" Amanda said as she brought the baby into the kitchen. "And so bright he is for not quite six months old. I remember how oldhe is because it was on my mom's last birthday in March that Milliesaid you had another baby and I remember, too, that Aunt Rebecca wasthere and she said, 'What, them Landis's got another baby! Poor thing!'I asked Mom why she said that and she thought Aunt Rebecca meant thatbabies make so much work for you. "

"Ach, abody works anyhow, might as well work tendin' babies. Put yourcheek against Johnny's face once, Amanda. "

Amanda bent her head and touched the soft cheek of the child. "Why, "she said, "ain't it soft, now! Ain't babies just too dear and sweet! Iguess Aunt Rebecca don't know how nice they are. "

"Poor thing, " said Mrs. Landis. 

"Poor--she ain't poor!" Amanda corrected her. "She owns two farms andgot lots of money besides. "

"But no children--poor thing, " repeated Mrs. Landis. 

Amanda looked at her, wondering. 

"Amanda, " said the white-capped mother as she wiped some blackberryjuice from little Henry's fingers, "abody can have lots of money andyet be poor, and others can have hardly any money and yet be rich. It'sall in what abody means by rich and what kind of treasures you setstore by. I wouldn't change places with your rich Aunt Rebecca for allthe farms in Lancaster County. "

"Well, I guess not!" Amanda could understand her attitude. "And Mom andMillie say still you got such nice children. But Martin now, " she saidwith assumed seriousness as she saw him step on the porch to enter thekitchen--"your Martin pushed me in a bean patch yesterday and I felldown flat on my face. "

"Martin!" his mother began sternly. "What for did you act so?"

"Amanda, don't you tell!" the boy commanded, his face flushing. "Don'tyou dare tell!"

"I got to now, I started it. Ach, Mrs. Landis, you dare be proud ofhim! My dress caught fire and none of us had sense but him. Hesmothered it by throwin' me in the bean patch and he--he's a hero!"

"A hero!" cried little Henry. "Mart's a hero!" while the mother smiledproudly. 

"Manda Reist, " Martin spoke quickly as he edged to the door. "AmandaReist, next time--next time I'll--darn it, I'll just let you burn up!"He ran from the room and disappeared round the corner of the house. 

"Why"--Amanda's lips trembled--"ain't he mean! I just wanted to be niceto him and he got mad. "

"Don't mind him, " soothed the mother. "Boys are funny. He's not mad atyou, he just don't like too much fuss made over what he done. But allthe time he's tickled all over to have you call him a hero. "

"Oh--are boys like that? Phil's not. But he ain't a knight. I guessknights like to pretend they're very modest even if they're full ofpride. " Mrs. Landis was too busy putting blackberries into the jars tocatch the import of the child's words. The word knight escaped herhearing. 

"Well, I must go now, " said the small visitor. "I'll come again. "

"All right, do, Amanda. "

She put the baby in its coach, took up the empty basket, and afternumerous good-byes to the children went down the road to her home. Therhubarb parasol gone, the sun beat upon her uncovered head but she wasunmindful of the intense heat. Her brain was wholly occupied withthoughts of Martin Landis and his strange behavior. 

"Umph, " she decided finally, "men _are_ funny things! I'm justfindin' it out. And I guess knights are queerer'n others yet! Wonder ifMillie kept my half-moon pie or if Phil sneaked it. Abody's just got towatch out for these men folks!"

CHAPTER V

AT AUNT REBECCA'S HOUSE

Several weeks after the eventful apple-butter boiling at the Reistfarm, Aunt Rebecca invited the Reist family to spend a Sunday at herhome. 

"I ain't goin', Mom, " Philip announced. "I don't like it there. Dare Istay home with Millie?"

"Mebbe Millie wants to come along, " suggested his mother. 

"Ach, I guess not this time. Just you go and Phil and I'll stay andtend the house and feed the chickens and look after things. "

"Well, I'm goin'!" spoke up Amanda. "Aunt Rebecca's funny and bossy butI like to go to her house, it's so little and cute, everything. "

"Cute, " scoffed the boy. "Everything's cute to a girl. You dare go, Iwon't! Last time I was there I picked a few of her honeysuckle flowersand pulled that stem out o' them to get the drop of honey that's ineach one, and she caught me and slapped my hand--mind you! Guess nextshe'll be puttin' up some scare-bees to keep the bees off her flowers. But say, Manda, if she gives you any of them little red and whitestriped peppermint candies like she does still, sneak me a few. "

"Humph! You don't go to see her but you want her candy! I'd be ashamed, Philip Reist!"

"Hush, hush, " warned Mrs. Reist. "Next you two'll be fightin', and on aSunday, too. "

The girl laughed. "Ach, Mom, guess we both got the tempers that goeswith red hair. But it's Sunday, so I'll be good. I'm glad we're goin'to Aunt Rebecca. That's a nice drive. "

Aunt Rebecca lived alone in a cottage at the edge of Landisville, abeautiful little town several miles from the Reist farm at Crow Hill. During her husband's life they lived on one of the big farms ofLancaster County, where she slaved in the manual labor of the greatfields. Many were the hours she spent in the hot sun of the tobaccofields, riding the planter in the early spring, later hoeing the richblack soil close to the little young plants, in midsummer finding andkilling the big green tobacco worms and topping and suckering theplants so that added value might be given the broad, strong leaves. Then later in the summer she helped the men to thread the harvestedstalks on laths and hang them in the long open shed to dry. 

Aunt Rebecca had married Jonas Miller, a rich man. All the years oftheir life together on the farm seemed a visible verification of theold saying, "To him that hath shall be given. " A special Providenceseemed to hover over their acres of tobacco. Storms and destructivehail appeared to roam in a swath just outside their farm. The JonasMiller tobacco fields were reputed to be the finest in the whole GardenSpot county, and the Jonas Miller bank account grew correspondinglyfast. But the bank account, however quickly it increased, failed togive Jonas Miller and his wife full pleasure, unless, as some say, themere knowledge of possession of wealth can bring pleasure to miserlyhearts. For Jonas Miller was, in the vernacular of the PennsylvaniaDutch, "almighty close. " Millie, Reists' hired girl, said, " That thereJonas is too stingy to buy long enough pants for himself. I bet he getsboys' size because they're cheaper, for the legs o' them always justcome to the top o' his shoes. Whoever lays him out when he's dead oncewill have to put pockets in his shroud for sure! And he's made poorBecky just like him. It ain't in her family to be so near; why, Mrs. Reist is always givin' somebody something! But mebbe when he dies onceand his wife gets the money in her hand she'll let it fly. "

However, when Jonas Miller died and left the hoarded money to his wifeshe did not let it fly. She rented the big farm and moved to the littleold-fashioned house in Landisville--a little house whose outwardappearance might have easily proclaimed its tenant poor. There shelived alone, with occasional visits and visitors to break the monotonyof her existence. 

That Sunday morning of the Reist visit, Uncle Amos hitched the horse tothe carriage, tied it by the front fence of the farm, then he wentup-stairs and donned his Sunday suit of gray cloth. Later he broughtout his broad-brimmed Mennonite hat and called to Amanda and her mother, "I'm ready. Come along!"

Mrs. Reist wore a black cashmere shawl pinned over her plain gray lawndress and a stiff black silk bonnet was tied under her chin. Amandaskipped out to the yard, wearing a white dress with a wide buff sash. Amatching ribbon was tied on her red hair. 

"Jiminy, " whistled Uncle Amos as she ran to him and swung her leghornhat on its elastic. "Jiminy, you're pretty---"

"Oh, am I, Uncle Amos?" She smiled radiantly. "Am I really pretty?"

"Hold on, here!" He tried to look very sober. "If you ain't growin' upfor sure! Lookin' for compliments a'ready, same as all the rest. I wasgoin' to say that you're pretty fancy dressed for havin' a Mennonitemom. "

"Oh, Uncle Amos!" Amanda laughed and tossed her head so the yellow bowdanced like a butterfly. "I don't believe you at all! You're too goodto be findin' fault like that! Millie says so, too. "

"She does, eh? She does? Just what does Millie say about me now?"

"Why, she said yesterday that you're the nicest man and have thebiggest heart of any person she knows. "

"Um--so! And Millie says that, does she? Um--so! well, well"--a glow ofjoy spread in his face and stained his neck and ears. Fortunately, forhis future peace of mind, the child did not notice the flush. Aswallowtail butterfly had flitted among the zinnias and attracted theattention of Amanda so it was diverted from her uncle. But he stillsmiled as Millie opened the front door and she and Mrs. Reist steppedon the porch. 

Millie, in her blue gingham dress and her checked apron, her straighthair drawn back from her plain face, was certainly no vision to causethe heart of the average man to pump faster. But as Amos looked at herhe saw suddenly something lovelier than her face. She walked to thegate, smoothing the shawl of Mrs. Reist, patting the buff sash of thelittle girl. 

"Big heart, " thought Amos, "it's her got the big heart!"

"Good-bye, safe journey, " the hired girl called after them as theystarted down the road. "Don't worry about us. Me and Phil can managealone. Good-bye. "

The road to Landisville led past green fields of tobacco and corn, large farmhouses where old-fashioned flowers made a vivid picture inthe gardens, orchards and woodland tracts, their green shade callinginvitingly. Once they crossed a wandering little creek whose shallowwaters flowed through lovely meadows where boneset plants were whitewith bloom and giant eupatorium lifted its rosy heads. A red-headedflicker flew screaming from a field as they passed, and a fussy wrenscolded at them from a fence corner. 

"She'll have a big job, " said Uncle Amos, "if she's goin' to scoldevery team and automobile that passes here this mornin'. Such a littlething to be so sassy!"

As they came to Landisville and drove into the big churchyard therewere already many carriages standing in the shade of the long open shedand numerous automobiles parked in the sunny yard. 

A few minutes later they entered the big brick meeting-house and satdown in the calm of the sanctuary. The whispers of newcomers driftedthrough the open windows, steps sounded on the bare floor of thechurch, but finally all had entered and quiet fell upon the place. 

The simple service of the Mennonite Church is always appealing andhelpful. The music of voices, without any accompaniment of musicalinstrument, the simple prayers and sermons, are all devoid ofostentation or ornamentation. Amanda liked to join in the singing anddid so lustily that morning. But during the sermon she often fell todreaming. The quiet meeting-house where only the calm voice of thepreacher was heard invited the building of wonderful castles in Spain. Their golden spires reared high in the blue of heaven. . . She would be alady in a trailing, silken gown, Martin would come, a plumed and beltedknight, riding on a pure white steed like that in the Sir Galahadpicture at school, and he'd repeat to her those beautiful words, "Mystrength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure. " Was therereally any truth in that poem? Could one be strong as ten because theheart was pure? Of course! It had to be true! Martin could be likethat. He'd lift her to the saddle on the pure white horse and they'dride away together to one of those beautiful castles in Spain, high upon the mountains, so high they seemed above the clouds. . . 

Then she came back to earth suddenly. The meeting was over and AuntRebecca stood ready to take them to her home. 

The country roads were filled with carriages and automobiles; theoccupants of the former nodded a cordial how-de-do, though most of themwere strangers, but the riders in the motors sped past without a signof friendliness. 

"My goodness, " said Aunt Rebecca, "since them automobiles is so commonabody don't get many how-de-dos no more as you travel along the countryroads. Used to be everybody'd speak to everybody else they'd meet onthe road--here, Amos, " she laid a restraining hand upon the reins. "Stop once! I see a horseshoe layin' in the road and it's got two nailsin it, too. That's powerful good luck! Stop once and let me get it. "

Amos chuckled and with a loud "Whoa" brought the horse to a standstill. Aunt Rebecca climbed from the carriage, picked up the trophy of goodluck and then took her seat beside her brother again, a smile upon herlined old face. 

"That's three horseshoes I have now. I never let one lay. I pick up allI find and take them home and hang them on the old peach tree in theback yard. I know they bring good luck. Mebbe if I hadn't picked up allthem three a lot o' trouble would come to me. "

"Have it your way, " conceded Uncle Amos. "They don't do you no hurt, anyhow. But, Rebecca, " he said as they came within sight of her littlehouse, "you ought to get your place painted once. "

"Ach, my goodness, what for? When it's me here alone. I think the houselooks nice. My flowers are real pretty this year, once. Course, I don'tfool with them like you do. I have the kind that don't take muchtendin' and come up every year without bein' planted. Calico flowersand larkspur and lady-slippers are my kind. This plantin' and hoein' atflowers is all for nothin'. It's all right to work so at beans andpotatoes and things you can eat when they grow, but what good areflowers but to look at! I done my share of hoein' and diggin' andworkin' in the ground. I near killed myself when Jonas lived yet, inthem tobacco patches. I used to say to him still, we needn't work sohard and slave like that after we had so much money put away, but hewas for workin' as long as we could, and so we kept on till he went. Heused to say money gets all if you begin to spend it and don't earnmore. Jonas was savin'. "

"He sure was, that he was, " seconded Uncle Amos with a twinkle in hiseyes. "Savin' for you and now you're savin' for somebody that'll makeit fly when you go, I bet. Some day you'll lay down and die and yourmoney'll be scattered. If you leave me any, Becky, " he teased her, "I'll put it all in an automobile. "

"What, them wild things! Road-hogs, I heard somebody call 'em, and Ithink it's a good name. My goodness, abody ain't safe no more sincethey come on the streets. They go toot, toot, and you got to hop off toone side in the mud or the ditch, it don't matter to them. I hate themthings! Only don't never take me to the graveyard in one of them. "

"By that time, " said Uncle Amos, "they'll have flyin' machine hearses;they'll go faster. "

"My goodness, Amos, how you talk! Ain't you ashamed to make fun at yourold sister that way! But Mom always said when you was little that youseemed a little simple, so I guess you can't help it. "

"Na-ha, " exulted Amanda, with impish delight. "That's one on you. AuntRebecca ain't so dumb like she lets on sometimes. "

"Ach, no, " Aunt Rebecca said, laughing. "'A blind pig sometimes findsan acorn, too. '"

Aunt Rebecca's table, though not lavishly laden as are those of most ofthe Pennsylvania Dutch, was amply filled with good, substantial food. The fried sausage was browned just right, the potatoes and lima beanswell-cooked, the cold slaw, with its dash of red peppers, was tasty andthe snitz pie--Uncle Amos's favorite--was thick with cinnamon, itscrust flaky and brown. 

After the dishes were washed Aunt Rebecca said, "Now then, we'll go inthe parlor. "

"Oh, in the parlor!" exclaimed Amanda. "Why, abody'd think we wascompany. You don't often take us in the parlor. "

"Ach, well, you won't make no dirt and I just thought to-day, once, I'dtake you in the parlor to sit a while. It don't get used hardly. Waittill I open the shutters. "

She led the way through a little hall to the front room. As she openedthe door a musty odor came to the hall. 

"It smells close, " said Aunt Rebecca, sniffing. "But it'll be all righttill I get some screens in. " She pulled the tasseled cords of the greenshades, opened the slatted shutters, and a flood of summer lightentered the room. "Ach, " she said impatiently as she hammered at onewindow, "I can hardly get this one open still, it sticks itself so. "But after repeated thumps on the frame she succeeded in raising it andplacing an old-fashioned sliding screen. 

"Now sit down and take it good, " she invited. 

Uncle Amos sank into an old-fashioned rocker with high back and curvedarms, built throughout for the solid comfort of its occupants. Mrs. Reist chose an old hickory Windsor chair, Aunt Rebecca selected, with asigh of relief, a fancy reed rocker, given in exchange for a book oftrading stamps. 

"This here's the best chair in the house and it didn't cost a cent, "she announced as she rocked in it. 

Amanda roamed around the room. "I ain't been in here for long. I wantto look around a little. I like these dishes. I wish we had some likethem. " She tiptoed before a corner cupboard filled with antiques. 

"Ach, yes, " her aunt answered, "mebbe it looks funny, ain't, to have aglass cupboard in the parlor, but I had no other room for it, the houseis so little. If I didn't think so much of them dishes I'd sold thema'ready. That little glass with the rim round the bottom of it I usedto drink out of it at my granny's house when I was little. Them darkshiny dishes like copper were Jonas's mom's. And I like to keep thepewter, too, for abody can't buy it these days. "

Amanda looked up. On the top shelf of the cupboard was a silver lustrepitcher, a teapot of rose lustre, a huge willow platter with its quaintblue design, several pewter bowls, a plate with a crude peacock inbright colors--an array of antiques that would have awakenedcovetousness in the heart of a connoisseur. 

A walnut pie-crust tilt top table stood in one corner of the room, amahogany gateleg occupied the centre, its beauty largely concealed by acover of yellow and white checked homespun linen, upon which rested aglass oil lamp with a green paper shade, a wide glass dish filled withpictures, an old leather-bound album with heavy brass clasps andhinges. A rag carpet, covered in places with hooked rugs, added aproper note of harmony, while the old walnut chairs melted into thewhole like trees in a woodland scene. The whitewashed walls were baresave for a large square mirror with a wide mahogany frame, a pictureholder made from a palm leaf fan and a piece of blue velvet briarstitched in yellow, and a cross-stitch canvas sampler framed with anarrow braid of horsehair from the tail of a dead favorite of long ago. 

"What's pewter made of, Aunt Rebecca?" asked the child. 

"Why, of tin and lead. And it's a pity they don't make it and use lotsof it like they used to long ago. For you can use pewter spoons invinegar and they don't turn black like some of these things that looklike silver but ain't. Pewter is good ware and I think sometimes thatthe people that lived when it was used so much were way ahead of thepeople to-day. Pewter's the same all through, no thin coatin' ofsomething shiny that can wear off and spoil the spoons or dishes. It'sold style now but it's good and pretty. "

"Yes, that's so, " agreed Amanda. It was surprising to the little girlthat the acidulous old aunt could, so unexpectedly, utter beautiful, suggestive thoughts. Oh, Aunt Rebecca's house was a wonderful place. She must see more of the treasures in the parlor. 

Finally her activity annoyed Aunt Rebecca. "My goodness, " came thecommand, "you sit down once! Here, look at the album. Mebbe that willkeep you quiet for a while. "

Amanda sat on a low footstool and took the old album on her knees. Sheuttered many delighted squeals of surprise and merriment as she turnedthe thick pages and looked at the pictures of several generations ago. A little girl with ruffled pantalets showing below her full skirt and afat little boy with full trousers reaching half-way between his kneesand his shoetops sent Amanda into a gale of laughter. "Oh, I wish Philwas here. What funny people!"

"Let me see once, " asked Aunt Rebecca. "Why, that's Amos and your mom. "

Mrs. Reist smiled and Uncle Amos chuckled. "We're peaches there, ain't?I guess if abody thinks back right you see there were as many crazystyles in olden times as there is now. "

Tintypes of men and women in peculiar dress of Aunt Rebecca's youthcalled forth much comment and many questions from the interestedAmanda. "Are there no pictures in here of you?" she asked her aunt. 

"Yes, I guess so. On the last page or near there. That one, " she saidas the child found it, a tintype of a young man seated on a vine-covered seat and a comely young woman standing beside him, one handlaid upon his shoulder. 

"And is that Uncle Jonas?"

"No--my goodness, no! That's Martin Landis. "

"Martin Landis? Not my--not the Martin Landis's pop that lives nearus?"

"Yes, that one. "

"Why"--Amanda was wide-eyed and curious--"what were you doin' with yourhand on his shoulder so and your picture taken with him?"

Aunt Rebecca laughed. "Ach, I had dare to do that for we was promisedthen, engaged they say now. "

"You were goin' to marry Martin Landis's pop once?" The girl could notquite believe it. 

"Yes. But he was poor and along came Jonas Miller and he was rich and Itook him. But the money never done me no good. Mebbe abody shouldn'tsay it, since he's dead, but Jonas was stingy. He'd squeeze a dollartill the eagle'd holler. He made me pinch and save till I got so Ididn't feel right when I spent money. Now, since he's gone, I don'tknow how. I act so dumb it makes me mad at myself sometimes. If I go toLancaster and buy me a whole plate of ice-cream it kinda bothers me. Ikeep wonderin' what Jonas'd think, for he used to say that half a plateof cream's enough for any woman. But mebbe it was to be that I marriedJonas instead of Martin Landis. Martin is a good man but all themchildren--my goodness! I guess I got it good alone in my little houselong side of Mrs. Landis with all her children to take care of. "

Amanda remembered the glory on the face of Mrs. Landis as she had said, "Abody can have lots of money and yet be poor and others can havehardly any money and yet be rich. It's all in what abody means by richand what kind of treasures you set store by. I wouldn't change placeswith your rich Aunt Rebecca for all the farms in Lancaster County. "Poor Aunt Rebecca, she pitied her! Then she remembered the words of thememory gem they had analyzed in school last year, "Where ignorance isbliss 'tis folly to be wise. " She could understand it now! So long asAunt Rebecca didn't see what she missed it was all right. But if sheever woke up and really felt what her life might have been if she hadmarried the poor man she loved--poor Aunt Rebecca! A halo of purestromance hung about the old woman as the child looked up at her. 

"My goodness, " the woman broke the spell, "it's funny how old picturesmake abody think back. That old polonaise dress, now, " she went on inreminiscent strain, "had the nicest buttons on. I got some of 'em yeton my charm string. "

"Charm string--what's a charm string?"

"Wait once. I'll show you. "

The woman left the room. They heard her tramp about up-stairs and soonshe returned with a long string of buttons threaded closely togetherand forming a heavy cable. 

"Oh, let me see! Ain't that nice!" exclaimed Amanda. "Where did youever get so many buttons and all different?"

"We used to beg them. When I was a girl everybody mostly had a charmstring. I kept puttin' buttons on mine till I was well up in mytwenties, then the string was full and big so I stopped. I used to hangit over the looking glass in the parlor and everybody that came lookedat it. "

Amanda fingered the charm string interestedly. Antique buttons, iridescent, golden, glimmering, some with carved flowers, othersglobules of colored glass, many of them with quaint filigree brassmounting over colored background, a few G. A. R. Buttons from olduniforms, speckled china ones like portions of bird eggs--all strungtogether and each one having a history to the little old eccentricwoman who had cherished them through many years. 

"This one Martin Landis give me for the string and this one is fromJonas' wedding jacket and this pretty blue glass one a girl gave methat's dead this long a'ready. "

"Oh"--Amanda's eyes shone. She turned to her mother, "Did you ever havea charm string, Mom?"

"Yes. A pretty one. But I let you play with it when you were a baby andthe string got broke and the buttons put in the box or lost. "

"Ach, but that spites me. I'd like to see it and have you tell wherethe buttons come from. I like old things like that, I do. "

"Then mebbe you'd like to see my friendship cane, " said Aunt Rebecca. 

"Oh, yes! What's that?" Amanda rose from her chair, eager to see what afriendship cane could be. 

"My goodness, sit down! You get me all hoodled up when you act sojumpy, " said the aunt. Then she walked to a corner of the parlor, reached behind the big cupboard and drew out a cane upon which weretied some thirty ribbon bows of various colors. 

"And is that a friendship cane?" asked Amanda. "What's it for?"

"Ach, it was just such a style, good for nothin' but for the girls ofmy day to have a little pleasure with. We got boys and girls to give uspretty ribbons and we exchanged with some and then we tied 'em on thecane. See, they're all old kinds o' ribbons yet. Some are double-facedsatin and some with them little scallops at the edge, and they'repretty colors, too. I could tell the name of every person who give me aribbon for that cane. My goodness, lots o' them boys and girls beendead long a'ready. I guess abody shouldn't hold up such old things solong, it just makes you feel bad still when you rake 'em out and lookat 'em. Here now, let me put it away, that's enough lookin' for oneday. " She spoke brusquely and put the cane into its hiding-place behindthe glass cupboard. 

As Amanda watched the stern, unlovely face during the critical, faultfinding conversation which followed, she thought to herself, "Ijust believe that Uncle Amos told the truth when he said that AuntRebecca's like a chestnut burr. She's all prickly on the outside butshe's got a nice, smooth side to her that abody don't often get thechance to see. Mebbe now, if she'd married Martin Landis's pop she'd beby now just as nice as Mrs. Landis. It wonders me now if she would!"

CHAPTER VI

SCHOOL DAYS

Mrs. Reist's desire for a happy childhood for her children was easilyrealized, especially in the case of Amanda. She had the happy facultyof finding joy in little things, things commonly called insignificant. She had a way of taking to herself each beauty of nature, each joy noteof the birds, the airy loveliness of the clouds, and being thrilled bythem. 

With Phil and Martin Landis--and the ubiquitous Landis baby--sheexplored every field, woods and roadside in the Crow Hill section ofthe county. From association with her Phil and Martin had developed anequal interest in outdoors. The Landis boy often came running into theReist yard calling for Amanda and exclaiming excitedly, "I found abird's nest! It's an oriole this time, the dandiest thing way out onthe end of a tiny twig. Come on see it!"

Amanda was the moving spirit of that little group of nature students. Phil and Martin might have never known an oriole from a thrush if shehad not led them along the path of knowledge. Sometimes some of theintermediate Landis children joined the group. At times LymanMertzheimer sauntered along and invited himself, but his interest wasfeigned and his welcome was not always cordial. 

"You Lyman Mertzheimer, " Amanda said to him one day, "if you want to goalong to see birds' nests you got to keep quiet! You think it's smartto scare them off the nests. That poor thrasher, now, that you scaredlast week! You had her heart thumpin' so her throat most burst. And herwith her nest right down on the ground where we could watch the babiesif we kept quiet. You're awful mean!"

"Huh, " he answered, "what's a bird! All this fuss about a dinky brownbird that can't do anything but flop its wings and squeal when you gonear it. It was fun to see her flop all around the ground. "

"Oh, you nasty mean thing, Lyman Mertzheimer"--for a moment Amandafound no words to express her contempt of him--"sometimes I just hateyou!"

He went off laughing, flinging back the prediction, "But some dayyou'll do the reverse, Amanda Reist. " He felt secure in the belief thathe could win the love of any girl he chose if he exerted himself to doso. 

The little country school of Crow Hill was necessarily limited in itscurriculum, hence when Amanda expressed a desire to become a teacher itwas decided to send her to the Normal School at Millersville. At thattime she was sixteen and was grown into an attractive girl. 

"I know I'm not beautiful, " she told her mother one day after a long, searching survey in the mirror. "My hair is too screaming red, but thenit's fluffy and I got a lot of it. Add to red hair a nose that's alittle pug and a mouth that's a little too big and I guess thecombination won't produce any Cleopatra or any Titian beauty. "

"But you forgot the eyes, " her mother said tenderly. "They are prettybrown and look--ach, I can't put it in fine words like you could, but Imean this: Your eyes are such honest eyes and always look so happy, like you could see through dark places and find the light and couldlook on wicked people and see the good in them and be glad about it. You keep that look in your eyes and no pretty girl will be lovelierthat you are, Amanda. "

"Mother, " the girl cried after she had kissed the white-capped woman, "if my eyes shine it's the faith and love you taught me that's shiningin them. "

During the summer preceding Amanda's departure for school there waspleasant excitement at the Reist farm. Millie was proud of the factthat Amanda was "goin' to Millersville till fall" and lost noopportunity to mention it whenever a friend or neighbor dropped infor a chat. 

Aunt Rebecca did not approve of too much education. "Of course, " sheput it, "you're spendin' your own money for this Millersville goin', but I think you'd do better if you put it to bank and give it to Amandawhen she gets married, once. This here rutchin' round to school so longis all for nothin'. I guess she's smart enough to teach country schoolwithout goin' to Millersville yet. "

However, her protests fell heedlessly on the ears of those mostconcerned and when the preparation of new clothes began Aunt Rebeccawas the first to offer her help. "It's all for nothin', this schoollearnin', but if she's goin' anyhow I can just as well as not help withthe sewin', " she announced and spent a few weeks at the Reist farm, giving valuable aid in the making of Amanda's school outfit. 

Those two weeks were long ones to Philip, who had scant patience withthe querulous old aunt. But Amanda, since she had glimpsed the girlhoodromance of the woman, had a kindlier feeling for her and could smile atthe faultfinding or at least run away from it without retort if itbecame too vexatious. 

Crow Hill was only an hour's ride from the school at Millersville, soAmanda spent most of her weekends at home. Each time she hadwonderful tales to tell, at least they seemed wonderful to the littlegroup at the Reist farmhouse. Mrs. Reist and Uncle Amos, denied intheir youth of more than a very meagre education, took just pride inthe girl who was pursuing the road to knowledge. Philip, boylike, expressed no pride in his sister, but he listened attentively to herstories of how the older students played pranks on the newcomers. Millie was proud of having _our Amanda_ away at school and did nothesitate to express her pride. She felt sure that before the girl'sthree years' course was completed the name of Amanda Reist would shineabove all others on the pages of the Millersville Normal Schoolrecords. 

"Oh, I've learned a few things about human nature, " said Amanda on hersecond visit home. "You know I told you last week how nice the oldergirls are to the new ones. A crowd of Seniors came into our room theother day and they were lovely! One of them told me she adored red hairand she just knew all the girls were going to love me because I havesuch a sweet face and I'm so dear--she emphasized every other word! Iwondered what ailed her. She didn't know me well enough to talk likethat. Before they left she began to talk about the Page LiterarySociety--'Dear, we're all Pageites, and it's the best, finest societyin the school. We do have such good times. You ought to join. All thevery nicest girls of the school are in it. ' I promised to think itover. Well, soon after they left another bunch of girls came into ourroom and they were just as sweet to us. By and by one of them said, 'Dear, we're all in the Normal Literary Society. It's the best societyin the school; all the very nicest girls belong to it. You should joinit. '"

"Ha, electioneering, was they!" said Uncle Amos, laughing. "Well, leaveit to the women. When they get the vote once we men got to pony up. Butwhich society did you join?"

"Neither. I'm going to wait a while and while I'm waiting I'm having aglorious time. The Pageites invited me to a fudge party one night, theNormalites took me for a long walk, a Pageite treated me to icecreamsoda one day and a Normalite gave me some real home-made cake the sameafternoon. It's great to be on the fence when both sides are coaxingyou to jump their way. "

"Well, " said Millie, her face glowing with interest and pride in thegirl, "if you ain't the funniest! I just bet them girls all want you tocome their way. But what kind o' meals do you get?"

"Good, Millie. Of course, though, I haven't any cellar to go to for pieor any cooky crock filled with sand-tarts with shellbarks on the top. "

"Don't you worry, Manda. I'll make you sand-tarts and lemon pie andeverything you like every time you come home still. "

"Millie, you good soul! With that promise to help me I'll work like aTrojan and win some honors at old M. S. N. S. Just watch me!"

Amanda did work. She brought to her studies the same whole-heartedinterest and enthusiasm she evinced in her hunts for wild flowers, sheapplied to them the same dogged determination and untiring efforts sheshowed in her long search for hidden bird nests, with the inevitableresult that her brain, naturally alert and brilliant, grasped withamazing celerity both the easy and the hard lessons of the NormalTraining course. 

Millie's prediction proved well founded--Amanda Reist stood well in herclasses. In botany she was the preeminent figure of the entire school. "Ask Amanda Reist, she'll tell you, " became the slogan among thestudents. "Yellow violets, lady-slippers, wild ginger--she'll tell youwhere they grow or get a specimen for you. "

When the time for graduation drew near Amanda was able to carry homethe glad news that she ranked third in her class and was chosen todeliver an oration at the Commencement exercises. 

"That I want to hear, " declared Millie, "and I'll get a new dress towear to it, too. "

On the June morning when the Commencement exercises of the FirstPennsylvania State Normal School took place there were hundreds ofhappy, eager visitors on the campus at Millersville, and later in thegreat auditorium, but none was happier than Millie Hess, Reists' hiredgirl. The new dress, bought in Lancaster and made by Mrs. Reist andAunt Rebecca, was a white lawn flecked with black. Millie had decidedon a plain waist with high neck, the inch wide band at the throat edgedwith torchon lace, after the style she usually wore, the skirt madefull and having above the hem, as Millie put it, "Just a few tucks, then wait a while, then tucks again. " But Amanda, happening on thescene as the dress was tried on, protested at the high neck. 

"Please, Millie, " she coaxed, "do have the neck turned down, oh, just alittle! I'd have a nice pleated ruffle of white net around it and alittle V in front. You'd look fine that way. "

"Me-fine! Go long with you, Amanda Reist! Ain't I got two good eyes anda lookin'-glass? But I guess I would look more like other folks if Ihad it made like you say. But now I don't want it too low. You dare fixit so it looks right. " Displaying the same meek acquiescence in thedesire of Amanda she bought a stylish hat instead of the big flatsailor with its taffeta bow she generally chose. The hat was Amanda'sselection, a small, modest little thing with pale pink and gray rosesmisty with a covering of black tulle. 

"Me with pink roses on my hat and over forty years old, " said Milliewonderingly, but when she tried it on and saw the improvement in herappearance she smiled happily. "It's the prettiest hat I ever had andI'll hold it up and take good care of it so it'll last me years. I'mgettin' fixed up for sure once, only my new shoes don't have no squeakin 'em at all. "

"That's out of style, " Amanda informed her kindly. 

"It is? Why, when I was little I remember hearin' folks tell how whenthey bought new shoes they always asked for a 'fib's worth of squeak'in 'em. "

"And now they pay the shoemaker more than a 'fib' to put a few pegs inthe shoes and take the squeak out. "

"Well, well, how things get different! But then I'm glad mine don'tmake no noise if that's the way now. "

Commencement day Millie could have held her own with any well-dressedcity woman. Her plain face was almost beautiful as she stood ready forthe great event of Amanda's life. At the last moment she thought of thebig bush of shrubs in the yard--"I must get me a shrub to smell in theCommencement, " she decided. So she gathered one of the queer-looking, fragrant brown blossoms, tied it in the corner of her handkerchief andbruised it gently so that the sweet perfume might be exuded. "Um-ah, "she breathed in the odor, "now I'm ready for Millersville. "

As she stood with Mrs. Reist and Philip on the front porch waiting forUncle Amos she said to Mrs. Reist, "Ain't Amanda fixed me up fine?Abody'd hardly know me. "

Mrs. Reist in her plain gray Mennonite dress and stiff black silkbonnet was, as usual, an attractive figure. Philip, grown to thedignity of long trousers, carried himself with all the poise ofseventeen. He was now a student in the Lancaster High School and had henot learned to dress and act like city boys do! Uncle Amos, in his bestSunday suit of gray, his Mennonite hat in his hand, ambled along lastas the little group went down the aisle of the Millersville chapel tosee Amanda's graduation. 

As Amanda marched in, her red hair parted on the side and coiled into awomanly coiffure, wearing a simple white organdie, she was just one ofthe hundred graduates who marched into the chapel. But later, as shestood alone on the platform and delivered her oration, "The Flowers ofthe Garden Spot, " she held the interested attention of all in that vastaudience. She knew her subject and succeeded in waking in the hearts ofher hearers a desire to go out in the green fields and quiet woods andfind the lovely habitants of the flower world. 

After it was all over and she stood, shining-eyed and happy, among herown people in the chapel, Martin Landis joined them. He, too, had leftchildhood behind. The serious gravity of his new estate was deepened inhis face, but the same tenderness that had soothed the numerous Landisbabies also still dwelt there. One of the regrets of his heart was thefact that nature had denied him great stature. He had always dreamed ofgrowing into a tall man, powerful in physique, like Lyman Mertzheimer. But nature was obstinate and Martin Landis reached manhood, a strong, sturdy being, but of medium height. His mother tried to assuage hisdisappointment by asserting that even if his stature was not great ashe wished his heart was big enough to make up for it. He tried to liveup to her valuation of him, but it was scant comfort as he stood in thepresence of physically big men. Life had not dealt generously with himas with Amanda in the matter of education. He wanted a chance to studyat some institution higher than the little school at Crow Hill but hisfather needed him on the farm. The elder man was subject to attacks ofrheumatism and at such times the brunt of farm labor fell upon theshoulders of Martin. 

Money was scarce in the Landis household, there were so many mouths tofeed and it seemed to Martin that he would never have the opportunityto do anything but work in the fields from early spring to late autumn, snatch a few months for study in a business college in Lancaster, thengo back again to the ploughing and arduous duties of his father's farm. He thought enviously of Lyman Mertzheimer, whose father had sent him toa well-known preparatory school and then started him in a full coursein one of the leading universities of the country. If he had a chancelike that! If he could only get away from the farm long enough to earnsome money he knew he could work his way through school and fit himselffor some position he would like better than farming. Some such thoughtsran through his brain as he went to congratulate Amanda on hergraduation day. 

"Oh, Martin!" she greeted him cordially. "So you got here, after all. I'm so glad!"

"So am I. I wouldn't have missed that oration for a great deal. I couldsmell the arbutus--say, it was great, Amanda!"

At that moment Lyman Mertzheimer joined them. 

"Congratulations, Amanda, " he said in his affected manner. As the good-looking son of a wealthy man he credited himself with the possession ofpermissible pride. "Congratulations, " he repeated, ignoring the smallerman who stood by the side of the girl. "Your oration was beautifullyrendered. You were very eloquent, but if you will pardon me, I'd liketo remind you of one flower you forgot to mention--a very importantflower of the Garden Spot. "

"I did?" she said as though it were a negligible matter. "What was theflower I forgot?"

"Amanda Reist, " he said, and laughed at his supposed cleverness. 

"Oh, " she replied, vexed at his words and his bold attitude, "I leftthat out purposely along with some of the weeds of the Garden Spot Imight have mentioned. "

"Meaning me?" He lifted his eyebrows in question. "You don't reallymean that, Amanda. " He spoke in winning voice. "I know you don't meanthat so I won't quarrel with you. "

"Well, I guess you better not!" spoke up Millie who had listened to allthat was said. "You don't have to get our Amanda cross on this hereday. She done fine in that speech and we're proud of her and don't wantyou nor no one else to go spoil it by any fuss. "

"I see you have more than one champion, Amanda. I'll have to be verycareful how I speak to you. " He laughed but a glare of anger shone inhis eyes. 

A few moments later the little party broke up and Lyman went off alone. A storm raged within him--"A hired girl to speak to me like that--acommon hired girl! I'll teach her her place when I marry Amanda. AndAmanda was high and mighty to-day. Thought she owned the world becauseshe graduated from Millersville! As though that's anything! She's thekind needs a strong hand, a master hand. And I'll be the master! I likeher kind, the women who have spirit and fire. But she needs to be heldunder, subjected by a stronger spirit. That little runt of a MartinLandis was hanging round her, too. He has no show when I'm in therunning. He's poor and has no education. He's just a clodhopper. "

Meanwhile the clodhopper had also said good-bye to Amanda. For somereason he did not stop to analyze, the heart of Martin Landis was lightas he went home from the Commencement at Millersville. He had alwaysdetested Lyman Mertzheimer, for he had felt too often the snubs andtaunts of the rich boy. Amanda's rebuff of the arrogant youth pleasedMartin. 

"I like Amanda, " he thought frankly, but he never went beyond that inthe analysis of his feelings for the comrade of his childhood and youngboyhood. "I like her and I'd hate to see her waste her time on a fellowlike Lyman Mertzheimer. I'm glad she squelched him. Perhaps some dayhe'll find there are still some desirable things that money can't buy. "

CHAPTER VII

AMANDA REIST, TEACHER

Amanda had no desire to teach far from her home. "I want to see thewhole United States if I live long enough, " she declared, "but I wantto travel through the distant parts of it, not settle there to live. While I have a home I want to stay near it. So I wish I could get aschool in Lancaster County. "

Her wish was granted. There was an opening in Crow Hill, in the littlerural school in which she had received the rudiments of her education. Amanda applied for the position and was elected. 

She brought to that little school several innovations. Her love andknowledge of nature helped her to make the common studies lessmonotonous and more interesting. A Saturday afternoon nutting partywith her pupils afforded a more promising subject for Monday's originalcomposition than the hackneyed suggestions of the grammar book's "Tellall you know about the cultivation of coffee. " Later, snow forts in theschool-yard impressed the children with the story of Ticonderoga moreindelibly than mere reading about it could have done. During her lastyear at Normal, Amanda had read about a school where geography wastaught by the construction of miniature islands, capes, straits, peninsulas, and so forth, in the school-yard. She directed the olderchildren in the formation of such a landscape picture. When ablundering boy slipped and with one bare foot demolished at one strokethe cape, island and bay, there was much merriment and rivalry for thehonor of rebuilding. The children were almost unanimous in theiraffection for the new teacher and approval of her methods of teaching. Most of them ran home with eager tales concerning the wonderful, funny, "nice" ways Miss Reist had of teaching school. 

However, Crow Hill is no Eden. Some of the older boys laughed at the"silly ideas" of "that Manda Reist" and disliked the way she taughtgeography and made the pupils "play in the dirt and build capes andislands and the whole blamed geography business right in the school-yard. "

It naturally followed that adverse criticism grew and grew, likeLongfellow's pumpkin, and many curious visitors came to Crow Hillschool. The patrons, taxpayers, directors were concerned and consideredit their duty to drop in and observe how things were being run in thatschool. They found that the three R's were still taught efficiently, even if they were taught with the aid of chestnuts, autumn leaves andflowers; they were glad to discover that an island, though formed inthe school-yard from dirt and water, was still being defined with theold standard definition, "An island is a body of land entirelysurrounded by water. "

If any other school had graduated Amanda, her position might have beena trifle precarious, but Millersville Normal School was too well knownand universally approved in Lancaster County to admit of anyquestionable suggestions about its recent graduate. Most of the peoplewho came to inspect came without any antagonistic feeling and they leftconvinced that, although some of Amanda Reist's ways were a littledifferent, the scholars seemed to know their lessons and to progresssatisfactorily. 

Later in the school year she urged the children to bring dried cornhusk to school, she brought brightly colored raffia, and taught themhow to make baskets. The children were clamorous for more knowledge ofbasket making. The fascinating task of forming objects of beauty andusefulness from homely corn husk and a few gay threads of raffia wasnovel to them. Amanda was willing to help the children along the pathof manual dexterity and eager to have them see and love the beautiful. Under her guidance they gathered and pressed weeds and grasses and theairy, elusive milkweed down, caught butterflies, and assembled thewhole under glass, thus making beautiful trays and pictures. 

On the whole it was a wonderful, happy year for the new teacher of theCrow Hill school. When spring came with all the alluring witchery ofthe Garden Spot it seemed to her she must make every one of her pupilsfeel the thrill of the song-sparrow's first note and the matchlessloveliness of the anemone. 

One day in early April, the last week of school, as she locked the doorof the schoolhouse and started down the road to her home an unusualglow of satisfaction beamed on her face. 

"Only two more days of school, then the big Spelling Bee to wind it upand then my first year's teaching will be over! I have enjoyed it butI'm like the children--eager for vacation. "

She hummed gaily as she went along, this nineteen-year-old schoolteacher so near the end of her first year's work in the schoolroom. Hereyes roved over the fair panorama of Lancaster County in early springdress. As she neared the house she saw her Uncle Amos resting under agiant sycamore tree that stood in the front yard. 

"Good times, " she called to him. 

"Hello, Manda, " he answered. "You're home early. "

"Early--it's half-past four. Have you been asleep and lost track of thetime?"

He took a big silver watch from a pocket and whistled as he looked atit. "Whew! It is that late! Time for me to get to work again. Your AuntRebecca's here. "

"Dear me! And I felt so happy! Now I'll get a call-down about somethingor other. I'm ashamed of myself, Uncle Amos, but I think Aunt Rebeccagets worse as she grows older. "

"'Fraid so, " the man agreed soberly. "Well, we can't all be alike. Toobad, now, she don't take after me, eh, Amanda?"

"It surely is! You're the nicest man I know!"

"Hold on now, " he said; "next you make me blush. I ain't used togettin' compliments. "

"But I mean it. I don't see how she can be your sister and Mother's! Ithink the fairies must have mixed babies when she was little. I can seemany good qualities in her, but there's no need of her being socontrary and critical. I remember how I used to be half afraid of herwhen I was little. She tried to make Mother dress me in a plain dressand a Mennonite bonnet, but Mother said she'd dress me like a littlegirl and if I chose I could wear the plain dress and bonnet when I wasold enough to know what it means. Oh, Mother's wonderful! If I had AuntRebecca for a mother--but perhaps she'd be different then. Oh, UncleAmos, do you remember the howl she raised when we had our house wiredfor electricity?"

"Glory, yes! She was scared to death to come here for a while. "

"And Phil wickedly suggested we scare her again! But she was afraid ofit. She was sure the house would be struck by lightning the firstthunder-storm we'd have. And when we put the bath tub into the house--whew! Didn't she give us lectures then! She has no use for 'swimmin'tubs' to this day. If folks can't wash clean out of a basin they mustbe powerful dirty! That's her opinion. "

Both laughed at the remembrance of the old woman's words. Then the girlasked, "What did she have to say to you to-day? Did she iron anywrinkles out of you?"

"Oh, I got it a'ready. " The man chuckled. "I was plantin' potatoes tillmy back was near broke and I came in to rest a little and get a drink. She told me it's funny people got to rest so often in these days whenthey do a little work. She worked in the fields often and she couldstand more yet than a lot o' lazy men. I didn't answer her but I cameout here and got my rest just the same. She ain't bossin' her brotherAmos yet! But now I got to work faster for this doin' nothin' under thetree. "

When Amanda entered the kitchen she found her mother and the visitorcutting carpet rags. Old clothes were falling under the snip of theshears into a peach basket, ready to be sewn together, wound into ballsand woven into rag carpet by the local carpet weaver on his hand loom. 

"Hello, " said the girl as she laid a few books on the kitchen table. 

"Books again, " sniffed Aunt Rebecca. "I wonder now how much money getsspent for books that ain't necessary. "

"Oh, lots of it, " answered the girl cheerfully. 

"Umph, did you buy those?"

"Yes, when I went to Millersville. "

"My goodness, what a lot o' money goes for such things these days!There's books about everything, somebody told me. There's even somewrote about the Pennsylvania Dutch and about that there Stiegel glasssome folks make such a fuss about. I don't see nothin' in that Stiegelglass to make it so dear. Why, I had a little white glass pitcher, crooked it was, too, and nothin' extra to look at. But along come oneof them anteak men, so they call themselves, the men that buy up oldthings. Anyhow, he offered to give me a dollar for that little pitcher. Ach, I didn't care much for it, though it was Jonas's granny's still. Isold it to that man quick before he'd change his mind and mebbe onlygive me fifty cents. "

"You sold it?" asked Amanda. "And was it this shape?"

She made a swift, crude sketch of the well-known Stiegel pitcher shape. 

"My goodness, you drawed one just like it! It looked like that. "

"Then, Aunt Rebecca, you gave that man a bargain. That was a realStiegel pitcher and worth much more than a dollar!"

"My goodness, what did I do now! You mean it was worth _more_ thanthat?" The woman was incredulous. 

"You might have gotten five, perhaps ten, dollars for it in the city. You know Stiegel glass was some of the first to be made in thiscountry, made in Manheim, Pennsylvania, way back in 1760, or some suchearly date as that. It was crude as to shape, almost all the pieces area little crooked, but it was wonderfully made in some ways, for it hasa ring like a bell, and the loveliest fluting, and some of it is inbeautiful blue, green and amethyst. Stiegel glass is rare and valuableso if you have any more hold on to it and I'll buy it from you. "

"Well, I guess! I wouldn't leave you pay five dollars for a glasspitcher! But I wish I had that one back. It spites me now I sold it. Mygoodness, abody can't watch out enough so you won't get cheated. Wheredid you learn so much about that old glass?"

"Oh, I read about it in a _book_ last year, " came the readyanswer. 

Aunt Rebecca looked at the girl, but Amanda's face bore so innocent anexpression that the woman could not think her guilty of emphasizing theword purposely. 

"So, " the visitor said, "they did put something worth in a book once!Well, I guess it's time you learn something that'll help you savemoney. All the books you got to read! And Philip's still goin' toschool, too. Why don't he help Amos on the farm instead of runnin' toLancaster to school?"

"He wants to be a lawyer, " said Mrs. Reist. "I think still that as longas he has a good head for learnin' and wants to go to school I shouldleave him go till he's satisfied. I think his pop would say so if hewas livin'. Not everybody takes to farmin' and it is awful hard work. Amos works that hard. "

"Poof, " said Aunt Rebecca, "I ain't heard tell yet of any man workin'himself to death! It wouldn't hurt Philip to be a farmer. The troubleis it don't sound tony enough for the young ones these days. Lawyer--what does he want to be a lawyer for? I heard a'ready that they are allliars. You're by far too easy!"

"Oh, Aunt Rebecca, " said Amanda, "not all lawyers are liars. AbrahamLincoln was a lawyer. "

"Ach, I guess he was no different from others, only he's dead so abodyshouldn't talk about him. "

Amanda sighed and turned to her mother. "Mother, I'm going up to put onan old dress and when Phil comes we're going over to the woods forarbutus. "

"All right. "

But the aunt did not consider it all right. "Why don't you help cutcarpet rags?" she asked. "That would be more sense than runnin' outafter flowers that wither right aways. "

"If we find any, Millie is going to take them to market to-morrow andsell them. Some people asked for them last week. It's rather early butwe may find some on the sunny side of the woods. "

"Oh, " the woman was mollified, "if you're goin' to sell 'em that'sdifferent. Ain't it funny anybody _buys_ flowers? But then somepeople don't know how to spend their money and will buy anything, justso it's buyin'!"

But Amanda was off to the wide stairs, beyond the sound of theharanguing voice. 

"Glory!" she said to herself when she reached her room. "If my red hairdidn't bristle! What a life we'd have if Mother were like that! If Iever think I have nothing to be thankful for I'm going to rememberthat!"

A little while later she went down the stairs, out through the yard anddown the country road to meet her brother. She listened for hiswhistle. In childhood he had begun the habit of whistling a strain fromthe old song, "Soldier's Farewell" and, like many habits of earlyyears, it had clung to him. So when Amanda heard the plaintive melody, "How can I leave thee, how can I from thee part, " she knew that herbrother was either arriving or leaving. 

As she walked down the road in the April sunshine the old whistlefloated to her. She hastened her steps and in a bend in the road cameface to face with the boy. 

At sight of her he stopped whistling, whipped off his cap and greetedher, "Hello, Sis. I thought that would bring you if you were about. Oh, don't look so tickled over my politeness--I just took off my hatbecause I'm hot. This walk from the trolley on a day like this warmsyou up. "

His words brought a light push from the girl as she took her placebeside him and they walked on. 

"That's a mournful whistle for a home-coming, " Amanda told him. "Can'tyou find a more appropriate one?"

"My repertoire is limited, sister--I learned that big word in Englishclass to-day and had to try it out on some one. "

"Phil, you're crazy!" was the uncomplimentary answer, but her eyessmiled with pride upon the tall, red-haired boy beside her. "I see it'sone of your giddy days so I'll sober you up a bit--Aunt Rebecca's atthe house. "

"Oh, yea!" He held his side in mock agony. 

"Again? What's the row now? Any curtain lectures?"

"Be comforted, Phil. She's going home to-night if you'll drive her toLandisville. "

"Won't I though!" he said, with the average High School boy's disregardof pure English. "Surest thing you know, Sis, I'll drive her home oranywhere else. What's she doing?"

"Helping Mother cut carpet rags. "

"Well, that's the only redeeming feature about her. She does helpMother. Aunt Rebecca isn't lazy. I'm glad to be able to say one nicething about her. Apart from that she's generally as Millie says, 'actin' like she ate wasps. ' But she can't scare me. All her rantinggoes in one ear and out the other. "

"Nothing there to stop it, eh, Phil?"

"Amanda! That from you! Now I know how Caesar felt when he saw Brutuswith the mob. "

"It's a case of 'Cheer up, the worst is yet to come, ' I suppose, so youmight as well smile. "

In this manner they bantered until they reached the Reist farmhouse. There the boy greeted the visitor politely, as his sister had done. 

"My goodness, " was the aunt's greeting to him, "you got an armful ofbooks, too!"

"Yes. I'm going to be a lawyer, but I have to do a lot of hard studyingbefore I get that far. "

"Umph, that's nothin' to brag about. I'd think more of you if youstayed home and helped Amos plant corn and potatoes or tobacco. "

"I'd never plant tobacco. Chewing and smoking are filthy habits and I'dnever have the stuff grow on any farm I owned. "

"But the money, Philip, just think once of the money tobacco brings!But, ach, it's for no use talkin' farm to you. You got nothin' butbooks in your head. How do you suppose this place is goin' to be runabout ten years from now if Amanda teaches and you turn lawyer? Amos issoon too old to work it and you can't depend on hired help. Then what?"

"Search me, " said the boy inelegantly. "But I'm not worrying about it. We may not want to live here ten years from now. But, Mother, " heveered suddenly, "got any pie left from dinner? I'm hungry. May Iforage?"

"Help yourself, Philip. There's a piece of cherry pie and a slice ofchocolate cake in the cellar. "

"Hurray, Mother! I'm going to see that you get an extra star in yourcrown some day for feeding the hungry. "

"But you spoil him, " said Aunt Rebecca as Phil went off to the cellar. "And if that boy ain't always after pie! I mind how he used to eat piewhen he was little and you brought him to see us. Not that I grudgedhim the pie, but I remember how he always took two pieces if he got it. And pie ain't good for him, neither, between meals. "

"I guess it won't hurt him, " said Mrs. Reist; "the boy's growin' and hehas just a lunch at noon, so he gets hungry till he walks in from thetrolley. Boys like pie. His father was a great hand for pie. "

"Well, " said the aunt decisively, "I would never spoiled children if Ihad any. But I had none. "

"Thank goodness!" Amanda breathed to herself as she went out to theporch to wait for her brother. 

"Um, that pie was good, " was his verdict as he joined her. "But say, Sis, didn't you hear the squirrels chatter in there?"

"Come on. " Amanda laughed as she swung the basket to her arm and pulledeagerly at the sleeve of the boy's coat. "Let's go after the flowersand forget all about her. "

Along the Crow Hill schoolhouse runs a long spur of wooded hillsskirting the country road for a quarter of a mile and stretching awayinto denser timberland. In those woods were the familiar paths Amandaand Phil loved to traverse in search of flowers. In April, when thefirst warm, sunshiny days came, the ground under the dead leaves of theovershadowing oaks was carpeted with arbutus. Eager children soon foundthose near the crude rail fence, but Amanda and Phil followed thenarrow trails to the secluded sheltered spots where the May flowers hadnot been touched that spring. 

"No roots, Phil!" warned the girl as they knelt in the brown leaves andpushed away the covering from the fragrant blossoms. 

"Sure thing not, Sis! We don't want to exterminate the trailing arbutusin Crow Hill. Say, I passed two kids this morning as I was going to thetrolley. They had a bunch of arbutus, roots and all. Believe me, Iacted up like Aunt Rebecca for about two minutes. But it's a shame totake the roots. I almost hate to pick the flowers--seems as if they'reat home here in the woods--belong here, in a way. "

"I know what you're thinking about, Phil; that little verse:

 'Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? Loved the wood-rose and left it on its stalk? Oh, be my friend, and teach me to be thine. '

I agree with the first half of the requirement, but the latter halfcan't always be followed. At any rate, the wild rose is better left onthe stem, for it withers when plucked. But with arbutus it's different. Why, Phil, some of the people who come to market and buy our wildflowers would never see any if they could not buy them in the city. Imagine, if you can, yourself living in a big city, far away from CrowHill, where the Mayflowers grow--Philadelphia or New York, or some suchformidable-sounding place. The city might engross your attention soyou'd be happy for months. But along comes spring with its call to thewoods and meadows. Still the city and its demands grip you like a vise, and you can't run away to where the wild green things are pushing tothe light. Suppose you saw a flower-stand and a tiny bunch of arbutus--"

"I'd pay my last dollar for them!" declared Philip. "Guess you'reright. According to your reasoning, we're as good as missionaries whenwe find wild flowers and take or send them to the city market to sell. Aunt Rebecca wouldn't see that. She'd see the money end of it. Poorsoul! I'm glad I'm not like her. "

"Pharisee, " chided his sister. 

"Well, do you know, Manda, sometimes I think there's something to besaid in favor of the Pharisee. "

The girl gave him a quizzical look. 

The serious and the light were so strangely mingled in the boy'snature. Amanda caught many glimpses into the recesses of his heart, recesses he knew she would not try to explore deeper than he wished. For the natures of brother and sister were strongly similar--light-hearted and happy, laughing and gay, keen to enjoy life, but readingsome part of its mysteries, understanding some of its sorrows andshowing at times evidences of searching thought and grave retrospect. 

"How many dollars' worth do we have?" the boy asked in imitation ofAunt Rebecca's mercenary way. 

"Oh, Phil! You're dreadful! But I bet the flowers will be gone in notime when Millie puts them out. "

"I'd wager they'd go faster if you sold them, " he replied, lookingadmiringly at the girl. "You'd be a pretty fair peddler of flowers, Sis. "

"Oh, Phil, be sensible. "

"I mean it, Amanda. You're not so bad looking. Your hair isn't commonred, it's Titian. And it's fluffy. Then your eyes are good and yourcomplexion lacks the freckles you ought to have. Your nose isn'tGrecian, but it'll do--we'll call it retroussé, for that sounds nicerthan pug. And your mouth--well, it's not exactly a rosebud one, but itdoesn't mar the general landscape like some mouths do. Altogether, you're real good-looking, even if you are my sister. "

"Philip Reist, you're impertinent! But I suppose you are truthful. That's a doubtful compliment you're giving me, but I'm glad to say yourveracity augurs well for your success as a lawyer. If you are always ashonest as in that little speech you just delivered, you'll do. "

"Oh, I'll make grand old Abe Lincoln look to his laurels. "

And so, with comradely teasing, threaded with a more serious vein, anhour passed and the two returned home with their baskets filled withthe lovely pink and white, delicately fragrant, trailing arbutus. 

They found the supper ready, Uncle Amos washed and combed, and waitingon the back porch for the summons to the meal. 

Mrs. Reist peeped into the basket and exclaimed in joy as she breathedin the sweet perfume of the fresh flowers. Millie paused in the act ofpouring coffee into big blue cups to "get a sniff of the smell, " butAunt Rebecca was impatient at the momentary delay. "My goodness, butyou poke around. I like to get the supper out before it gets cold. "

There was no perceptible hurry at her words, but a few minutes laterall were seated about the big table in the kitchen with a hearty supperspread before them. 

Uncle Amos was of a jovial, teasing disposition, prone to occasionalshrewd thrusts at the idiosyncrasies of his acquaintances, but he heldsacred things sacred and rendered to reverent things their duereverence. It was his acknowledged privilege to say grace, at the mealsserved in the Reist home. 

That April evening, after he said, "Amen, " Philip turned to Amanda andsaid, "Polly wants some too. "

The girl burst into gay laughter. Everybody at the table looked at herin surprise. 

"What's funny?" asked Aunt Rebecca. 

"I'll tell you, " Phil offered. "Last Saturday we were back at Harnly's. They have two parrots on the porch, and all morning we tried to getthose birds to talk. They just sat and blinked at us, looked wise, butsaid not a word. I forgot all about them when we went in to dinner, butwe had just sat down and bowed our heads for grace when those birdsbegan to talk. They went at it as though some person had wound them up. 'Polly wants some dinner; Polly wants some, too. Give Polly some too. 'Well, it struck me funny. Their voices were so shrill and it was such asurprise after they refused to say a word, that I got to laughing. Igave Amanda a nudge, and she got the giggles. "

"It was awful, " said Amanda. "If Phil hadn't nudged me I could haveweathered through by biting my lips. "

"I don't see anything to laugh about when two parrots talk, " was AuntRebecca's remark. "Anyhow, that was no time to laugh. I guess you'llremember what I tell you, some day when you got to cry for all thislaughin' you do now. "

"Ach, " said the mother, "let 'em laugh. I guess we were that way tooonce. "

"Bully for you, Mother, " cried the boy; "you're as young as any of us. "

"That's what, " chimed in Millie. 

"Oh, say, Millie, " asked Philip, "did you make that cherry pie Ifinished up after school to-day?"

"Yes. Was it good?"

"Good? It melted in my mouth. When I marry, Millie, I'm going to borrowyou for a while to come teach my wife how to make such pies. "

"Listen at him now! Ain't it a wonder he wouldn't think to get a wifethat knows how to cook and bake? But, Philip Reist, you needn't thinkI'll ever leave your mom unless she sends me off. "

"Wouldn't you, now, Millie?" asked Uncle Amos. 

"Why, be sure, not! I ain't forgettin' how nice she was to me a'ready. I had hard enough to make through before I came here to work. I had aplace to live out in Readin' where I was to get big money, but when Igot there I found I was to go in the back way always, even on Sunday, and was to eat alone in the kitchen after they eat, and I was to go tomy room and not set with the folks at all. I just wouldn't live likethat, so I come back to Lancaster County and heard about you peoplewantin' a girl, and here I am. "

Amanda looked at the hired girl. In her calico dress and gingham apron, her hair combed back plain from her homely face, she was certainly notbeautiful, and yet the girl who looked at her thought she appearedreally attractive as the gratitude of her loyal heart shone on hercountenance. 

"Millie's a jewel, " thought Amanda. "And Mother's another. I hope Ishall be like them as I grow older. "

After the supper dishes were washed, Aunt Rebecca decided it was timefor her to go home. 

"Wouldn't you like to go in the automobile this time?" suggestedPhilip. "It would go so much faster and is easier riding than thecarriage. "

"Faster! Well, I guess that horse of yourn can get me anywhere I wantto go fast enough to suit me. I got no time for all these new-fangledthings, like wagons that run without horses, and lights you put on andoff with a button. It goes good if you don't get killed yet with thatautomobile. "

"Then I'll hitch up Bill, " said the boy as he went out, an amused smileon his face. 

Amanda was thoughtful as she bunched the arbutus for the market nextday. "I wonder how Uncle Jonas could live with Aunt Rebecca, " shequestioned. Ah, that was an enlightening test. "Am I an easy, pleasantperson to live with?" Making full allowance for differences intemperament and dispositions, there was still, the girl thought, apossible compatibility that could be cultivated so that family lifemight be harmonious and happy. 

"It's that I am going to consider when I get married, if I ever do, "she decided that day. "I won't marry a man who would 'jaw' like AuntRebecca. I'm fiery-tempered myself, and I'll have to learn to controlmy anger better. Goodness knows I've had enough striking examples ofhow scolding sounds! But I won't want to squabble with the man I reallycare for--Martin Landis, for instance--" Her thoughts went off to hercastles in Spain as she gathered the arbutus into little bunches andtied them. "He offered to help me fix my schoolroom for the SpellingBee on Saturday. He's got a big heart, my Sir Galahad of childhood. "She smiled as she thought of her burned hand and his innocent kiss. "Poor Martin--he's working like a man these ten years. I'd like to seehim have a chance at education like Lyman Mertzheimer has. I know he'daccomplish something in the world then! At any rate, Martin's agentleman and Lyman's a--ugh, I hate the very thought of him. I'm gladhe's not at home to come to my Spelling Bee. "

CHAPTER VIII

THE SPELLING BEE

The old-fashioned Spelling Bee has never wholly died out in LancasterCounty, Pennsylvania. Each year readers of certain small-town paperswill find numerous news-titles headed something like this: "The BeesWill Buzz, " and under them an urgent invitation to attend a SpellingBee at a certain rural schoolhouse. "A Good Time Promised"--"Classesfor All"--"Come One, Come All"--the advertisements never fail. Manypersons walk or ride to the little schoolhouse. The narrow seats, thebenches along the wall, and all extra chairs that can be brought to theplace are taken long before the hour set for the bees to buzz. Themunificent charge is generally fifteen cents, and where in this wholeUnited States of America can so much real enjoyment be secured forfifteen cents as is given at an old-fashioned Spelling Bee?

That April evening of Amanda's Bee the Crow Hill schoolhouse was filledat an early hour. The scholars, splendid in their Sunday clothes, occupied front seats. Parents, friends and interested visitors fromnear-by towns crowded into the room. 

Amanda, dressed in white, came upon the platform and announced that thescholars had prepared a simple program which would be interspersedthrough the spelling classes. 

Vehement clapping of hands greeted her words and then the audiencebecame silent as the littlest scholar of the school rose and deliveredthe address of welcome. There followed music and more recitations, allamateurish, but they brought feelings of pride to many mothers andfathers who listened, smiling, to "Our John" or "Our Mary" do his orher best. 

But the real excitement began with the spelling classes. The first wasopen to all children under fourteen. At the invitation, boys and girlswalked bravely to the front and joined the line till it reached fromone side of the room to the opposite. A teacher from a neighboring towngave out the words. The weeding-out process soon began. Some fell downon simple words, others handled difficult ones with ease and spelledglibly through some which many of the older people present hadforgotten existed. Soon the class narrowed down to two. Back and forth, back and forth the words rolled until the teacher pronounced one of theold standby catch-words. One of the contestants shook his head, puzzled, and surrendered. 

There was more music, several recitations by the children, a spellingclass for older people, more music, then a General Information class, whose participants were asked such questions as, "Who is StateSuperintendent of Schools?" "How many legs has a fly?" "How many teethhas a cow?" "Which color is at the top of the rainbow arch?" The amazed, puzzled expressions on the faces of the questioned afforded muchmerriment for the others. It was frequently necessary to wait a momentuntil the laughter was suppressed before other questions could be asked. 

A geographical class was equally interesting. "How many counties hasPennsylvania?" sent five persons to their seats before it was answeredcorrectly. Others succeeded in locating such queer names asPopocatepetl, Martinique, Ashtabula, Rhodesia, Orkney, Comanche. 

A little later the last spelling class was held. It was open toeverybody. The line was already stretched across the schoolroom whenLyman Mertzheimer, home for a few days of vacation, entered theschoolhouse. 

"Oh, dear, " thought Amanda, "what does he want here? I'd rather dowithout his fifteen cents! He expects to make a show and win the prizefrom every one else. "

Lyman, indeed, swaggered down the room and entered the line, bearingthe old air of superiority. "I'll show them how to spell, " he thoughtas he took his place. Spelling had been his strong forte in the olddays of school, and it was soon evident that he retained his formerability. The letters of the most confusing words fell from his lips asthough the very pages of the spelling-book were engraved upon hisbrain. He held his place until the contest had ruled out all but twobeside himself. Then he looked smilingly at Amanda and reared his headin new dignity and determination. 

"Stelliform, the shape of a star, " submitted the teacher. The word fellto Lyman. He was visibly hesitant. Was it stelli or stella?

Bringing his knowledge of Latin into service, he was inclined to thinkit was stella. He began, "S-t-e-l-l--"

He looked uncertainly at one of his friends who was seated in the frontseat. He, also, was a champion speller. 

"Oh, if Joe would only help me!" thought the speller. 

As if telepathy were possible, Joe raised the forefinger of his lefthand to his eye, looked at Lyman with a meaning glance that told himwhat he craved to know. 

"Iform, " finished Lyman in sure tones. 

"Correct. "

"That was clever of Joe, " thought the cheat as the teacher gave out aword to one of the three contestants. "I just caught his sign in time. Nobody noticed it. "

But he reckoned without the observant teacher of Crow Hill school. Amanda, seated in the front of the room and placed so she half facedthe audience and with one little turn of her head could view thespellers, had seen the cheating process and understood itssignificance. The same trick had been attempted by some of her pupilsseveral times during the monthly spelling tests she held for thetraining of her classes. 

"The cheat! The big cheat!" she thought, her face flushing with anger. "How I hope he falls down on the next word he gets!"

However, the punishment he deserved was not meted out to him. LymanMertzheimer outspelled his opponents and stood alone on the platform, asmiling victor. 

"The cheat! The contemptible cheat!" hammered in Amanda's brain. 

After the distribution of prizes, cheap reprint editions of well-knownbooks, an auctioneer stepped on the platform and drew from a corner abushel basket of packages of various sizes and shapes. 

"Oyez, Oyez, " he called in true auctioneer style, "we have here abushel of good things, all to be sold, sight unseen, to the highestbidder. I understand each package contains something good to eat, packed and contributed by the pupils of this school. The proceeds ofthe sale are to be used to purchase good books for the school libraryfor the pupils to read. So, folks, bid lively and don't be afraid torun a little risk. You'll get more fun from the package you buy thanyou've had for a long time, I'll warrant. "

With much talk and gesticulation the spirited bidding was kept up untilevery package was sold. Shouts of joy came from the. Country boys whenone opened a box filled with ten candy suckers and distributed themamong the crowd. Other bidders won candy, cake, sandwiches, and loudwas the laughter when a shoe-box was sold for a dollar, opened andfound to contain a dozen raw sweet potatoes. 

After the fun of the auction had died down all rose and sang "The Star-Spangled Banner, " and the Spelling Bee was over. 

The audience soon began to leave. Laughing girls and boys started downthe dark country roads. Carriages and automobiles carried many awayuntil a mere handful of people were left in the little schoolhouse. 

Lyman Mertzheimer lingered. He approached Amanda, exchanged greetingswith her and asked, "May I walk home with you? I have something to tellyou. "

"Oh, I suppose so, " she replied, not very graciously. The dishonestmethod of gaining a prize still rankled in her. Lyman walked about theroom impatiently, looking idly at the drawings and other work of thechildren displayed above the blackboards. 

A moment later Martin Landis came up to Amanda. He had been settingchairs in their places, gathering singing-books and putting the room inorder. 

"Well, Manda, " he said, "it was a grand success! Everything went offfine, lots of fun for all. And I heard Hershey, the director, tell hiswife that you certainly know how to conduct a Spelling Bee. "

"Oh, did he say that?" The news pleased her. "But I'm glad it's over. "

"I guess you are. There, we're all fixed up now. I'll send one of theboys over next week with the team to take back the borrowed chairs. I'll walk home with you, Manda. What's Lyman Mertzheimer hanging aroundfor? Soon as those people by the door leave, we can lock up and go. "

"Why--Martin--thank you--but Lyman asked to walk home with me. "

"Oh! All right, " came the calm reply. "I'll see you again. Good-night, Amanda. "

"Good-night, Martin. "

She looked after him as he walked away, the plumed knight of hercastles in Spain. She had knighted him that day long ago when he hadput out the fire and kissed her hand, and during the interval of yearsthat childish affection had grown in her heart. In her thoughts he wasstill "My Martin. " But the object of that long-abiding affection showedall too plainly that he was not cognizant of what was in the heart ofhis childhood's friend. To him she was still "Just Amanda, " goodcomrade, sincere friend. 

Fortunately love and hope are inseparable. Amanda thought frequently ofthe verse, "God above is great to grant as mighty to make, and createsthe love to reward the love. " It was not always so, she knew, but shehoped it would be so for her. Martin Landis, unselfish, devoted to hispeople, honest as a dollar, true as steel--dear Martin, how she wantedto walk home with him that night of the Spelling Bee instead of goingwith Lyman Mertzheimer!

The voice of the latter roused her from her revery. "I say, Amanda, arewe going to stay here all night? Why in thunder can't those fools gohome so you can lock the door and go! And I say, Amanda, don't youthink Martin Landis is letting himself grow shabby and seedy? He'scertainly settling into a regular clodhopper. He shuffled along like ahecker to-night. I don't believe he ever has his clothes pressed. "

"Martin's tired to-night, " she defended, her eyes flashing fire. "Heworked in the fields all day, helping his father. Then he and one ofhis brothers took their team and went after some chairs I wanted toborrow for the Spelling Bee. They arranged the room for me, too. "

"Oh, I see. Poor fellow! It must be the very devil to be poor!"

The words angered the girl. "Well, " she flared out, "if you want totalk about Martin Landis, you go home. I'll get home without you. "

"Now, Amanda, " he pleaded sweetly, "don't get huffy, please! I want youin a good humor. I have something great to tell you. Can't you take abit of joshing? Of course, it's fine in you to defend your old friends. But I didn't really mean to say anything mean about Martin. You do gethot so easily. "

"It must be my red-hair-temper, " she said, laughing. "I do fly off thehandle, as Phil says, far too soon. "

"Shall we go now?" Lyman asked as the last lingering visitors left theroom. 

The lights were put out, the schoolhouse door locked, and Amanda andLyman started off on the dark country road. Peals of merry laughterfloated back to them occasionally from a gay crowd of young people whowere also going home from the Spelling Bee. But there were none nearenough to hear what most wonderful thing Lyman had to say to Amanda. 

"Amanda, " he lost no time in broaching the subject, "I said I havesomething to tell you. I meant, to ask you. "

"Yes? What is it?"

"Will you marry me?"

Before the astonished girl could answer, he put his arms about her anddrew her near, as though there could be no possibility of anunfavorable reply. 

She flung away from him, indignant. "Lyman, " she said, with hot angerin her voice, "you better wait once till I say yes before you trythat!"

"Why, Amanda! Now, sweetheart, none of that temper! You can't get crosswhen I ask you anything like that! I want to marry you. I've alwayswanted it. I picked you for my sweetheart when we were both children. I've always thought you're the dandiest girl I could find. Ever sincewe were kids I've planned of the time when we were old enough to marry. I just thought to-night, when I saw several fellows looking at you asthough they'd like to have you, I better get busy and ask you beforesome other chap turns your head. I'll be good to you and treat youright, Amanda. Of course, I'm in college yet, but I'll soon be through, and then I expect to get a good position, probably in some big city. We'll get out of this slow country section and live where there's somelife and excitement. You know I'll be rich some day, and then you'llhave everything you want. Come on, honey, tell me, are we engaged?"

"Well, I should say not!" the girl returned with cruel frankness. "Youtalk as though I were a piece of furniture you could just walk into astore and select and buy and then own! You've been taking immeasurablymuch for granted if you have been thinking all those things you justspoke about. "

"But what don't you like about me?" The young man was unable to graspthe fact that his loyal love could be unrequited. "I'm decent. "

"Well, that's very important, but there's more than that necessary whentwo persons think of marrying. You asked me, --I'll tell you--I nevercared for you. I don't like your principles, your way of sneering atpoor people, your laxity in many things--"

"For instance?" he asked. 

"For instance: the way you spelled stelliform to-night and won a prizefor it. "

"Oh, that!" He laughed as though discovered in a huge joke. "Did yousee that? Why, that was nothing. It was only a cheap book I got for theprize. I'll give the book back to you if that will square me in youreyes. "

"But don't you see, can't you see, it wasn't the cheap book thatmattered? It's the thought that you'd be dishonest, a cheat. "

"Well, " he snatched at the least straw, "here's your chance to reformme. If you marry me I'll be a different person. I'd do anything foryou. You know love is a great miracle worker. Won't you give me achance to show you how nearly I can live up to your standards andideals?"

Amanda, moved by woman's quick compassion, spurred by sympathy, andfeeling the exaltation such an appeal always carries, felt her heartsoften toward the man beside her. But her innate wisdom and her ownstrong hold on her emotions prevented her from doing any rash orfoolish thing. Her voice was gentle as she answered, but there was afinality in it that the man should have noted. 

"I'm sorry, Lyman, but I can't do as you say. We can't will whom wewill love. I know you and I would never be happy together. "

"But perhaps it will come to you. " He was no easy loser. "I'll justkeep on hoping that some day you'll care for me. "

"Don't do that. I'm positive, sure, that I'll never love you. You and Iwere never made for each other. "

But he refused to accept her answer as final. "Who knows, Amanda, " hesaid lightly, yet with all the feeling he was capable of at that time, "perhaps you'll love and marry Lyman Mertzheimer yet! Stranger thingsthan that have happened. I'm sorry about that word. It seemed just likea good joke to catch on to the right spelling that way and beat theothers in the match. You are too strict, Amanda, too closely bound bythe Lancaster County ideas of right and wrong. They are too narrow forthese days. "

"Oh, no!" she said quickly. "Dishonesty is never right!"

"Well, " he laughed, "have it your way! See how docile I have becomealready! You'll reform me yet, I bet!"

At the door of her home he bade her good-night and went off whistling, feeling only a slight unhappiness at her refusal to marry him. It was, he felt, but a temporary rebuff. She would capitulate some day. Hisconsummate egotism buoyed his spirits and he went down the roaddreaming of the day he'd marry Amanda Reist and of the wonderful gownsand jewels he would lavish upon her. 

CHAPTER IX

AT THE MARKET

The words of Lyman Mertzheimer lingered with Amanda for many days. Hehad seemed so confident, so arrogantly sure, of her ultimate surrenderto his desire to marry her. Soon after the Spelling Bee he returned tohis college and the girl sighed in relief that his presence was notannoying her. But she reckoned without the efficient United States mailservice. The rejected lover wrote lengthy, friendly letters which sheanswered at long intervals by short, impersonal little notes. 

"Oh, yea, " she said to herself one day, "why does it have to be LymanMertzheimer that falls in love with me? But he might as well fall outas soon as he can. I'll never marry him. I read somewhere that one girlsaid, 'I'd rather love what I cannot have, than have what I cannotlove, ' and that's just the way I feel about it. I won't marry LymanMertzheimer if I have to die Amanda Reist!"

As soon as her school term was ended Amanda entered into the work ofthe farm. She helped Millie as much as possible in a determined effortto forget all about the man who wanted her and whom she did not want, and, more than that, to think less about her knight, her Sir Galahad, who evidently had no time to waste on girls. 

Millie appreciated Amanda's help. "There's one thing sure, " she saidproudly to Mrs. Reist, "our Amanda ain't lazy. It seems to abody she'sworkin' more'n ever this here spring. I guess mebbe she thinks shebetter get all the ins and outs o' housework so as she can do it righttill she gets married once. "

"Ach, I guess Amanda ain't thinkin' of marryin' yet, " said the mother. 

"You fool yourself, " was Millie's wise answer. "Is there ever a womanborn that don't think 'bout it? Women ain't made that way. There ain'tone so ugly nor poor, nor dumb, that don't hanker about it sometimes, even if she knows it ain't for her. "

Here the entrance of Amanda cut short the discussion. 

"Millie, " asked the girl, "shall I go to market with you this week?"

"Why, yes. I'd be glad for you. Of course, you always help get thingsready here and your Uncle Amos drives me in and helps to get thebaskets emptied and the things on the counters, but I could use you insellin'. "

"Then I'll come. This lovely spring weather makes me want to go. I liketo see the people come in to buy flowers and early vegetables. It'slike reading a page out of a romance to see the expressions on thefaces of the city people as they buy the products of the country. "

"Ach, I don't know what you mean. I guess you got too much finelearnin' for me. But all I can see in market is people runnin' up oneaisle and down the other to see where the onions or radishes is thecheapest. "

Amanda laughed. "That's part of the romance. It proves they are human. "

The following Saturday Amanda accompanied Millie to the Lancastermarket to help dispose of the assortment of farm products the Reiststall always carried. 

Going to market in Lancaster is an interesting experience. In additionto the famous street markets, where farmers display their produce alongthe busy central streets of the city, there are indoor markets wherecrowds move up and down and buy butter, eggs and vegetables, and suchPennsylvania Dutch specialties as mince meat, cup cheese, sauerkraut, pannhaus, apple butter, fresh sausage and smear cheese. While lovers offlowers choose from the many old-fashioned varieties--straw flowers, zinnias, dahlias. 

The Reist stall was one of the prominent stalls of the market. Twiceevery week Millie "tended market" there. On the day before marketseveral members of the Reist household were kept busy preparing all theproduce, and the next day before dawn Uncle Amos hitched the horse tothe big covered wagon and he and Millie, sometimes Amanda and Philip, drove over the dark country roads to the city. 

Amanda enjoyed the work. She arranged the glistening domes of cupcheese, placed the fresh eggs in small baskets, uncovered one of thebags of dried corn untied the cloth cover from a gray earthen crock ofapple butter, and then stood and looked about the market house. Shefelt the human interest it never failed to waken in her. Behind manystalls stood women in the quaint garb of the Church of the Brethren orMennonite. But quaintest of all were the Amish. 

The Amish are the plainest and quaintest of the plain sects thatflourish in Lancaster County. Unlike their kindred sects, who wearplain garb, they are partial to gay colors in dress. So it is nounusual sight to see Amish women wearing dresses of such colors asforest green, royal purple, king's blue or garnet. But the gay dress isalways plainly made, after the model of their sect, generally partiallysubdued by a great black apron, a black pointed cape over the shouldersand a big black bonnet which almost hides the face of its wearer andnecessitates a full-face gaze to disclose the identity of the woman. The strings of the thick white lawn cap are invariably tied in a flatbow that lies low on the chest. 

The Amish men are equally interesting in appearance. They wear broad-brimmed hats with low crowns. Their clothes are so extremely plain thatbuttons, universally deemed indispensable, are taboo and their place isfilled by the inconspicuous hook-and-eye, which style has brought uponthem the sobriquet, "Hook-and-eye people. "

However, interesting as the men and women of the Amish faith are intheir dress, they are eclipsed in that aspect by the Amish children. These are invariably dressed as exact replicas of their parents. Littleboys, mere children of three and four years, wear long trousers, tightjackets, blocked hair and broad-brimmed, low-crowned hats. Little girlsof tender years wear brightly colored woolen dresses, one-piece apronsof black sateen or colored chambray, and the picturesque big stiffbonnets of the faith. 

A stranger in Lancaster County seeing an Amish family group mighteasily wonder if he had not been magically transported to some secludedspot of Europe, far from the beaten paths of modernity. But in thecosmopolitan population of Lancaster the Amish awakes a mere moment'sinterest to the majority of observers. If a bit of envy steals into theheart of the little Amish girl who stands at the Square and sees achild in white organdie and pink sash tripping along with her feet insilk socks and white slippers, of what avail is it? The hold of familycustoms is strong among them and the world and its allurements andvanities are things to be left stringently alone. 

To Amanda Reist, the Amish children made strong appeal. Their presencewas one of the reasons she enjoyed tending market. Many stories shewove in her imagination about the little lads in their long trousersand the tiny girls in their big bonnets. 

But when the marketing was in full swing Amanda had scant time for anyweaving of imaginary stories. Purchasers stopped at the stall and in ashort time the produce was sold, with the exception of cheese and eggswhich had been ordered the previous week. 

"Ach, " complained Millie, "now if these people would fetch this cheeseand the eggs we'd be done and could go home. Our baskets are all emptybut them. But it seems like some of these here city folks can't get tomarket till eight o'clock. They have to sleep till seven. "

She was interrupted by the approach of a young girl, fashionablydressed. 

"Why, " exclaimed Amanda, "here comes Isabel Souders, one of theMillersville girls. "

Isabel Souders was a girl of the butterfly type, made for sunshine, beauty, but not intended, apparently, for much practical use. Like thebutterfly, her excuse for being was her beauty. Pretty, with dark hair, Amanda sometimes had envied her during days at the Normal School. Welldressed, petted and spoiled by well-to-do parents who catered to herwhims, she seemed, nevertheless, an attractive girl in manner as wellas in appearance. At school something like friendship had sprung upbetween Amanda and the city girl, no doubt each attracted to the otherby the very directness of their opposite personalities and tastes. 

Isabel Souders was a year younger than Amanda. She lacked all of thelatter's ambition. Music and Art and having a good time were the thingsthat engrossed her attention. At Millersville she had devoted her timeto the pursuit of the three. Professors and hall teachers knew that themoving spirit of many harmless pranks was Isabel, but she had a way ofglossing things, shedding blame without causing innocent ones tosuffer, that somehow endeared her to students and teachers alike. 

That market day she came laughing down the market aisle to greetAmanda. 

"Hello, Amanda! What do you think of me, here at this early hour of theday? Pin a medal on me! But it was so glorious a day I felt like doingsomething out of the ordinary. I promised one of the Lancaster girlswho is at school now that I'd ask you about the pink moccasins. Arethey out yet?"

"Just out. Why?"

"This girl wants one for her collection. I remembered you had a perfectone in your lot of flowers at school and I said I'd see you aboutthem. "

"They'll be at their best next Saturday. "

"Next Saturday--dear, Helen's going home over the week-end. Oh, could Icome out and get one for her?"

"Yes. I'll be glad to take you where they grow. I have a special haunt. If no botanizers or flower hunters find my spot, we'll get a beauty foryour friend. "

"You're the same old darling, Amanda, " said the girl sweetly. "ThenI'll be out to your house Saturday afternoon. How do I get there?"

"Take the car to Oyster Point, then walk till you find a mail-box withour name on it, and there I'll be found. "

"Thank you, Amanda, you are a dear! I'll be there for the pinkmoccasin. Won't it be romantic to hunt for such lovely things as theyare? You're perfectly sweet to bother about it and offer to take me. "

"Oh, I don't mind doing that. I'll enjoy it. Finding the wild pinklady-slipper is a real joy. "

Unselfish Amanda, she could not dream of what would come out of thatlittle hunt for the pink moccasin!

CHAPTER X

PINK MOCCASINS

The pink moccasin, the largest of our native orchids, is easily thequeen of the rare woodland spot in which it grows. Its flower of brightrose pink, veined with red, is held with the stalwart erectness of anIndian, whose love of solitude and quiet woods it shares. 

To Amanda it was one of the loveliest flowers of the woods. She alwayscounted the days as the time drew near when the moccasins bloomed. 

When Isabel Souders arrived at the Reist farmhouse she found Amandaready with basket and trowel for the lady-slipper hunt. Amanda had puton a simple white dress and green-and-white sun hat. She looked withbewilderment at the city girl's attire, but said nothing just then. They stopped long enough for Isabel to meet the mistress of the homeand then they went down the road to the Crow Hill schoolhouse. 

Suddenly Isabel stood still and panted. "Oh--Manda--you _can_ run!Have compassion on me. My hair will be all tumbled after such madwalking, and my organdie torn. "

"Hair!" echoed the country girl with a laugh. "Who thinks about hair ona moccasin hunt? You should not go flower hunting in city clothes. Withyour pink and white dress and lovely Dresden sash, silk stockings andlow shoes, you look more fit for a dance than a ramble after deep woodsflowers, such as moccasins. But we might as well go on now. "

She led the way across the school-yard, climbed nimbly over the railfence and laughed at Isabel's clumsy imitation of her. Pink azaleasgrew in great bushes of bloom throughout the woods. Isabel would havestopped to pick some but Amanda said, "That withers easily. Better pickthem when we come back. "

They followed a narrow path, so narrow that later the summer luxuriantgrowth of underbrush would almost obliterate it. But Amanda knew theway to her spot. Deeper into the woods they delved, past bowers of pinkazalea and closely growing branches of trees whose tender green foliagewas breaking into summer growth. The bright May sunshine drippedthrough the green and dappled the ground in little discs of gold. 

Suddenly the path led up-hill in a steep grade. Amanda stopped andleaned against a slender sapling. 

"Stand here and look up, " she invited. 

Isabel obeyed, her gaze traveling searchingly along the steep trail. 

"Oh, the beauties!" she cried as she discovered the pink flowers. "Thebeauties! Oh, there are more of them! And still more! Oh, Amanda!"

Before them was Amanda's haunt of the pink moccasin. From the lowunderbrush of spring growth rose several dozen gorgeously beautifulpink lady-slippers, each alone on a thick stem with two broad leavesspreading their green beauty near the base. What miracle had broughtthe rare shy plants so near the dusty road where rattling wagons andgliding automobiles sped on their busy way?

"May I pick them?" asked the city girl. 

"Yes, but only one root. I'll dig that up with the trowel. That's foryour friend's botany specimen. The rest we'll pull up gently and we'llget flower, stem and leaves and leave the roots in the ground for otheryears. I never pick all of the flowers. I leave some here in the woods--it seems they belong here and I can't bring myself to walk off withevery last one of them in my arms and leave the hill desolate. "

"You _are_ a queer girl!" was the frank statement of the citygirl. "But you're a dear, just the same. "

They picked a number of the largest flowers. 

"That's enough, " Amanda declared. 

Isabel laughed. "I'd take every one if it were my haunt. "

"And then other people might come here after some and find the placerobbed of all its blooms. "

"Oh, " said the other girl easily, "I look out for Isabel. Now, please, may I pick some of that pretty wild azalea?" she asked teasingly asthey came down the hill. 

"Help yourself. That isn't rare. You couldn't take all of that if youtried. "

So Isabel gathered branches of the pink bloom until her arms werefilled with it and the six moccasins in her hand almost overshadowed. 

As the two girls reached the edge of the woods and climbed over thefence into the school-yard Martin Landis came walking down the road. 

"Hello, " he called gaily. "Been robbing the woods, Amanda?"

"Aren't they lovely?" she asked. Then when he drew near she introducedhim to the girl beside her. 

Martin Landis was not a blind man. A pretty girl, dark-eyed and dusky-haired, her arms full of pink azaleas, her lips parted in a smile abovethe flowers, and that smile given to him--it was too pretty a pictureto fail in making an impression upon him. 

Amanda saw the look of keen interest in the eyes of the girl and herheart felt heavy. What fortune had brought the two together? Had theFates designed the meeting of Isabel and Martin? "Oh, now I've doneit!" thought Amanda. "Isabel wants what she wants and generally getsit. Pray heaven, she won't want 'My Martin!'"

Similar thoughts disturbed her as they stepped on the sunny road oncemore and stood there talking. With a gay laugh Isabel took the finestpink moccasin from her bunch and handed it to Martin. "Here, I'll begenerous, " she said in friendly tones. 

"Thank you, Miss Souders. " The reply was accompanied with a smile ofpleasure. 

A low laugh rippled from the girl's red lips. Amanda's ears tingled soshe did not understand the exchange of light talk. The fear andjealousy in her heart dulled her senses to all save them, but shelaughed, said good-bye, and hid her feelings as she and Isabel wentdown the road to the Reist farmhouse. 

"Amanda, " the other girl said effusively, "what a fine young man! Is heyour beau?"

"No. Certainly not! I have no beau. I've known Martin Landis ever sinceI was born, almost. He lives down the road a piece. He's a nice chap. "

"Splendid! Fine! Such eyes, such wonderfully expressive gray eyes Ihave never seen. And he has such a strong face. Of course, his clothesare a bit shabby. He'd be great if he fixed up. "

"Yes, " Amanda agreed mechanically. She was ill-pleased with thedissection of her knight. 

Mrs. Reist, with true rural, Pennsylvania Dutch hospitality, invitedIsabel to have supper with them, an invitation readily accepted. At theclose of the meal Isabel said suddenly to Mrs. Reist, "How would youlike to have me board with you for a few weeks--a month, probably?"

"Why, I don't know. All right, I guess, if Millie, here, don't think itmakes too much work. Poor Millie's got the worst of all the work to do. I ain't so strong, and there's much always to do. Of course, Amandahelps, but none of us do as much as Millie. "

"But me, don't I get paid for it, and paid good?" asked the hired girl, sending a loving glance at Mrs. Reist. "Far as I go it's all right tohave Isabel come for a while. Mebbe she can help, too, sometimes withthe work. "

"I wouldn't be much help, I'm afraid. I never peeled a potato in mylife. "

Millie looked at the girl with slightly concealed disfavor. "Why, that's a funny way, now, to bring up a girl! I guess it's time youlearn such things once! You dare come, and I'll show you how to do alittle work. But why do you want to board when your folks live just inLancaster?"

"Father and Mother are going to the Elks' Convention and to California. They expect to be gone about a month. I was going to stay in Lancasterwith my aunt, but I just thought how much nicer it would be to spendthat time in the country. "

"Well, I guess, too!" Millie was quick to understand how one wouldnaturally prefer the country to the city. 

So it was settled that Isabel Souders was to spend June at the Reistfarmhouse. Everybody concerned appeared well pleased with thearrangement. But Amanda's heart hurt. "Why did I take her for thosemoccasins?" she thought drearily after Isabel had gone back to the citywith her precious flowers. "I know Martin will fall in love with herand she with him. Oh, I'm a mean, detestable thing! But I wish she'd goto the coast with her parents!"

CHAPTER XI

THE BOARDER

The big automobile that brought Isabel Souders to the Reist farmhouseone day early in June brought with her a trunk, a suitcase, a bag, anumbrella and a green parasol. 

Aunt Rebecca was visiting there that day and she followed Amanda to thefront door to receive the boarder. 

"My goodness, " came the exclamation as the luggage was carried in, "isthat girl comin' here for good, with all _that_ baggage? And whatdid you let her come here for on a Friday? That's powerful bad luck!"

"For me, " thought Amanda as she went to meet Isabel. 

"See, " the newcomer pointed to her trunk, "I brought some of mypretties along. I'll have to make hay while the sun shines. I'll haveto make the most of this opportunity to win the heart of some countryyouth. Amanda, dear, wouldn't I be a charming farmer's wife? Can youvisualize me milking cows, for instance?"

"No, " answered Amanda, "I'd say that you were cut out for a differentrole. " There was a deeper meaning in the country girl's words than theflighty city girl could read. 

"Just the same, " went on the newcomer, "I'm going to have one wonderfultime in the country. You are such a dear to want me here and to take meinto the family. I want to do just all the exciting things one readsabout as belonging to life in the country. I am eager to climb treesand chase chickens and be a regular country girl for a month. "

"Then I hope you brought some old clothes, " was the practical reply. 

"Not old, but plain little dresses for hard wear. I knew I'd needthem. "

Later, as Amanda watched the city girl unpack, she smiled ruefully atthe plain little dresses for hard wear. Her observant eye told her thatthe little dresses of gingham and linen must have cost more than herown "best dresses. " It was a very lavish wardrobe Isabel had selectedfor her month on the farm. Silk stockings and crepe de chine underwearwere matched in fineness by the crepe blouses, silk dresses, airyorgandies, a suit of exquisite tailoring and three hats for as manydifferent costumes. The whole outfit would have been adequate andappropriate for parades on the Atlantic City boardwalk or a saunterdown Peacock Alley of a great hotel, but it was entirely too elaboratefor a Lancaster County farmhouse. 

Millie, running in to offer her services in unpacking, stood speechlessat the display of clothes. "Why, " she almost stammered, "what in theworld do you want with all them fancy things here? Them's partyclothes, ain't?"

"No. " Isabel shook her head. "Some are to wear in the evening and theplainer ones are afternoon dresses, and the linen and gingham ones arefor morning wear. "

"Well, I be! What don't they study for society folks! A different dressfor every time of the day! What would you think if you had to dresslike I do, with my calico dress on all day, only when I wear my lawnfor cool or in winter a woolen one for warm?"

Millie went off, puzzled at the ways of society. 

"Is she just a servant?" asked Isabel when they heard her heavy treaddown the stairs. 

"She isn't _just_ anything! She's a jewel! Mother couldn't dowithout Millie. We've had her almost twenty years. We can leaveeverything to her and know it will be taken care of. Why, Millie's asmuch a part of the family as though she really belonged to it. WhenPhil and I were little she was always baking us cookies in the shape ofmen or birds, and they always had big raisin eyes. Millie's a treasureand we all think of her as being one of the family. "

"Mother says that's just the reason she won't hire any PennsylvaniaDutch girls; they always expect to be treated as one of the family. Wehave colored servants. You can teach them their place. "

"I see. I suppose so, " agreed Amanda, while she mentally appraised thegirl before her and thought, "Isabel Souders, a little more democracywouldn't be amiss for you. "

Although the boarder who came to the Reist farmhouse was unlike any ofthe members of the family, she soon won her way into their affections. Her sweet tenderness, her apparent childlike innocence, appealed to thesimple, unsuspicious country folk. Shaping her actions in accordancewith the old Irish saying, "It's better to have the dogs of the streetfor you than against you, " Isabel made friends with Millie and went sofar as to pare potatoes for her at busy times. Philip and Uncle Amoswere non-committal beyond a mere, "Oh, I guess she's all right. Goodcompany, and nice to have around. "

The first Sunday of the boarder's stay in the country she invitedherself to accompany the family to Mennonite church. Amanda appeared ina simple white linen dress and a semi-tailored black hat, but whenIsabel tripped down the stairs the daughter of the house was quiteeclipsed. Isabel's dark hair was puffed out becomingly about cheeksthat had added pink applied to them. In an airy orchid organdie dressand hat to match, white silk stockings and white buckskin pumps, shelooked ready for a garden party. According to all the ways of humannature more than one little Mennonite maid in that meeting-house musthave cast sidelong glances at the beautiful vision, and older membersof the plain sect must have thought the old refrain, "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!"

Aunt Rebecca was at church that morning and came to the Reist home fordinner. She sought out Millie in the kitchen and gave her unsolicited, frank opinion--"My goodness, I don't think much of that there Isabelfrom Lancaster! She's too much stuck up. Such a get-up for a Sunday andchurch like she has on to-day! She looks like a regular peacock. It'llgo good if she don't spoil our Amanda yet till she goes home. "

"Ach, I guess not. She's a little fancier than I like to see girls, butthen she's a nice girl and can't do Amanda no hurt. "

"She means herself too big, that's what! And them folks ain't the rightkind for Amanda to know. It might spite you all yet for takin' her into board. Next thing she'll be playin' round with some of the countryboys here, and mebbe take one that Amanda would liked to get. There'sno trustin' such gay dressers. I found that out long a'ready. "

"Ach, " said Millie, "I guess Amanda don't like none of the boys roundhere in Crow Hill. "

"How do you know? Guess Amanda ain't no different from the rest of usin petticoats. You just wait once and see how long it goes till theboys commence to hang round this fancy Isabel. "

Millie hadn't long to wait. Through Mrs. Landis, who had been toMennonite church and noticed a stranger with the Reist family, MartinLandis soon knew of the boarder. That same evening he dressed in hisbest clothes. He had not forgotten the dark eyes of Isabel smiling tohim over the pink azaleas. 

"Where you goin', Mart?" asked his mother. "Over to Landisville tochurch?"

"No--just out for a little while. "

"Take me with, " coaxed the littlest Landis, now five years old and theninth in line. 

"Ach, go on!" spoke up an older Landis boy, "what d'you think Martwants with you? He's goin' to see his girl. Na, ah!" he cried gleefullyand clapped his hands, "I guessed it! Look at him blushin', Mom!"

Martin made a grab for the boy and shook him. "You've got too muchromantic nonsense in your head, " he told the teasing brother. "Nextthing you know you'll be a poet!" He released the squirming boy andrubbed a finger round the top of his collar as he turned to his mother. 

"I'm just going down to Reists' a while. I met Miss Souders a few weeksago and thought it would be all right for me to call. The country mustseem quiet to her after living in the city. "

"Of course it's all right, Martin, " agreed his mother. "Just you goahead. "

But after he left, Mrs. Landis sat a long while on the porch, thinkingabout her eldest boy, her first-born. "He's goin' to see that dollright as soon as she comes near, and yet Amanda he don't go to see whenshe's alone, not unless he wants her to go for a walk or something likethat. If only he'd take to Amanda! She's the nicest girl in LancasterCounty, I bet! But he looks right by her. This pretty girl, in herfancy clothes and with her flippy ways--I know she's flippy, I watchedher in church--she takes his eye, and if she matches her dress she'llgo to his head like hard cider. Ach, sometimes abody feels like puttin'blinders on your boys till you get 'em past some women. "

A little later the troubled mother walked back to the side porch, whereher husband was enjoying the June twilight while he kept an eye on fourof the younger members of the family as they were quietly engaged intheir Sabbath recreation of piecing together picture puzzles. 

"Martin, " she said as she sat beside the man, "I've been thinkin' aboutour Mart. "

"Yes? What?"

"Why, I feel we ain't doin' just right by him. You know he don't likefarmin' at all. He's anxious to get more schoolin' but he ain'tcomplainin'. He wants to fit himself so he can get in some office orbank in the city and yet here he works on the farm helpin' us like hereally liked to do that kind of work. Now he's of age, and since Walterand Joe are big enough to help you good and we're gettin' on our feet alittle since the nine babies are out of the dirt, as they say still, why don't we give Martin a chance once?"

"Well, why not? I'm agreed, Ma. He's been workin' double, and when I'mlaid up with that old rheumatism he runs things good as I could. We gotthe mortgage paid off now. How'd it be if we let him have the tobaccomoney? I was thinkin' of puttin' in the electric lights and fixin'things up a little with it, but if you'd rather give it to Mart--"

"I would. Much rather! I used oil lamps this long and I guess I canmanage with them a while yet. "

"All right, but as soon as we can we'll get others. Mart's young andought to have his chance, like you say. I don't know what for he'drather sit over a lot o' books in some hot little office or stand in astuffy bank and count other people's money when he could work on a farmand be out in the open air, but then we ain't all alike and I guessit's a good thing we ain't. We'll tell him he dare have time for goin'to Lancaster to school if he wants. Mebbe he'll be a lawyer orpresident some day, ain't, Ma?"

"Ach, Martin, I don't think that would be so much. I'd rather have mychildren just plain, common people like we are. Mart's gone up toReists' this evening. "

"So? To see Amanda, I guess. "

"Her or that boarder from Lancaster. "

"That ruffly girl we saw this morning?"

"Yes. "

"Ach, don't you worry, Ma. Our Mart won't run after that kind of agirl! Anyhow, not for long. "

At that moment the object of their discussion was approaching the Reistfarmhouse. The entire household, Millie included, sat on the big frontporch as the caller came down the road. 

"Look, " said Philip, and began to sing softly. "Here comes a beaua-courting, a-courting---"

"Phil!" chided Millie and Amanda in one breath. 

"Don't worry, Sis, " said the irrepressible youth, "we'll graduallyefface ourselves, one by one--we're very thoughtful. I'll flip a pennyto see whether Isabel stays or you. Heads you win, tails she does. "

"Phil!"

The vehement protest from his sister did not deter the boy from tossingthe coin, which promptly rolled off the porch and fell into a bed ofgeraniums. 

"See, " he continued, "even the Fates are uncertain which one of youwill win. I suppose the battle's to the strongest this time. Oh, hello, Martin, " he said graciously as the caller turned in at the gate, "Niceday, ain't it?"

"What ails the boy?" asked Martin, laughing as he raised his hat andjoined the group on the porch. 

"Martin, " said Amanda after he had greeted Isabel and took his place ona chair near her, "you'd do me an everlasting favor if you'd turn thatbrother of mine up on your knees and spank him. "

"Now that I'd like to see!" spoke up Millie. 

"You would, Millie? You'd like to see me get that? After all the coalI've carried out of the cellar for you, and the other ways I've helpedmake your burden lighter--you'd sit and see me humiliated! Ingratitude!Even Millie turns against me. I'm going away from this crowd where I'mnot appreciated. "

"Oh, you needn't affect such an air of martyrdom, " his sister told him. "I know you have a book half read; you want to get back to that. "

"Say, " said Uncle Amos, "these women, if they don't beat all! Theyferret all the weak spots out a man. I say it ain't right. "

Later in the evening the older members of the household left the porchand the trio of eternal trouble--two girls and a man--were left alone. It was then the city girl exerted her most alluring wiles to beentertaining. The man had eyes and ears for her only. As Mrs. Landisonce said, he looked past Amanda and did not see her. She sat in theshadow and bit her lip as her plumed knight paid court before thebeauty and charm of another. The heart of the simple country girlached. But Isabel smiled, flattered and charmed and did it so adeptlythat instead of being obnoxious to the country boy it thrilled andheld him like the voice of a Circe. They never noticed Amanda'ssilence. She could lean back in her chair and dream. She rememberedthe story of Ulysses and his wax-filled ears that saved him from thesirens; the tale of Orpheus, who drowned their alluring voices byplaying on his instrument a music sweeter than theirs--ah, that washer only hope! That somewhere, deep in the heart of the man she lovedwas a music surpassing in sweetness the music of the shallow girl'svoice which now seemed to sway him to her will. "If he is a man worthloving, " she thought, "he'll see through the surface glamour of a girllike that. " It was scant consolation, for she knew that only toofrequently do noble men give their lives into the precarious keepingof frivolous, butterfly women. 

"Why so pensive?" the voice of Isabel pierced her revery. 

"Me--oh, I haven't had a chance to get a word in edgewise. "

"I was telling Mr. Landis he should go on with his studies. Acorrespondence course would be splendid for him if he can't get awayfrom the farm for regular college work. "

"I'm going to write about that course right away, " Martin said. "I'mglad I had this talk with you, Miss Souders. I'll do as you suggest--study nights for a time and then try to get into a bank in Lancaster. It is so kind of you to offer to see your father about a position. I'dfeel in my element if I ever held a position in a real bank. I'll beindebted to you for life. "

"Oh, " she disclaimed any credit, "your own merits would cause you tomake good in the position. I am sure Father will be glad to help you. He has helped several young men to find places. All he asks in returnis that they make good. I know you'd do that. "

When Martin Landis said good-night his earnest, "May I come again--soon?" was addressed to Isabel. She magnanimously put an arm aboutAmanda before she replied, "Certainly. We'll be glad to have you. "

"Oh, " thought Amanda, "I'll be hating her pretty soon and then how willI ever endure having her around for a whole month! I'm a mean, jealouscat! Let Martin Landis choose whom he wants--I should worry!"

She said good-night with a stoical attempt at indifference, therebylaying the first block of the hard, high barricade she meant to buildabout her heart. She would be no child to cry for the moon, theunattainable. If her heart bled what need to make a public exhibitionof it! From that hour on the front porch she turned her back on hergay, merry, laughing girlhood and began the journey in the realm ofwomanhood, where smiles hide sorrows and the true feelings of the heartare often masked. 

The determination to meet events with dignity and poise came to her aidinnumerable times during the days that followed. When Martin came tothe Reist farmhouse with the news that his father was going to give himmoney for a course in a Business School in Lancaster it was to Isabelhe told the tidings and from her he received the loudest handclaps. 

The city girl, rosy and pretty in her morning dresses, ensconcedherself each day on the big couch hammock of the front porch to wave toMartin Landis as he passed on his way to the trolley that took him tohis studies in the city. Sometimes she ran to the gate and tossed him arose for his buttonhole. Later in the day she was at her post again, ready to ask pleasantly as he passed, "Well, how did school go to-day?"Such seemingly spontaneous interest spurred the young man to greaterthings ahead. 

Many evenings Martin sat on the Reist porch and he and Isabel laughedand chatted and sometimes half-absent-mindedly referred a question toAmanda. Frequently that young lady felt herself to be a fifth wheel andsought some diversion. Excuses were easy to find; the most palpable onewas accepted with calm credulity by the infatuated young people. 

One day, when three weeks of the boarder's stay were gone, LymanMertzheimer came home from college, bringing with him a green roadster, the gift of his wealthy, indulgent father. 

He drew up to the Reist house and tooted his horn until Amanda ran intothe yard to discover what the noise meant. 

"Good-morning, Lady Fair!" he called, laughing at her expression ofsurprise. "I thought I could make you come! Bump of curiosity is stillworking, I see. Wait, I'm coming in, " he called after her as she turnedindignantly and moved toward the house. 

"Please!" He called again as she halted, ashamed to be so lacking incordiality. "I want to see you. That's a cold, cruel way to greet afellow who's just come home from college and rushes over to see youfirst thing. "

He entered the yard and Amanda bade him, "Come up. Sit down, " as shetook a chair on the porch. "So you're back for the summer, Lyman. "

"Yes. Aren't you delighted?" He smiled at her teasingly. "I'm back tothe 'sauerkraut patch' again. Glory, I wish Dad would sell out and moveto some decent place. "

"Um, " she grunted, refraining from speech. 

"Yes. I loathe this Dutch, poky old place. The only reason I'm glad toever see it again is because you live here. That's the only excuse Ihave to be glad to see Lancaster County. And that reminds me, Amanda, have you forgotten what I told you at the Spelling Bee? Do you stillfeel you don't want to tackle the job of reforming me? Come, now, " hepleaded, "give a fellow a bit of hope to go on. "

"I told you no, Lyman. I don't change my mind so easily. "

"Oh, you naughty girl!" came Isabel's sweet voice as she drifted to theporch. "I looked all over the house for you, Amanda, and here I findyou entertaining a charming young man. "

Isabel was lovely as usual. Amanda introduced Lyman to her and as thehoneyed words fell from the lips of the city girl the country girlstood contemplating the pair before her. "That's the first time, " shethought, "I was glad to hear that voice. I do wish those two would beattracted to each other. They match in many ways. "

Lyman Mertzheimer was not seriously attracted to Isabel, but he was attimes a keen strategist and the moment he saw the city girl an idealodged in his brain. Here was a pretty girl who could, no doubt, easilybe made to accept attentions from him. By Jove, he'd make Amandajealous! He'd play with Isabel, shower attentions upon her until Amandawould see what she missed by snubbing a Mertzheimer!

The following week was a busy one for Isabel. Lyman danced attendanceevery day. He developed a sudden affection for Lancaster County andtook Isabel over the lovely roads of that Garden Spot. They visited theCloister at Ephrata, the museum of antiques at Manheim, the beautifulSprings Park at Lititz, the interesting, old-fashioned towns scatteredalong the road. Over state highways they sped along in his greenroadster, generally going like Jehu, furiously. The girl enjoyed theriding more than the society of the man. He was exulting in the thoughtthat he must be peeving Amanda. 

Nevertheless, at the end of Isabel's visit, Lyman was obliged toacknowledge to himself, "All my fooling round with the other girl neverphased Amanda! Kick me for a fool! I'll have to think up some other wayto make her take notice of me. "

Martin Landis came in for the small portion those days. How could hereally enjoy his evenings at the Reist house when Lyman Mertzheimer satthere like an evil presence with his smirking smile and his watchfuleyes ever open! Some of the zest went out of Martin's actions. Hisexuberance decreased. It was a relief to him when the boarder's parentsreturned from their trip and the girl went home. He had her invitationto call at her home in Lancaster. Surely, there Lyman would not sitlike the black raven of Poe's poem! Isabel would not forget him evenwhen she was once more in the city! Martin Landis was beginning tothink the world a fine old place, after all. He was going to school, had prospects of securing a position after his own desires, thanks toIsabel Souders, he had the friendship of a talented, charming citygirl--what added bliss the future held for him he did not often dreamabout. The present held enough joy for him. 

CHAPTER XII

UNHAPPY DAYS

That September Amanda went back to her second year of teaching at CrowHill. She went bearing a heavy heart. It was hard to concentrate herfull attention on reading, spelling and arithmetic. She neededconstantly to summon all her will power to keep from dreaming andholding together her tottering castles in Spain. 

From the little Landis children, pupils in her school, she heardunsolicited bits of gossip about Martin--"Our Mart, he's got a girl inLancaster. "

"Oh, you mustn't talk like that!" Amanda interrupted, feelingconscience stricken. 

"Ach, that don't matter, " came the frank reply; "it ain't no secret. Pop and Mom tease him about it lots of times. He gets all dressed upstill evenings and takes the trolley to Lancaster to see his girl. "

"Perhaps he goes in on business. "

"Business--you bet not! Not every week and sometimes twice a week wouldhe go on business. He's got a girl and I heard Mom tell Pop in Dutchthat she thinks it's that there Isabel that boarded at your house lastsummer once. Mom said she wished she could meet her, then she'd feelbetter satisfied. We don't want just anybody to get our Mart. But Iguess anybody he'd pick out would be all right, don't you, Aman--Imean, Miss Reist?"

"Yes, I guess so--of course she would, " Amanda agreed. 

One winter day Martin himself mentioned the name of Isabel to Amanda. He stopped in at the Reist farm, seeming his old friendly self. "I camein to tell you good news, " he told Amanda. 

"Now what?" asked Millie, who was in the room with Mrs. Reist andAmanda. 

"I've been appointed to a place in the bank at Lancaster. "

"Good! I'm so glad, Martin!" cried the girl with genuine interest andjoy. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes. But I would never have landed it so soon if it hadn't been forMr. Souders, Isabel's father. He's influential in the city and hehelped me along. Now it's up to me to make good. "

"You'll do that, I'm sure you will!" came the spontaneous reply. 

Martin looked at the bright, friendly face of Amanda. "Why, " hethought, "how pleased she is! She's a great little pal. " For a momentthe renewed friendliness of childhood days was awakened in him. 

"Say, Amanda, " he said, "we haven't had a good tramp for ages. I'vebeen so busy with school"--he flushed, thinking of the city girl towhom he had been giving so much of his time--"and--well, I've been atit pretty hard for a while. Now I'll just keep on with mycorrespondence work but I'll have a little more time. Shall we take atramp Sunday afternoon?"

"If you want to, " the girl responded, her heart pounding with pleasure. 

Amanda dressed her prettiest for that winter tramp. She rememberedQueen Esther, who had put on royal apparel to win the favor of theking. The country girl, always making the most of her good features andcoloring, was simply, yet becomingly dressed when she met Martin in theReist sitting-room. In her brown suit, little brown hat pulled over herred hair, a brown woolly scarf thrown over her shoulders, she lookedlike a creature of the woodland she loved. 

That walk in the afternoon sunshine which warmed slightly the cold, snowy earth, was a happy one to both. Some of the old comradeshipsprang up, mushroom-like, as they climbed the rail fence and enteredthe woods where they had so often sought wild flowers and birds' nests. Martin spoke frankly of his work and his ambition to advance. Amandawas a good listener, a quality always appreciated by a man. When he hadtold his hopes and aspirations to her he began to take interest in heraffairs. Her school, funny incidents occurring there, her basket workwith the children--all were talked about, until Amanda in dazed fashionbrushed her hand across her eyes and wondered whether Isabel and herwiles was all an hallucination. 

But the subject came round all too soon. They were speaking of theVictrola recently purchased for the Crow Hill school when Martin asked, "Have you ever heard Isabel Souders play?"

"Yes, at Millersville. She often played at recitals. "

"She's great! Isn't she great at a piano! She's been good enough toinvite me in there. Sometimes she plays for me. The first time sheplayed ragtime but I told her I hate that stuff. She said she'sversatile, can please any taste. So now she entertains me with thoselovely, dreamy things that almost talk to you. She's taught me to playcards, too. I haven't said anything about it at home, they wouldn'tunderstand. Mother and Father still consider cards wicked. I dare sayit wouldn't be just the thing for Mennonites to play cards, but I failto see any harm in it. "

"No--but your mother would be hurt if she knew it. "

"She won't know it. I wouldn't do anything wrong, but Mother doesn'tunderstand about such things. The only place I play is at Isabel'shome. It's an education to be taken into a fine city home like theirsand treated as an equal. "

"An equal! Why, Martin Landis, you are an equal! If a good, honestcountry boy isn't as good as a butterfly city girl I'd like to know whois! Aren't your people and mine as good as any others in the wholeworld? Even if the men do eat in their shirt sleeves and the womencan't tell an oyster fork from a salad one. " The fine face of the girlwas flushed and eager as she went on, "Of course, these days youngpeople should learn all the little niceties of correct table manners sothey can eat anywhere and not be embarrassed. But I'll never despiseany middle-aged or old people just because they eat with a knife orpour coffee into a saucer or commit any other similar transgression. It's a matter of man-made style, after all. When our grannies wereyoung the proper way to do was to pour coffee into the saucers. Why, wehave a number of little glass plates made just for the purpose ofholding the cup after the coffee had been poured into the saucer. Thecup-plates saved the cloth from stains of the drippings on the cup. Iheard a prominent lecturer say we should not be so quick to condemnpeople who do not eat as we think they should. He said, apropos ofeating with a knife or, according to present usage, with a fork, thatit's just a little matter of the difference between pitching it in orshoveling it in. "

Martin laughed. "There's nothing of the snob about you, is there? Ibelieve you see the inside of people without much looking on theexterior. "

"I hope so, " she said. "Shall we turn back now? I'm cold. "

She was cold, but it was an inward reaction from the joy of being withMartin again. His words about Isabel and his glad recounting of thehours he spent with her chilled the girl. She felt that he was becomingmore deeply entangled in the web Isabel spun for him. To the countrygirl's observant, analytical mind it seemed almost impossible that agirl of Isabel's type could truly love a plain man like Martin Landisor could ever make him happy if she married him. 

"It's just one more conquest for her to boast about, " Amanda thought. "Just as the mate of the Jack-in-the-pulpit invites the insects to herhoney and then catches them in a hopeless trap, so women like Isabelplay with men like Martin. No wonder the root of the Jack-in-the-pulpitis bitter--it's symbolic of the aftermath of the honeyed trap. "

Worried, unhappy though she was, Amanda's second year of teaching was, in the opinion of the pupils, highly successful. Some of the wonder-thoughts of her heart she succeeded in imparting to them in that littlerural school. As she tugged at the bell rope and sent the ding-dongpealing over the countryside with its call that brought the childrenfrom many roads and byways she felt an irresistible thrill pulsatingthrough her. It was as if the big bell called, "Here, come here, comehere! We'll teach you knowledge from books, and that rarer thing, wisdom. We'll teach you in this little square room the meaning of thegreat outside world, how to meet the surging tide of the cities andbattle squarely. We'll show you how to carry to commerce and businessand professional life the honesty and wholesomeness and sincerity ofthe country. We'll teach you that sixteen ounces make a pound and showyou why you must never forget that, but must keep exalted and unstainedthe high standards of courage and right. "

Some world-old philosophical conception of the insignificance of herown joys and sorrows as compared with the magnitude of the earth andits vast solar system came to her at times. 

"My life, " she thought, "seems so important to me and yet it is solittle a thing to weep about if my days are not as full of joy as Iwant them to be. I must step out from myself, detach myself and get aproper perspective. After all, my little selfish wants and yearningsare so small a portion of the whole scheme of things. 

 'For all that laugh, and all that weep And all that breathe are one Slight ripple on the boundless deep That moves, and all is gone. '"

Looking back over the winter months of that second year of teachingAmanda sometimes wondered how she was able to do her work in theschoolroom acceptably. But the strain of being a stoic left its marksupon her. 

"My goodness, " said Aunt Rebecca one day in February when a blizzardheld her snowbound at the Reist farmhouse, "that girl must be doin' toomuch with this teachin' and basket makin' and who knows what not! Shelooks pale and sharp-chinned. Ain't you noticed?" she asked Mrs. Reist. 

"I thought last week she looked pinched and I asked if she felt bad butshe said she felt all right, she was just a little bit tired sometimes. I guess teachin' forty boys and girls ain't any too easy, Becky. "

"My goodness, no! I'd rather tend hogs all day! But why don't you makea big crock of boneset tea and make her take a good swallow every day?There's nothin' like that to build abody up. She looks real bad--youdon't want her to go in consumption like that Ellie Hess over near myplace. "

"Oh, mercy no! Becky, how you scare abody! I'll fix her up some bonesettea to-day yet. I got some on the garret that Millie dried lastsummer. "

Amanda protested against the boneset but to please her mother shepromised to swallow faithfully the doses of bitter tea. She thoughtwhimsically as she drank it, "First time I knew that boneset tea isgood for an aching heart. Boneset tea--it isn't that I want! I'm afraidI'm losing hold of my old faith in the ultimate triumph of sincerityand truth. Seems that men, even men like Martin Landis, don't want theold-fashioned virtues in a woman. They don't look for womanlyqualities, but prefer to be amused and entertained and flattered andappealed to through the senses. Brains and heart don't seem to count. Iwish I could be a butterfly! But I can never be like Isabel. When sheis near I feel like a bump-on-a-log. My tongue is like lead while shechatters and holds the attention of Martin. She compels attention andcrowds out everybody else. Oh, yea! as we youngsters used to say whenthings went wrong when we were little. Perhaps things will come outright some day. I'll just keep on taking that boneset tea!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE TROUBLE MAKER

If "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" a man spurned in lovesometimes runs a close second. 

One day in March Lyman Mertzheimer came home for the week-end. Hisfirst thought was to call at the Reist home. 

Amanda, outwardly improved--Millie said, "All because of that thereboneset tea"--welcomed spring and its promise, but she could not extendto Lyman Mertzheimer the same degree of welcome. 

"It's that Lyman again, " Millie reported after she had opened the doorfor the caller. "He looks kinda mad about something. What's he hangin'round here for all the time every time he gets home from school whenabody can easy see you don't like him to come?"

"Oh, I don't know. He just drops in. I guess because we were youngsterstogether. "

"Um, mebbe, " grunted Millie wisely to herself as Amanda went to see hervisitor. "I ain't blind and neither did I come in the world yesterday. That Lyman's wantin' to be Amanda's beau and she don't want him. Guesshe'll stand watchin' if he gets turned down. I never did like themMertzheimers--all so up in the air they can hardly stand still to lookat abody. "

Lyman was standing at the window, looking out gloomily. He turned asAmanda came into the room. 

"I had to come, Amanda--hang it, you keep a fellow on pins and needles!You wouldn't answer my letters--"

"I told you not to write. "

"But why? Aren't you going to change your mind? I made up my mind longago that I'd marry you some day and a Mertzheimer is a good deal like abulldog when it comes to hanging on. "

"Lyman, why hash the thing over so often? I don't care for you. Go findsome nice girl who will care for you. "

"Um, " he said dejectedly, "I want you. I thought you just wanted to becoaxed, but I'm beginning to think you mean it. So you don't care forme--I suppose you'd snatch Martin Landis in a hurry if you could gethim! But he's poor as a church mouse! You better tie him to your apronstrings--that pretty Souders girl from Lancaster is playing her cardsthere--"

Amanda sprang to her feet. "Lyman, " she sputtered--"you--you better gobefore I make you sorry you said that. "

The luckless lover laughed, a reckless, demoniac peal. "Two can play atthat game!" he told her. "You're so high and mighty that a Mertzheimerisn't good enough for you. But you better look out--we've got claws!"

The girl turned and went out of the room. A moment later she heard thefront door slammed and knew that Lyman had gone. His covert threat--what did he mean? What vengeance could he wreak on her? Oh, what acomplicated riddle life had grown to be! She remembered Aunt Rebecca'swarning that tears would have to balance all the laughter. How sheyearned for the old, happy childhood days to come back to her! Sheclutched frantically at the quickly departing joy and cheerfulness ofthat far-off past. 

"I'm going to keep my sense of humor and my faith in things in spite ofanything that comes to me, " she promised herself, "even if they do haveto give me boneset tea to jerk me up a bit!" She laughed at Millie'sfaith in the boneset tea. "I hope it also takes the meanness and hateout of my heart. Why, just now I hate Lyman! If he really cared for meI'd feel sorry for him, but he doesn't love me, he just wants to marryme because long ago he decided he would do so some day. "

In spite of her determination to be philosophical and cheerful, thememory of Lyman's threat returned to her at times in a baffling way. What could he mean? How could he harm her? His father was a director ofthe Crow Hill school, but pshaw! One director couldn't put her out ofher place in the school!

Lyman Mertzheimer had only a few days to carry out the plan formulatedin his angry mind as he walked home after the tilt with Amanda. 

"I'll show her, " he snorted, "the disagreeable thing! I'll show herwhat can happen when she turns down a Mertzheimer! The very nameMertzheimer means wealth and high standing! And she puts up her noseand tosses her red head at me and tells me she won't have me! She'llsee what a Mertzheimer can do!"

The elder Mertzheimer, school director, was not unlike his son. Whenthe young man came to him with an exaggerated tale of the contemptibleway Amanda had treated him, thrown him over as though he were nobody, Mr. Mertzheimer, Senior, sympathized with his aggrieved son and stormedand vowed he'd see if he'd vote for that red-headed snip of a teachernext year. The Reists thought they were somebody, anyhow, and they hadno more money than he had, perhaps not so much. What right had she tobe ugly to Lyman when he did her the honor to ask her to marry him? Thesnip! He'd show her!

"But one vote won't keep her out of the school, " said Lyman withdiplomatic unconcern. 

"Leave it to me, boy! I'll talk a few of them over. There was somecomplaint last year about her not doing things like other school-teachers round here, and her not being a strict enough teacher. Sheteaches geography with a lot of dirt and water. She has the young onesscurrying round the woods and fields with nets to catch butterflies. And she lugs in a lot of corn husk and shows them how to make a fewdinky baskets and thinks she's doing some wonderful thing. For all thatshe draws her salary and gets away with all that tomfoolery--guessbecause she can smile and humbug some people--them red-headed women areall like that, boy. She's not the right teacher for Crow Hill schooland I'm going to make several people see it. Then let her twiddle herthumbs till she gets a place so near home and as nice as the Crow Hillschool!"

Mr. Mertzheimer, whose august dignity had been unpardonably offended, lost no time in seeing the other directors of the Crow Hill school. Hementioned nothing about the real grievance against Amanda, but playedupon the slender string of her inefficiency, as talked about by thepatrons. He presented the matter so tactfully that several of the menwere convinced he spoke from a deep conviction that the interests ofthe community were involved and that in all fairness to the pupils ofthat rural school a new, competent teacher should be secured for theensuing term. One director, being a man with the unfortunate addictionof being easily swayed by the opinions of others, was readily convincedby the plausible arguments of Mr. Mertzheimer that Amanda Reist wasutterly unfit for the position she held. 

When all the directors had been thus casually imbued with antagonism, or, at least, suspicion, Mr. Mertzheimer went home, chuckling. He feltelated at the clever method he had taken to uphold the dignity of hisson and punish the person who had failed to rightly respect thatdignity. In a few weeks the County Superintendent of Schools would makehis annual visit to Crow Hill, and if "a bug could be put in his ear"and he be influenced to show up the flaws in the school, everythingwould be fine! "Fine as silk, " thought Mr. Mertzheimer. He knew a girlnear Landisville who was a senior at Millersville and would be glad toteach a school like Crow Hill. He'd tell her to apply for the position. It would take about five minutes to put out that independent AmandaReist and vote in the other girl--it just takes some people to plan!He, Mr. Mertzheimer, had planned it! Probably in his limited educationhe had never read that sententious line regarding what often happens tothe best laid plans of mice and men!

The Saturday following Mr. Mertzheimer's perfection of his plans Milliecame home from market greatly excited. 

"Manda, Manda, come here once!" she called as she set her empty basketson the kitchen table. "Just listen, " she said to the girl, who camerunning. "I heard something to-day! That old Mertzheimer--he--he--oh, yea, why daren't I swear just this once! I'm that mad! That oldMertzheimer and the young one ought to be tarred and feathered!"

"Why, Millie!" said Amanda, smiling at the unwonted agitation of thehired girl. "What's happened?"

"Well, this mornin' two girls came to my stall and while they wasstandin' there and I waited on some other lady, they talked. One askedthe other if she was goin' to teach next year, and what do you thinkshe said--that a Mr. Mertzheimer had told her to apply for the CrowHill school, that they wanted a new teacher there for another year! Ididn't say nothin' to them or let on that I know the teacher of thatschool, but I thought a heap. So, you see, that sneakin' man is goin'to put you out if he at all can do it. And just because you won't takeup with that pretty boy of his! Them Mertzheimer people think they ownwhole Crow Hill and can run everybody in it to suit themselves. "

"Yes--I see. " Amanda's face was troubled. "That's Lyman's work. " Theinjustice of the thing hurt her. "Of course, I can get another school, but I like Crow Hill, I know the children and we get along so well, andit's near home----"

"Well, " came Millie's spirited question, "surely you ain't goin' to letMertzheimers do like they want? I don't believe in this foldin' handsand lookin' meek and leavin' people use you for a shoe mat! Here, comein once till I tell you somethin', " she called as Mrs. Reist, Philipand Uncle Amos came through the yard. She repeated her account of thenews the strangers had unwittingly imparted to her at market. 

"The skunk, " said Philip. 

"Skunk?" repeated Uncle Amos. "I wouldn't insult the little black andwhite furry fellow like that! A skunk'll trot off and mind his ownbusiness if you leave him alone, and, anyhow, he'll put up his tail fora danger signal so you know what's comin' if you hang around. "

"Well, then, " said the boy, "call him a snake, a rattlesnake. "

"And that's not quite hittin' the mark, either. A rattlesnake rattlesbefore he strikes. I say mean people are more like the copperhead, thathides in the grass and leaves that are like its own color, and when youain't expectin' it and without any warnin', he'll up and strike youwith his poison fangs. What are you goin' to do about it, Amanda?"

"Do? I'll do nothing. What can I do?"

"You might go round and see the directors and ask them to vote foryou, " suggested Millie. "I wouldn't let them people get the best of me--just for spite now I wouldn't!"

"I won't ask for one vote!" Amanda was decided in that. "The men on theboard have had a chance to see how the school is run, and if it doesn'tplease them, or if they are going to have one man rule them and tellthem how to vote--let them go! I'll hand in my application, that's allI'll do. "

"What for need you be so stiff-headed?" asked Millie sadly. "It'llspite us all if they put you out and you go off somewheres to teach. Ach, abody wonders sometimes why some people got to be so mean in thisworld. "

"It is always that way, " said Mrs. Reist gently. "There are weedseverywhere, even in this Garden Spot. Why, I found a stalk of deadlynightshade in my rose-bed last summer. "

"Wheat and chaff, I guess, " was Uncle Amos's comment. 

"But, Amanda, " asked Millie, "ain't there some person over thedirectors, boss over them?"

"Just the County Superintendent, and he's not really boss over them. Hecomes round to the schools every year and the directors come with himand, of course, if he blames a teacher they hear it, and if he praisesone they hear it. "

"Um--so--I see, " said Millie. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE COUNTY SUPERINTENDENT'S VISIT

The annual visit of the County Superintendent of Schools alwayscarries with it some degree of anxiety for the teacher. Sometimes thevisit comes unexpectedly, but generally the news is sent round in somemanner, and last minute polish and coachings are given for the hour oftrial. The teacher, naturally eager to make a creditable showing, neverknows what vagaries of stupidity will seize her brightest pupils andcause them to stand helpless and stranded as she questions them in thepresence of the distinguished visitor and critic. 

The Superintendent came to the Crow Hill school on a blustery March dayof the sort that blows off hats and tries the tempers of the sweetestnatured people. Amanda thought she never before lived through hours solong as those in which she waited for the visitors. But at length camethe children's subdued, excited announcement, "Here they come!" as thegrind of wheels sounded outside the windows. A few minutes later thehour was come--the County Superintendent and the directors, Mr. Mertzheimer in the lead, stepped into the little room, shook hands withthe teacher, then seated themselves and waited for Amanda to go on withher regular lessons and prove her efficiency. 

Amanda, stirred by the underhand workings of Mr. Mertzheimer, was onher mettle. She'd just show that man she could teach! Two years'experience in handling rural school classes came to her support. Withprecision, yet unhurried, she conducted classes in geography, grammar, reading, arithmetic, some in beginners' grades and others in theadvanced classes. 

She saved her trump card for the last, her nature class, in which thechildren told from the colored pictures that formed a frieze above theblackboard, the names of fifty native birds and gave a short sketch oftheir habits, song or peculiarities. 

After that the pupils sang for the visitors. During that time the eyesof the Superintendent traveled about the room, from the pressed andmounted leaves and flowers on the walls to the corn-husk and grassbaskets on a table in the rear of the room. 

When the children's part was ended came the time they loved best, thatportion of the visit looked forward to each year, the address of theCounty Superintendent. He was a tall man, keen-eyed and kindly, and ashe stood before the little school the eyes of every child were uponhim--he'd be sure to say something funny before he sat down--he alwaysdid!

"Well, boys and girls, here we are again! And, as the old PennsylvaniaDutch preacher said, 'I'm glad that I can say that I'm glad that I'mhere. ' "He rattled off the words in rapid Pennsylvania Dutch, at whichthe children laughed and some whispered, "Why, he can talk the Dutch, too!" Then they listened in rapt attention as the speaker went on:

"Last year my hour in this schoolroom was one of the high-lights of myvisits to the rural schools of the county. So I expected big thingsfrom you this year, and it gives me great pleasure to tell you that Iam not disappointed. I might go farther and tell you the truth--I ammore than pleased with the showing of this school. I listenedattentively while all the classes were in session, and your answersshowed intelligent thinking and reasoning. You had a surprise for me inthat bird class. I like that! It's a great idea to learn from coloredpictures the names of our birds, for by so doing you will be able toidentify them readily when you meet them in the fields and woods. Nolover of birds need fear that one of you will rob a bird's nest or usea sling-shot on a feathered neighbor. You show by your stories aboutthe birds that a proper regard and appreciation for them has beenfostered in you by your teacher. You all know that it has long beenacknowledged that 'An honest confession is good for the soul, ' so I'mgoing to be frank and tell you that as Miss Reist pointed to the birdsthere were thirty out of the fifty that I did not know. I have learnedsomething of great value with you here to-day, and I promise you thatI'm going to buy a book and study about them so that when I come to seeyou next year I'll know every one of your pictures. You make me feelashamed of my meagre knowledge of our feathered neighbors on whom, indirectly, our very existence depends. 

"I made mention last year about your fine work in basketry, and am gladto do so again. I like your teacher's idea of utilizing nativematerial, corn husk, dried grasses and reeds, all from our own GardenSpot, and a few colored strands of raffia from Madagascar, and formingthem into baskets. This faculty of using apparently useless materialand fashioning from it a useful and beautiful article is one of ourPennsylvania Dutch heritages and one we should cherish and develop. 

"I understand there has been some adverse criticism among a few of theless liberal patrons of the community in regard to the basket work andnature study Miss Reist is teaching. Oh, I suppose we must expect that!Progress is always hampered by sluggish stupidity and contrariness. Wewho can see into the future and read the demands of the times mustsurely note that the children must be taught more than the knowledgecontained between the covers of our school books. The teacher who caninstil into the hearts of her pupils a feeling of kinship with the wildcreatures of the fields and woods, who can waken in the children anappreciation of the beauty and symmetry of the flowers, even the weeds, and at the same time not fail in her duty as a teacher of arithmetic, history, and so forth, is a real teacher who has the proper conceptionof her high calling and is conscientiously striving to carry thatconception into action. 

"Directors, let me make this public statement to you, that in MissReist you have a teacher well worthy of your heartiest cooperation. Thedanger with us who have been out of school these thirty years or moreis that we expect to see the antiquated methods of our own school daysin operation to-day. We would have the schools stand still while thewhole world moves. 

"I feel it is only just to commend a teacher's work when it deservescommendation, as I consider it my duty to point out the flaws and nameany causes for regret I may discover in her teaching. In this school Ihave found one big cause for regret---"

The hard eyes of Mr. Mertzheimer flashed. All through the glowingpraise of the County Superintendent the schemer had sat with head castdown and face flushed in mortification and anger. Now his head waserect. Good! That praise was just a bluff! That red-head would get agood hard knock now! Good enough for her! Now she'd wish she had notturned down the son of the leading director of Crow Hill school!Perhaps now she'd be glad to accept the attentions of Lyman. Marriagewould be a welcome solution to her troubles when she lost her positionin the school so near home. The Superintendent was not unmindful ofthat "flea in his ear, " after all. 

"I have found one cause for regret, " the speaker repeated slowly, "onebig cause. "

His deep, feeling voice stopped and he faced the school while thehearts of pupils and teacher beat with apprehension. 

"And that regret is, " he said very slowly so that not one word of hiscould be lost, "that I have not a dozen teachers just like Miss Reistto scatter around the county!"

Amanda's lips trembled. The relief and happiness occasioned by thewords of the speaker almost brought her to tears. The children, appreciating the compliment to their teacher, clapped hands until thelittle room resounded with deafening noise. 

"That's good, " said the distinguished visitor, smiling, as the applausedied down. "You stick to your teacher like that and follow her lead andI am sure you will develop into men and women of whom Lancaster Countywill be proud. "

After a few more remarks, a joke or two, he went back to his seat withthe directors. Mr. Mertzheimer avoided meeting his eyes. The father ofLyman Mertzheimer, who had been so loud in his denunciation of thetomfoolery baskets and dried weeds, suddenly developed an intenseinterest in a tray of butterflies and milkweed. 

In a few minutes it was time for dismissal. One of the older girlsplayed a simple march on the little organ and the scholars marched fromthe room. With happy faces they said good-bye, eager to run home andtell all about the visit of the County Superintendent and the things hesaid. 

As the visitors rose to go the County Superintendent stepped away fromthe others and went to Amanda. 

"You have been very kind, " she told him, joy showing in her animatedface. 

"Honor to whom honor is due, Miss Reist, " he said, with that winningsmile of approval so many teachers worked to win. "I have here a littlething I want you to read after we leave. It is a copy of a letter youmight like to keep, though I feel certain the writer of it would feelembarrassed if told of your perusal of it. I want to add that I shouldhave felt the same and made similar remarks to-day if I had not readthat letter, but probably I should not have expressed my opinion quiteso forcibly. Keep the letter. I intend to keep the original. It renewsfaith in human nature in general. It makes me feel anew how good athing it is to have a friend. Good-bye, Miss Reist. I have enjoyed myvisit to Crow Hill school, I assure you. "

Amanda looked at him, wondering. What under the sun could he mean? Whyshould she read a letter written to him? She smiled, shook the hand heoffered, but was still at a loss to understand his words. The directorscame up to say good-bye. Mr. Mertzheimer bowed very politely butrefrained from meeting her eyes as he said, "Good-afternoon. " The othermen did not bow but they added to their good-bye, "I'm going to votefor you. We don't want to lose you. "

Amanda's heart sang as the two carriages rolled away and she was leftalone in the schoolroom. She had seen the device of the wicked come tonaught, she gloried in the fact that the mean and unfair was once moreoverbalanced by the just and kind. After the tribute from the CountySuperintendent and the promises from all the directors but Mr. Mertzheimer she felt assured that she would not be ignominiously putout of the school she loved. Then she thought of the letter and openedit hastily, her eyes traveling fast over the long sheet. 

"DEAR MISTER, Maybe it ain't polite to write to you when you don't know me but I gota favor to ask you and I don't know no other way to do it. Amanda Reistis teacher of the Crow Hill school and she is a good one, everybodysays so but a few old cranks that don't know nothing. There's one ofthe directors on the school board has got a son that ain't worth ahollow bean and he wants Amanda should take him for her beau. She's gottoo much sense for that, our Amanda can get a better man than LymanMertzheimer I guess. But now since she won't have nothing to do withhim he's got his pop to get her out her school. The old man has askedanother girl to ask for the job and he's talked a lot about Amanda tillsome of the other directors side with him. He's rich and a big boss andthings got to go his way. Most everybody says Amanda's a good teacher, the children run to meet her and they learn good with her. I heard hersay you was coming to visit the school soon and that the directorsmostly come with you and I just found out where you live and am writingthis to tell you how it is. Perhaps if you like her school and would doit to tell them directors so it would help her. It sometimes helps alot when a big person takes the side of the person being tramped on. Amanda is too high strung to ask any of the directors to stick to her. She says they can see what kind of work she does and if they want tolet one man run the school board and run her out she'll go out. But shelikes that school and it's near her home and we'd all feel bad if shegot put out and went off somewheres far to teach. I'm just the hiredgirl at her house but I think a lot of her. I will say thanks very muchfor what you can do. 

And oblige, AMELIA HESS. 

P. S. I forgot to say Amanda don't know I have wrote this. I guess shewouldn't leave me send it if she did. "

Tears of happiness rolled down the girl's face as she ended the readingof the letter. "The dear thing! The loyal old body she is! So that waswhy she borrowed my dictionary and shut herself up in her room onewhole evening! Just a hired girl she says--could any blood relative doa kinder deed? Oh, I don't wonder he said it renews faith in humannature! I guess for every Mertzheimer there's a Millie. I'll surelykeep this letter but I won't let her know I have any idea about whatshe did. I'm so glad he gave it to me. It takes the bitter taste frommy mouth and makes life pleasant again. Now I'll run home with the newsof the Superintendent's visit and the nice things he said. "

She did run, indeed, especially when she reached the yard of her home. By the time the gate clicked she was near the kitchen door. Millie wasrolling out pies, Mrs. Reist was paring apples. 

"Mother, " the girl twined an arm about the neck of the white-cappedwoman and kissed her fervently on the cheek, "I'm so excited! Oh, Millie, " she treated the astonished woman to the same expression oflove. 

"What now?" said Millie. "Now you got that flour all over your nicedress. What ails you, anyhow?"

"Oh, just joy. The Superintendent was here and he puffed me way up tothe skies and the directors, all but Mr. Mertzheimer, promised to votefor me. I didn't ask them too, either. "

"I'm so glad, " said Mrs. Reist. 

"Ach, now ain't that nice! I'm glad, " said Millie, her face bright withjoy. "So he puffed you up in front of them men? That was powerful nicefor him to do, but just what you earned, I guess. I bet that settledthe Mertzheimer hash once! That County man knows his business. He ain'tgoin' through the world blind. What all did he say?"

"Oh, he was lovely. He liked the baskets and the classes and thesinging and--everything! And Mr Mertzheimer looked madder than asetting hen when you take her off the nest. He hung his head like awhipped dog. "

"Na-ha!" exulted Millie. "That's one time that he didn't have his ownway once! I bet he gets out of the school board if he can't run it. "

Her prediction came true. Mr. Mertzheimer's dignity would not toleratesuch trampling under foot. If that red-headed teacher was going to keepthe school he'd get out and let the whole thing go to smash! He gotout, but to his surprise, nothing went to smash. An intelligent farmer, more amenable to good judgment, was elected to succeed him and the CrowHill school affairs went smoothly. In due time Amanda Reist was electedby unanimous vote to teach for the ensuing year and the Mertzheimers, thwarted, nursed their wrath, and sat down to think of other avenues ofattack. 

CHAPTER XV

"MARTIN'S GIRL"

If the securing of the coveted school, the assurance of the good willand support of the patrons and directors, and the love of the dear homefolks was a combination of blessings ample enough to bring perfecthappiness, then Amanda Reist should have been in that state during thelong summer months of her vacation. But, after the perverseness ofhuman nature, there was one thing lacking, only one--her knight, MartinLandis. 

During the long, bright summer days Amanda worked on the farm, helpedMillie faithfully, but she was never so busily occupied with manuallabor that she did not take time now and then to sit idly under sometree and dream, adding new and wonderful turrets to her golden castlesin Spain. 

She remembered with a whimsical, wistful smile the pathetic Romance ofthe Swan's Nest and the musing of Little Ellie--

 "I will have a lover, Riding on a steed of steeds; He shall love me without guile, And to him I will discover The swan's nest among the reeds. "And the steed shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble"--

and so on, into a rhapsody of the valor of her lover, such as only aromantic child could picture. But, alas! As the dream comes to thegrand climax and Little Ellie, "Her smile not yet ended, " goes to seewhat more eggs were with the two in the swan's nest, she finds, "Lo, the wild swan had deserted, And a rat had gnawed the reeds!"

Was it usually like that? Amanda wondered. Were reality and dreamsnever coincident? Was the romance of youth just a pretty bubble whoserainbow tints would soon be pierced and vanish into vapor? Castles inSpain--were they so ethereal that never by any chance could they--atleast some semblance to them--be duplicated in reality?

"I'll hold on to my castles in Spain!" she cried to her heart. "I'llkeep on hoping, I won't let go, " she said, as though, like Jacob ofold, she were wrestling for a blessing. 

Many afternoons she brought her sewing to the front porch and sat thereas Martin passed by on his way home from the day's work at Lancaster. His cordial, "Hello" was friendly enough but it afforded scant joy tothe girl who knew that all his leisure hours were spent with theattractive Isabel Souders. 

Martin was friendly enough, but that was handing her a stone when shewanted bread. 

One June morning she was working in the yard as he went by on his wayto the bank. A great bunch of his mother's pink spice roses was in hisarm. He was earlier, too, than usual. Probably he was taking theflowers to Isabel. 

"Hello, " he called to the girl. "You're almost a stranger, Amanda. "

He was not close enough to see the tremble of her lips as she calledback, "Not quite, I hope. "

"Well, Mother said this morning that she has not seen you for severalweeks. You used to come down to play with the babies but now yourvisits are few and far between. Mother said she misses you, Amanda. Whydon't you run down to see her when you have time?"

"All right, Martin, I will. It is some time since I've had a good visitwith your mother. I'll be down soon. "

"Do, she'll be glad, " he said and went down the road to the trolley. 

"Almost a stranger, " mused the girl after he was gone. Then she thoughtof the old maid who had answered a query thus, "Why ain't I married?Goodness knows, it ain't my fault!" Amanda's saving sense of humor cameto her rescue and banished the tears. 

"Guess I'll run over to see Mrs. Landis a while this afternoon. It is along time since I've been there. I do enjoy being with her. She's sucha cheerful person. The work and noise of nine children doesn't botherher a bit. I don't believe she knows what nerves are. "

That afternoon Amanda walked down the country road, past the Crow Hillschoolhouse, to the Landis farm. As she came to the barn-yard she heardEmma, the youngest Landis child, crying and an older boy chiding, "Ah, you big baby! Crying about a pinched finger! Can't you act like asoldier?"

"But girls--don't be soldiers, " said the hurt child, sobbing inchildish pain. 

Amanda appeared on the scene and went to the grassy slope of the bigbank barn. There she drew the little girl to her and began to comforther. "Here, let Amanda kiss the finger. "

"It hurts, it hurts awful, Manda, " sniffed the child. 

"I know it hurts. A pinched finger hurts a whole lot. You just cry awhile and by that time it will stop hurting. " She began to croon to thechild the words of an old rhyme she had picked up somewhere long ago:

 "Hurt your finger, little lassie? Just you cry a while! For some day your heart will hurt And then you'll have to smile. 

 Time enough to be a stoic In the coming years; Blessed are the days when pain Is washed away by tears. "

By the time the verse was ended the child's attention had been divertedfrom the finger to the song and the smiles came back to the littleface. 

"Now, " said Amanda, "we'll bathe it in the water at the trough and itwill be entirely well. "

"And it won't turn into a pig's foot?"

"Mercy, no!"

"Charlie said it would if I didn't stop cryin'. "

"But you stopped crying, you know, before it could do that. Charlie'llpump water and we'll wash all nice and clean and go in to Mother. "

Water from the watering trough in the barn-yard soon effaced the tracesof tears and a happy trio entered the big yard near the house. An olderboy and Katie Landis came running to meet them. 

"Oh, Amanda, " said Katie, "did you come once! Just at a good time, too!We're gettin' company for supper and Mom was wishin' you'd come so shecould ask you about settin' the table. We're goin' to eat in the roomto-night, 'stead of the kitchen like we do other times. And we're goin'to have all the good dishes and things out and a bouquet in the middleof the table when we eat! Ain't that grand? But Pop, he told Mom thismorning that if it's as hot to-night as it was this dinner he won'twear no coat to eat, not even if the Queen of Sheba comes to our placefor a meal! But I guess he only said that for fun, because, ain't, theQueen of Sheba was the one in the Bible that came to visit Solomon?"

"Yes. "

"Well, she ain't comin' to us, anyhow. It's that Isabel from Lancaster, Martin's girl, that's comin'. "

"Oh!" Amanda halted on her way across the lawn. "What time is shecoming?" she asked in panicky way, as though she would flee before thevisitor arrived. 

"Ach, not for long yet! We don't eat till after five. Martin brings heron the trolley with him when he comes home from the bank. "

"Then I'll go in to see your mother a while. " A great uneasinessclutched at the girl's heart. Why had she come on that day?

But Mrs. Landis was glad to see her. "Well, Amanda, " she called throughthe kitchen screen, "you're just the person I said I wished would come. Come right in. 

"Come in the room a while where it's cool, " she invited as Amanda andseveral of the children entered the kitchen. "I'm hot through andthrough! I just got a short cake mixed and in the stove. Now I gotnothin' special to do till it's done. I make the old kind yet, thebiscuit dough. Does your mom, too?"

"Yes. "

"Ach, it's better, too, than this sweet kind some people make. I splitit and put a lot of strawberries on it and we eat it with cream. "

"Um, Mom, " said little Charlie, "you make my mouth water still when youtalk about good things like that. I wish it was supper-time a'ready. "

"And you lookin' like that!" laughed the mother, pointing to his barebrown legs and feet and his suit that bore evidence of accidentalmeetings with grass and ground. 

"Did they tell you, Amanda, " she went on placidly, as she rocked andfanned herself with a huge palm-leaf fan, "that we're gettin' companyfor supper?"

"Yes--Isabel. "

"Yes. Martin, he goes in to see her at Lancaster real often and he'sall the time talkin' about her and wantin' we should meet her. She hashim to supper--ach, they call it dinner--but it's what they eat in theevening. I just said to his pop we'll ask her out here to see us onceand find out what for girl she is. From what Martin says she's a littletony and got money and lots of fine things. You know Martin is the kindcan suit himself to most any kind of people. He can make after everyplace he goes, even if they do put on style. So mebbe she thinksMartin's from tony people, too. But when she comes here she can seethat we're just plain country people. I don't put no airs on, but I didsay I'd like to have things nice so that she can't laugh at us, for I'dpity Martin if she did that. Mebbe you know how to set the things onthe table a little more like they do now. It's so long since I ate anyplace tony. I said we'd eat in the room, too, and not in the kitchen. We always eat in the kitchen for it's big and handy and nice and coolwith all the doors and windows open. But I'll carry things in the roomto-night. It will please Martin if we have things nice for his girl. "

"Um-huh, Martin's got a girl!" sang Charlie gleefully. 

"Yes, " spoke up Johnny, a little older and wiser than Charlie. "I knowhe's got a girl. He's got a big book in his room and I seen him oncelook in it and pick up something out of it and look at it like it wassomething worth a whole lot. I sneaked in after he went off and whatd'you think it was? Nothing at all but one of them pink lady-slipperswe find in the woods near the schoolhouse! He pressed it in that bookand acted like it was something precious, so I guess his girl give itto him. "

Amanda remembered the pink lady-slipper. She had seen Isabel give it toMartin that spring day when the city girl's glowing face had smiledover the pink azaleas, straight into the eyes of the country boy. 

"Charlie, " chided Mrs. Landis, "don't you be pokin' round in Martin'sroom. And don't you tell him what you saw. He'd be awful put out. Hedon't like to be teased. Ach, my, " she shook her head and smiled toAmanda, "with so many children it makes sometimes when they all gettalkin' and cuttin' up or scrappin'. "

"But it's a lively, merry place. I always like to come here. "

"Do you, now? Well, I like to have you. I often say to Martin thatyou're like a streak of sunshine comin' on a winter day, always sohappy and full of fun, it does abody good to have you around. Ach"--inanswer to a whisper from the six-year-old baby, "yes, well, go take afew cookies. Only put the lid on the crock tight again so the cookieswill keep fresh. Now I guess I better look after my short cake once. Mister likes everything baked brown. Then I guess we'll set the tableif you don't mind tellin' me a little how. "

"I'll be glad to. "

While Mrs. Landis went up-stairs to get her very best table-clothAmanda looked about the room with its plain country furnishings, itshominess and yet utter lack of real artistry in decoration. Her heartrebelled. What business had a girl like Isabel Souders to enter afamily like the Landis's? She'd like to bet that the city girl woulddisdain the dining-room with its haircloth sofa along one wall and itsorgan in one corner, its quaint, silk-draped mantel where two vases ofPampas grass hobnobbed with an antique pink and white teapot and twopewter plates; its lack of buffet or fashionable china closet, its old, low-backed, cane-seated walnut chairs round a table, long of necessityto hold plates for so large a family. 

"Here it is, the finest one I got. That's one I got yet when I wenthousekeepin'. I don't use it often, it's a little long for the kitchentable. " Mrs. Landis proudly exhibited her old linen table-cloth. "Nowthen, take hold. "

In a few minutes the cloth was spread upon the table and the bestdishes brought from a closet built into the kitchen wall. 

"How many plates?" asked Amanda. 

"Why, let's count once. Eleven of us and Isabel makes twelve and--won'tyou stay, too, Amanda?"

"Oh, no! I'd make thirteen, " she said, laughing. 

"Ach, I don't believe in that unlucky business. You can just as wellstay and have a good time with us. You know Isabel. "

"Yes, I know her. But really, I can't stay. I must get home early. Someother time I'll stay. "

"All right, then, but I'd like it if you could be here. "

"I'll put twelve plates on the table. "

"What I don't know about is the napkins, Amanda. We used to roll themup and put them in the tumblers and then some people folded them intriangles and laid them on the plates, but I don't know if that's rightnow. Mine are just folded square. "

"That's right. I'll place them to the side, so. And the forks go hereand the knives and spoons to this side. "

"Well, don't it beat all? They lay the spoons on the table now? Whatfor is the spoon-holder?"

"Gone out of style. "

"Well, that's funny. I guess when our Mary gets a little older once, she'll want to fix things up, too. I don't care if she does, so long asshe don't want to do dumb things and put on a lot of airs that ain'tfittin' to plain people like us. But it'll be a big wonder to me if oneof the children won't say something about the spoons bein' on thetable-cloth. That's new to them. Then I need three glass dishes forjelly so none will have to reach so far for it. And a big platter forfried ham, a pitcher for the gravy, a dish for smashed potatoes, onefor sweet potatoes, a glass one for cabbage slaw and I guess I ought toput desserts out for the slaw, Amanda. I hate when gravy and everythinggets mixed on the plate. Then I'm going to have some new peas and sourred beets and the short cake. I guess that's enough. "

"It sounds like real Lancaster County food, " said the girl. "Yourcompany should enjoy her supper. "

"Ach, I guess she will. Now I must call in some of the children and getthem started dressin' once. "

She stood at the screen door of the kitchen and rang a small hand bell. Its tintinnabulation sounded through the yard and reached the ears ofthe children who were playing there. The three boys next in age toMartin were helping their father in the fields, but the other childrencame running at the sound of the bell. 

"Time to get dressed, " announced Mrs. Landis. "You all stay round herenow so I can call you easy as one gets done washin'. Johnny, you takeCharlie and the two of you get washed and put on the clothes I laid onyour bed. Then you stay on the porch so you don't get dirty again tillsupper and the company comes. Be sure to wash your feet and legs rightbefore you put on your stockings. "

"Aw, stockings!" growled Charlie. "Why can't we stay barefooty?"

"For company?"

"Ach, " he said sulkily as he walked to the stairs, "I don't like thekind of company you got to put stockings on for! Not on week-days, anyhow!"

His mother laughed. "Emma, " she addressed one of the girls, "when theboys come back you and Mary and Katie must get washed and dressed forthe company. Mary, you dare wear your blue hair-ribbons today and thegirls can put their pink ones on and their white dresses. "

"Oh, " the little girls cried happily. Dressing up for company held morepleasure for them than it did for the boys. 

"I laugh still, " said Mrs. Landis, "when people say what a lot of workso many children make. In many ways, like sewing and cookin' for themthey do, but in other ways they are a big help to me and to each other. If I had just one now I'd have to dress it, but with so many they helpthe littler ones and all I got to do is tell them what to do. It don'thurt them to work a little. Mary is big enough now to put a big apronon and help me with gettin' meals ready. And the boys are good abouthelpin' me, too. Why, Martin, now, he used to help me like a girl whenthe babies were little and I had a lot to do. Mister said the other daywe dare be glad our boys ain't give us no trouble so far. But this girlof Martin's, now, she kinda worries me. I said to Mister if only he'dpick out a girl like you. "

To her surprise the face of the girl blanched. Mrs. Landis thought indismay, "Now what for dumb block am I, not to guess that mebbe Amandalikes our Martin! Ach, my! but it spites me that he's gone on that citygirl! Well, " she went on, talking in an effort at reparation and inseeming ignorance of the secret upon which she had stumbled, "mebbe heain't goin' to marry her after all. These boys sometimes run after suchbright, merry butterfly girls and then they get tired of them and pickout a nice sensible one to marry. Abody must just keep on hopin' thateverything will turn out right. Anyhow, I don't let myself worry muchabout it. "

"Do you ever worry, Mrs. Landis? I can't remember ever seeing youworried and borrowing trouble. "

"No, what's the use? I found out long ago that worry don't get younowhere except in hot water, so what's the use of it?"

"That's a good way to look at things if you can do it, " the girlagreed. "I think I'll go home now. You don't need me. You'll get alongnicely, I'm sure. "

"Ach, yes, I guess so. But now you must come soon again, Amanda. Thiscompany business kinda spoiled your visit to-day. "

Amanda was in the rear of the house and did not see the vision ofloveliness which passed the Reist farmhouse about five o'clock thatafternoon. One of Martin's brothers met the two at the trolley anddrove them to the Landis farm. Isabel Souders was that day, indeed, attractive. She wore a corn-colored organdie dress and leghorn hat, hernatural beauty was enhanced by a becoming coiffure, her eyes danced, her lips curved in their most bewitching bow. 

The visitor was effusive in her meeting with Martin's mother. "DearMrs. Landis, " she gushed, "it is so lovely of you to have me here! Lastsummer while I boarded at Reists' I was so sorry not to meet you!Of course I met Martin and some of the younger children but the motheris always the most adorable one of the family! Oh, come here, dear, youdarling, " she cooed to little Emma, who had tiptoed into the room. ButEmma held to her mother's apron and refused to move. 

"Ach, Emma, " Katie, a little older, chided her. "You'll run a mile toAmanda Reist if you see her. Don't act so simple! Talk to the lady;she's our company. "

"Ach, she's bashful all of a sudden, " said Mrs. Landis, smiling. "Now, Miss Souders, you take your hat off and just make yourself at homewhile I finish gettin' the supper ready. You dare look through themalbums in the front room or set on the front porch. Just make yourselfat home now. "

"Thank you, how lovely!" came the sweet reply. 

A little while later when Martin left her and went to his room toprepare for the evening meal the children, too, scurried away one byone and left Isabel alone. She took swift inventory of the furnishingsof the front room. 

"Dear, " she thought, "what atrocious taste! How can Martin live here?How can he belong to a family like this?"

But later she was all smiles again as Martin joined her and Mrs. Landisbrought her husband into the room to meet the guest. Mr. Landis had, inspite of protests and murmurings, been persuaded to hearken to theadvice of his wife and wear a coat. Likewise the older boys hadfollowed Martin's example and donned the hot woolen articles of dressthey considered superfluous in the house during the summer days. 

Isabel chattered gaily to the men of the Landis household until Mrs. Landis stood in the doorway and announced, "Come now, folks, supper'sdone. "

After the twelve were seated about the big table, Mr. Landis said graceand then Mrs. Landis rose to pour the coffee, several of the boysstarted to pass the platters and dishes around the table and theevening meal on the farm was in full swing. 

"Oh, " piped out little Charlie as he lifted his plate for a slice ofham, "somebody's went and threw all the spoons on the table-cloth!Here's two by my plate. And Emma's got some by her place, too!"

"Sh!" warned Mary, but Mrs. Landis laughed heartily. "Easy seeing, " sheconfessed, "that we ain't used to puttin' on style. Charlie, that's thelatest way of puttin' spoons on. Amanda Reist did it for me. "

"Amanda Reist, " said Mr. Landis. "Why didn't she stay for supper if shewas here when you set the table?"

"I asked her to but she couldn't. "

"Oh, " the guest said, "I think Amanda is the sweetest girl. I just loveher!"

"Me, too, " added Mary. "She's my teacher. "

"Mine too, " said Katie. "I like her. "

The Landis children were taught politeness according to the standardsof their parents, but they had never been told that they should be seenand not heard. Meal-time at the Landis farm was not a quiet time. Thechildren were encouraged to repeat any interesting happening of the dayand there was much laughter and genial conversation and frankexpressions about the taste of the food. 

"Um, ain't that short cake good!" said Charlie, smacking his lips. 

"Delicious, lovely!" agreed the guest. 

"Here, have another piece, " urged Mrs. Landis. "I always make enoughfor two times around. "

"Mom takes care of us, all right, " testified Mr. Landis. 

"Lovely, I'm sure, " Isabel said with a bright smile. 

And so the dinner hour sped and at length all rose and Martin, taggedby two of the younger boys, showed Isabel the garden and yard, whileMrs. Landis with the aid of Mary and one of the boys cleared off andwashed the dishes. Then the entire family gathered on the big porch andthe time passed so quickly in the soft June night that the guestdeclared it had seemed like a mere minute. 

"This is the most lovely, adorable family, " she told them. "I've had awonderful time. How I hate to go back to the noisy city! How I envy youthis lovely porch on such nights!"

Later, when Martin returned from seeing the visitor back to Lancaster, his parents were sitting alone on the porch. 

"Well, Mother, Dad, what do you think of her?" he asked in his boyisheagerness to have their opinion of the girl he thought he was beginningto care for. "Isn't she nice?"

"Seems like a very nice girl, " said his mother with measuredenthusiasm. 

"Oh, Mother, " was the boy's impatient answer, "of course you wouldn'tthink any girl was good enough for your boy! I can see that. If anangel from heaven came down after me you'd find flaws in her. "

"Easy, Mart, " cautioned the father. "Better put on the brakes a bit. Your mom and I think about the same, I guess, that the girl's a likelyenough lady and she surely is easy to look at, but she ain't what we'dpick out for you if we had the say. It's like some of these here fancyridin' horses people buy. They're all right for ridin' but no good forhitchin' to a plow. You don't just want a wife that you can play aroundwith and dress pretty and amuse yourself with. You need a wife that'llwork with you and be a partner and not fail you when trouble comes. Think that over, Mart. "

"Gosh, you talk as though I had asked her to marry me. We are just goodfriends. I enjoy visiting her and hearing her play. "

"Yes, Martin, I know, but life ain't all piano playin' after you getmarried, is it, Mom?"

Mrs. Landis laughed. "No, it's often other kinds of music! But I'm notsorry I'm married. " "Me neither, " confirmed her husband. "And that, Mart, is what you want to watch for when you pick a wife. Pick one sothat after you been livin' together thirty years you can both sayyou're not sorry you married. That's the test!"

"Oh, some test!" the boy said drearily. "I--I guess you're right, bothof you. I guess it isn't a thing to rush into. But you don't knowIsabel. She's really a lovely, sweet girl. "

"Of course she is, " said his mother. "You just hold on to her and gosee her as often as you like. Perhaps when you've been at the bank awhile longer and can afford to get married you'll find she's the veryone you want. Any one you pick we'll like. "

"Yes, of course, yes, " said Mr. Landis. Wise parents! They knew thatdirect opposition to the choice of the son would frustrate their hopesfor him. Let him go on seeing the butterfly and perhaps the sooner he'doutgrow her charms, they thought. 

But later, as Mr. Landis unlaced his shoes and his wife took off herwhite Mennonite cap and combed her hair for the night, that mild mansputtered and stormed. All the gentle acquiescence was fallen from him. "That empty-headed doll has got our Mart just wrapped round her finger!All she can say is 'Delicious, lovely, darling!'"

Mrs. Landis laughed at his imitation of the affected Isabel. 

"Good guns, Mom, if any of our boys tie up with a doll like that it'llbreak our hearts. Why couldn't Mart pick a sensible girl that can cookand ain't too tony nor lazy to do it? A girl like Amanda Reist, now, would be more suited to him. Poor Mart, he's bamboozled if he gets thisone! But if we told him that he'd be so mad he'd run to-morrow andmarry her. We got to be a little careful, I guess. "

"Ach, yes, he'll get over it. He's a whole lot like you and I don'tbelieve he'd marry a girl like that. "

"Well, let's hope he shows as good taste when he picks a wife as I did, ain't, Mom?"

CHAPTER XVI

AUNT REBECCA'S WILL

That summer Aunt Rebecca became ill. Millie volunteered to take care ofher. 

"She ain't got no child to do for her, " said the hired girl, "and abodyfeels forlorn when you're sick. I'll go tend her if you want. "

"Oh, Millie, I'd be so glad if you'd go! Strangers might be ugly toher, for she's a little hard to get along with. And I can't do it totake care of her. "

"You--well, I guess you ain't strong enough to do work like that. Ifshe gets real sick she'll have to be lifted around and she ain't toolight, neither. If you and Amanda can shift here I'll just pack mytelescope and go right over to Landisville. "

So Millie packed and strapped her old gray telescope and went to waiton the sick woman. 

She found Aunt Rebecca in bed, very ill, with a kind neighborministering to her. 

"My goodness, Millie, " she greeted the newcomer, "I never was so gladto see anybody like I am you! You pay this lady for her trouble. Mymoney is in the wash-stand drawer. Lock the drawer open and get it out"

After the neighbor had been paid and departed Millie and the sick womanwere left alone. "Millie, " said Aunt Rebecca, "you stay with me till Igo. Ach, you needn't tell me I'll get well. I know I'm done for. Idon't want a lot o' strangers pokin' round in my things and takin' careof me. I'm crabbit and they don't have no patience. "

"Ach, you'll be around again in no time, " said Millie cheerfully. "Don't you worry. I'll run everything just like it ought to be. I'lltend you so good you'll be up and about before you know it. "

"I'm not so easy fooled. I won't get out of this room till I'm carriedout, I know. My goodness, abody thinks back over a lot o' things whenyou get right sick once! I made a will, Millie, and a pretty good one, "the sick woman laughed as if in enjoyment of a pleasant secret. Hernurse attributed the laughter to delirium. But Aunt Rebecca went on, astonishing the other woman more and deepening the conviction that thestrange talk was due to flightiness. 

"Yes, I made a will! Some people'll say I was crazy, but you tell themfor me I'm as sane as any one. My goodness, can't abody do what abodywants with your own money? Didn't I slave and scratch and skimp likeeverything all my life! And you bet I'm goin' to give that there moneyjust where I want!"

"Ach, people always fuss about wills. It gives them something to talkabout, " said Millie, thinking argument useless. 

"Yes, it won't worry me. I won't hear it. I have it all fixed where andhow I want to be buried, and all about the funeral. I want to have anice funeral, eat in the meeting-house, and have enough to eat, too. Iwas to a funeral once and everything got all before all the people hadeaten. I was close livin', but I ain't goin' to be close dead. "

"Now you go to sleep, " ordered Millie. "You can tell me the rest someother time. "

That evening as Millie sat on a low rocker by the bedside, the dimflare of an oil lamp flickering on the faces of the two women, AuntRebecca told more of the things she was so eager to detail whilestrength lasted. 

"Jonas always thought that if I lived longest half of what I haveshould go back to the Miller people, his side of the family. But I tellyou, Millie, none of them ever come to see me except one or two whocome just for the money. They was wishin' long a'ready I'd die andthey'd get it. But Jonas didn't put that in the will. He left meeverything and he did say once I could do with it what I want. So Imade a will and I'm givin' them Millers five thousand dollars in alland the rest--well, you'll find out what I done with the rest after I'mgone. I never had much good out my money and I'm havin' a lot ofpleasure lyin' here and thinkin' what some people will do with what Ileave them in my will. I had a lot of good that way a'ready since I'msick. People will have something to talk about once when I die. "

And so the sick woman rambled on, while Millie thought the fever causedthe strange words and paid little attention to their import. But, several weeks later, when the querulous old woman closed her eyes inher long, last sleep, Millie, who had nursed her so faithfully, remembered each detail of the funeral as Aunt Rebecca had told her andsaw to it that every one was carried out. 

According to her wishes, Aunt Rebecca was robed in white for burial. The cashmere dress was fashioned, of course, after the garb she hadworn so many years, and was complete with apron, pointed cape, all inwhite. Her hair was parted and folded under a white cap as it had beenin her lifetime. She looked peaceful and happy as she lay in the parlorof her little home in Landisville. A smile seemed to have fixed itselfabout her lips as though the pleasant thoughts her will had occasionedlingered with her to the very last. 

She had stipulated that short services be held at the house, then thebody taken to the church and a public service held and after intermentin the old Mennonite graveyard at Landisville, a public dinner to beserved in the basement of the meeting-house, as is frequently thecustom in that community. 

The service of the burial of the dead is considered by the plain sectsas a sacred obligation to attend whenever possible. Relatives, friends, and members of the deceased's religious sect, drive many miles to paytheir last respects to departed ones. The innate hospitality of thePennsylvania Dutch calls for the serving of a light lunch after thefuneral. Relatives, friends, who have come from a distance or liveclose by, and all others who wish to partake of it, are welcomed. Therefore most meeting-houses of the plain sects have their basementsfitted with long tables and benches, a generous supply of china andcutlery, a stove big enough for making many quarts of coffee. And afterthe burial willing hands prepare the food and many take advantage ofthe proffered hospitality and file to the long tables, where bread, cheese, cold meat, coffee and sometimes beets and pie, await them. Thiswas an important portion of what Aunt Rebecca called a "nice funeral, "and it was given to her. 

Later in the day, while the nearest relatives were still together inthe little house at Landisville, the lawyer arrived and read the will. 

The Millers, who were so eager for their legacies, were impatient withall the legal phrasing, "Being of sound mind" and so forth. They sat upmore attentively when the lawyer read, "do hereby bequeath. "

First came the wish that all real estate be sold, that personalproperty be given to her sister, the sum of five hundred dollars begiven to the Mennonite Church at Landisville for the upkeep of theburial ground. Then the announcement of the sum of five thousanddollars to be equally divided among the heirs of Jonas Miller, deceased, the sum of five thousand dollars to her brother Amos Rohrer, a like amount to her sister, Mrs. Reist, the sum of ten thousanddollars to Martin Landis, husband of Elizabeth Anders, and theremainder, if any, to be divided equally between said brother Amos andsister Mary. 

"Martin Landis!" exploded one of the Miller women, "who under the sunis he? To get ten thousand dollars of Rebecca's money!"

"I'll tell you, " spoke up Uncle Amos, "he's an old beau of hers. "

"Well, who ever heard of such a thing! And here we are, her own blood, you might say, close relations of poor Jonas, and we get only fivethousand to be divided into about twenty shares! It's an outrage! Sucha will ought to be broken!"

"I guess not, " came Uncle Amos's firm reply. "It was all Rebecca'smoney and hers to do with what suited her. She's made me think a wholelot more of her by this here will. I'm glad to know she didn't forgether old beau. She was a little prickly on the outside sometimes, but Iguess her heart was soft after all. It's all right, it's all right, that will is! It ain't for us to fuss about. She could have give thewhole lot of it to some cat home or spent it while she lived. It was_hers_! If that's all, lawyer, I guess we'll go. Mary and I aresatisfied and the rest got to be. I bet Rebecca got a lot o' goodthinkin' how Martin Landis would get the surprise of his life when shewas in her grave. "

In a short time the news spread over the rural community that RebeccaMiller willed Martin Landis ten thousand dollars! Some said facetiouslythat it might be a posthumous thank-offering for what she missed whenshe refused to marry him. Others, keen for romance, repeated asentimental story about a broken heart and a lifelong sorrow because ofher foolish inability to see what was best for her and how at the closeof her life she conceived the beautiful thought of leaving him themoney so that he might know she had never forgotten him and so that hemight remember his old sweetheart. But in whatever form the incidentwas presented it never failed to evoke interest. "Ten thousand dollarsfrom an old girl! What luck!" exclaimed many. 

If persons not directly concerned in the ten thousand dollar legacywere surprised what word can adequately describe the emotion of MartinLandis when Amanda's verbal report of it was duly confirmed by a legalnotice from the lawyer!

"Good guns, Mom!" the man said in astonishment. "I can't make it out! Ican't get head nor tail out the thing. What ailed Becky, anyhow? To doa thing like that! I feel kinda mean takin' so much money. It ought togo to Amos and Mary. They got five thousand apiece and somebody saidthe farms will bring more than Becky thought and by the time they aresold and everything divided Amos and Mary will get about eleventhousand each. It's right for them to get it, but it don't seem rightfor me to have it. "

But Millie soon paid a visit to the Landis home and repeated many ofthe things Aunt Rebecca had told her those last evenings by the lightof the little oil lamp. "She said, Mr. Landis, that one day she waslookin' at the big Bible and come across an old valentine you sent herwhen you and she was young. It said on it, 'If I had the world I'd giveyou half of it. ' And that set her thinkin' what a nice surprise shecould fix up if she'd will you some of her money. And she said, too, that Jonas was a good man but it worried her that she broke off with apoor man to marry a rich one when she liked the poor one best. I guessall that made her so queer and crabbit. She never let on when she waswell that she wished she'd married you but when she come to die shedidn't care much if it was found out. You just take that there moneyand enjoy it; that's what Rebecca wanted you should do. "

"Yes, I guess she wanted me to have it, " the man said thoughtfully. "But it beats me why she did it. Why, I'd almost forgot that I everkept company with her and was promised to marry her. It's so long ago. "

"Men do forget, " said Millie. "I guess it's the women that remember. But the money's for you, that's her will, and she said I should be sureto see that the will is carried out and that the money goes where shesaid. "

"Yes--we can use it. We'll be glad for it. I wish I could say thanks toBecky for it. It don't seem right by Amos and Mary, though. "

"Ach, they don't need it. They got lots a'ready. The only ones thatbegrudge it are the relations of Jonas. None of them come to shake up apillow for poor Rebecca or bring her an orange or get her a drink ofwater, but they come when the will was read. I just like to see suchpeople get fooled! They wanted a lot and got a little and you didn'texpect nothin' and look what you got! There's some nice surprises inthe world, for all, ain't!"

CHAPTER XVII

MARTIN'S DARK HOUR

That summer Martin Landis was well pleased with the world in general. He enjoyed his work at the bank, where his cordiality and adeptness, his alert, receptive mind, were laying for him a strong foundation fora successful career. 

He called often at the home of Isabel Souders, listened to her playing, made one in an occasional game of cards, escorted her to musicals anddramas. He played and talked and laughed with her, but he soondiscovered that he could not interest her in any serious matter. At themention of his work, beyond the merest superficialities, she lifted herhands and said in laughing tones, "Please, Martin, don't talk shop!Father never does. I'm like Mother, I don't want to hear the pettydetails of money-making--all that interests me is the money itself. Dadsays I'm spoiled--I suppose I am. "

At such times the troublesome memory of his father's words came to him, "You need a wife that will work with you and be a partner and not failyou when trouble comes. " Try as he would the young man could notobliterate those haunting words from his brain. Sometimes he feltalmost convinced in his own heart that he loved Isabel Souders--she wasso appealing and charming and, while she rebuffed his confidences abouthis work, nevertheless showed so deep an interest in him generally, that he was temporarily blinded by it and excused her lack of realinterest on the world-old ground that pretty women are not supposed tobother about prosaic affairs of the male wage-earners of the race. 

There were moments when her beauty so thrilled him that he felt movedto tell her he loved her and wanted to marry her, but somewhere in thesubconscious mind of him must have dwelt the succinct words of theposter, "When in doubt, _don't!_" So the moments of fascinationpassed and the words of love were left unsaid. 

"Some day, " he thought, "I'll know, I'll be sure. It will probably cometo me like a flash of lightning whether I love her or not. I shouldn'tbe so undecided. I think if it were the real thing I feel for her therewould be not the shadow of a doubt in my heart concerning it. A manshould feel that the woman he wants to marry is the only one in theuniverse for him. Somehow, I can't feel that about her. But there's nohurry about marrying. We'll just go on being capital friends. MeanwhileI can be saving money so that if the time comes when I marry I'll beable to support a wife. Things look pretty rosy for me at present. Since Father is fixed with that legacy and the boys are old enough totake my place on the farm I have time to study and advance. I'm in luckall around; guess I got a horseshoe round my neck!"

But the emblem of good luck must have soon lost its potency. The bankforce was surprised one day by an unexpected examination of the books. 

"What's the trouble?" asked Martin of another worker in the bank. 

"I don't know. Ask old Buehlor. He acts as though he knew. "

Martin approached the gray-haired president, who was stamping about hisplace like an angry dog on leash. "Anything the matter, sir? Can I helpin any way?"

"Why, yes, there seems to be, " he snapped. "Come in, Landis. " He openedthe door of his private office and Martin followed him inside. He gaveone long look into the face of the young man--"I'm going to tell you. Perhaps you can make things easier for us to adjust in case there'sanything wrong. An investigation has been ordered. One of our heaviestdepositors seems to have some inside information that some one isspending the bank's money for personal use. "

"Good guns! In this bank? A thief?" Horror was printed on the face ofMartin. 

The man opposite searched that face. "Yes--I might as well tell you--Ifeel like a brute to do so--if it's false it's a damnable trick, forsuch a thing is a fiendish calumny for an honest man to bear--you'rethe man under suspicion. "

Martin sat up, his eyes wide in horror, then his chest collapsed andhis neck felt limber. "Oh, my God, " he whispered, as though in appealto the Infinite Father of Mercy and Justice, "what a thing to say aboutme! What a lie!"

"It's a lie?" asked the older man tersely. 

"Absolutely! I've never stolen anything since the days I wore shortpants and climbed the neighbors' trees for apples. Who says it?"

"Well, I can't divulge that now. Perhaps later. "

Martin groaned. To be branded a thief was more than he could bear. Hisface went whiter. 

"See here, " said the old man, "I almost shocked you to death, but I hada purpose in it. I couldn't believe that of you and knew I'd be able toread your face. You know, I believe you! It's all some infernal mistakeor plot. You're not a clever enough actor to feign such distress andinnocence. Go out and get some air and come back to-morrow morning. I'll stand for you in the meantime. I believe in you. "

"Thank you, sir, " Martin managed to blurt out between dry lips thatseemed almost paralyzed. "I'll be back in the morning. Hope you'll findI'm telling the truth. "

He walked as a somnambulist down the street. In his misery he thoughtof Isabel Souders. He would go to her for comfort. She'd understand andbelieve in him! He yearned like a hurt child for the love andtenderness of some one who could comfort him and sweep the demons ofdistress from his soul. He wanted to see Isabel, only Isabel! He feltrelieved that no older member of the household was at home at thattime, that the colored servant who answered his ring at the bell saidIsabel was alone and would see him at once. 

"What's wrong?" the girl asked as she entered the room where he waitedfor her. "You look half dead!"

"I am, Isabel, " he said chokingly. "I've had a death-blow. They areaccusing me of stealing the bank's money. "

"Oh, Martin! Oh, how dreadful! I'll never forgive you!" The girl spokein tearful voice. "How perfectly dreadful to have such a thing saidafter Father got you into the bank! Your reputation is ruined for life!You can never live down such a disgrace. "

"But I didn't do it!" he cried. "You must know I couldn't have doneit!"

"Oh, I suppose you didn't if you say so, but people always are ready tosay that where there's smoke there must be some fire! Oh, dear, peopleknow you're a friend of mine and next thing the papers will link ournames in the notoriety and--oh, what a dreadful thing to happen!They'll print horrible things about you and may drag me into it, too!Say you spent the money on me, or something like that! Father will beso mortified and sorry he helped you. Oh, dear, I think it's dreadful, dreadful!" She burst into weeping. 

As Martin watched her and listened to her utterly selfish words, inspite of the misery in his heart, he was keenly conscious that she wasbeing weighed in the balance and found wanting. The lightning flash hadcome to him and revealed how impotent she was, how shallow and selfish. 

"Well, don't cry about it, " he said, half bitterly, yet too crushed tobe aught but gentle. "It won't hurt you. I'll see to that. If there'sanything to bear I'll bear it alone. My shoulders are broad. "

There was more futile exchange of words, words that lacked any comfortor hope for the broken-hearted man. Martin soon left and started forhis home. 

Home--he couldn't go there and tell his people that he was suspected ofa crime. Home--its old sweet meaning would be changed for all of themif one of its flock was blackened. 

He flurried past the Reist farmhouse, head down like a criminal so thatnone should recognize him. With quick steps that almost merged into arun he went up the road. When he reached the little Crow Hillschoolhouse a sudden thought came to him. He climbed the rail fence andentered the woods, plodded up the hill to the spot where Amanda'smoccasins grew each spring. There he threw himself on the grassy slope, face down, and gave vent to his despair. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE COMFORTER

Amanda Reist knew the woods so well that she never felt any fear as shewandered about in them. That August morning as she climbed the fence bythe school-yard and sauntered along the narrow paths between the treesshe hummed a little song--not because of any particular happiness, butbecause the sky was blue and the woods were green and she loved to beoutdoors. 

She climbed the narrow trail, gathering early goldenrod, which shesuddenly dropped, and stood still. Before her, a distance of abouttwenty feet, lay the figure of a man, face down on the ground, his armsflung out, his hair disheveled. A great fear rose in her heart. Was ita tramp, an intoxicated wanderer, was he dead? She shrank from thesight and took a few backward steps, feeling a strong impulse to run, yet held riveted to the spot by some inexplicable, irresistible force. 

The figure moved slightly--why, it looked like Martin Landis! But hewouldn't be lying so in the grass at that time of day! The face of theman was suddenly turned to her and a cry came from her lips--it_was_ Martin Landis! But what a Martin Landis! Haggard and lined, his face looked like the face of a debilitated old man. 

"Martin, " she called, anxiously. "Martin!"

He raised his head and leaned on his elbow. "Oh, " he groaned, thenturned his head away. 

She ran to him then and knelt beside him in the grass. "What's wrong, Martin?" she asked, all the love in her heart rushing to meet the needof her "knight. " "Tell me what's the matter. "

"They say I'm a thief!"

"Who says so?" she demanded, a Xantippe-like flash in her eyes. 

"The bank, they're examining the books, swooped down like a lot ofvultures and hunting for carrion right now. "

"For goodness' sake! Martin! Sit up and tell me about it! Don't coveryour face as though you _were_ a thief! Of course there's somemistake, there must be! Get up, tell me. Let's sit over on that old logand get it straightened out. "

Spurred by her words he raised himself and she mechanically brushed thedry leaves from his coat as they walked to a fallen log and sat down. 

"Now tell me, " she urged, "the whole story. "

Haltingly he told the tale, though the process hurt. 

"And you ran away, " she exclaimed when he had finished. "You didn'twait to see what the books revealed? You ran right out here?"

"Yes--no, I stopped at Isabel's. "

"Oh"--Amanda closed her eyes a moment--it had been Isabel first again!She quickly composed herself to hear what the city girl had done in theman's hour of trial. "Isabel didn't believe it, of course?" she askedquietly. 

"No, I suppose she didn't. But she cried and fussed and said myreputation was ruined for life and even if my innocence is proved I cannever wholly live down such a reputation. She was worried because thething may come out in the papers and her name brought into it. She'smighty much upset about Isabel Souders, didn't care a picayune aboutMartin Landis. "

"She'll get over it, " Amanda told him, a lighter feeling in her heart. "What we are concerned about now is Martin Landis. You should havestayed and seen it through, faced them and demanded the lie to betraced to its source. Why, Martin, cheer up, this can't harm you!"

"My reputation, " he said gloomily. 

"Yes, your reputation is what people think you are, but your characteris what you really are. A noble character can often change a veryquestionable reputation. You know you are honest as the day is long--weare all sure of that, all who know you. Martin, nothing can hurt_you!_ People can make you unhappy by such lies and cause the roadto be a little harder to travel but no one except yourself can evertouch _you!_ Your character is impregnable. Brace up! Go back andtell them it's a lie and then prove it!"

"Amanda"--the man's voice quavered. "Amanda, you're an angel! You makeme buck up. When you found me I felt as though a load of bricks werethrown on my heart, but I'm beginning to see a glimmer of light. Ofcourse, I can prove I'm innocent!"

"Listen, look!" Amanda whispered. She laid a hand upon his arm whileshe pointed with the other to a tree near by. 

There sat an indigo bunting, that tiny bird of blue so intense that thevery skies look pale beside it and among all the blue flowers of ourland only the fringed gentian can rival it. With no attempt to hide hisgorgeous self he perched in full view on a branch of the tree and beganto sing in rapid notes. What the song lacked in sweetness was quiteforgotten as they looked at the lovely visitant. 

"There's your blue bunting of hope, " said Amanda as the bird suddenlybecame silent as though he were out of breath or too tired to finishthe melody. 

"He's wonderful, " said Martin, a light of hope once more in his eyes. 

"Yes, he is wonderful, not only because of his fine color but becausehe's the one bird that sultry August weather can't still. When allothers are silent he sings, halts a while, then sings again. That iswhy I said he is your blue bunting of hope. Isn't it like that with us?When other feelings are gone hope stays with us, never quite desertsus--hear him!"

True to his reputation the indigo bird burst once more into song, thenoff he flew, still singing his clear, rapid notes. 

"Amanda, " the man said as the blue wings carried the bird out of sight, "you've helped me--I can't tell you how much! I'm going back to thebank and face that lie. If I could only find out who started it!"

"I don't know, but I'd like to bet Mr. Mertzheimer is back of it, somehow. The old man is a heavy depositor there, isn't he?"

"Yes, but why under the sun would he say such a thing about me? I neverliked Lyman and he had no love for me, but he has no cause to bear meill will. I haven't anything he wants, I'm sure. "

"No?" The girl bit her lip and felt her cheeks burn. 

Martin looked at her, amazed. Why was she blushing? Surely, she didn'tlike Lyman Mertzheimer!

"Oh, Martin, " she was thinking, "how blind you are! You do havesomething Lyman Mertzheimer wants. I can see through it all. He thinkswith you disgraced I'll have eyes for him at last. The cheat! Thecheat!" she said out loud. 

"What?" asked Martin. 

"He's a cheat, Lyman is. I hope he gets what's coming to him some dayand I get a chance to see it! You see if that precious father of his isnot at the bottom of all this worry for you!"

"It may be. I'm going in to Lancaster and find out. If he is, and if Iever get my hands on him---"

"Good-bye Lyman!" said Amanda, laughing. "But you wouldn't want totouch anything as low as he is. "

"I'd hate to have the chance; I'd pound him to jelly. "

"Oh, no, you wouldn't. You'd just look at him and he'd shrivel tillhe'd look like a dried crabapple snitz!"

Both laughed at the girl's words. A moment later they rose from the oldlog and walked down the path. When they had climbed the fence and stoodin the hot, sunny road Martin said, "I guess I'll go home and getcleaned up. " He rubbed a hand through his tumbled hair. 

"And get something to eat, " she added. "By that time you'll be ready, like Luther, to face a horde of devils. "

"Thanks to you, " he said. "I'll never forget this half-hour just gone. Your blue bunting of hope will be singing in my heart whenever thingsgo wrong. You said a few things to me that I couldn't forget ifI wanted to--for instance, that nothing, nobody, can hurt _me_, except myself. That's something to keep in mind. I feel equal to fightnow, fight for my reputation. Some kind providence must have sent youup the hill to find me. "

"Ach, " she said depreciatively, "I didn't do a thing but steady you upa bit. I'm glad I happened to come up and see you. Go tell them ifthey're hunting for a thief they're looking in the wrong direction whenthey look at Martin Landis! Hurry! So you can get back before theythink you've run away. I'll be so anxious to hear how much theMertzheimers have to do with this. I can see their name written allover it!"

Smiling, almost happy again, the man turned down the road to his homeand Amanda went on to the Reist farmhouse. She, too, was smiling as shewent. She had read between the lines of the man's story and had seenthere the moving finger writing above the name of Isabel Souders, "_Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin_. "

CHAPTER XIX

VINDICATION

When Martin Landis entered the bank early in the afternoon of that sameday he presented a different appearance from that of his departure inthe morning. His head was held erect, his step determined, as he openedthe swinging door of the bank and entered. 

"What--Landis, you back?" Mr. Buehlor greeted him, while the quizzicaleyes of the old man looked into those of the younger. 

"I'm back and I'm back to get this hideous riddle solved and the slatewashed clean. "

"Come in, come in!" Mr. Buehlor drew him into a little room and closedthe door. "Sit down, Landis. "

"Well, how much is the bank short?" He looked straight into the eyes ofthe man who, several hours before, had dealt him such a death-blow. 

"So far everything is right, right as rain! There's a mistake or adamnable dirty trick somewhere. "

"Let's sift it out, Mr. Buehlor. Will you tell me who had the 'insideinformation' that I was taking bank's money?"

"I'll tell you! It was a farmer near your home---"

"Mr. Mertzheimer?" offered Martin. 

"The same! He asked to have you watched, then changed it and insistedon having the books examined. Said your people are poor--forgive me, Landis, but I have to tell you the whole story. "

"Don't mind that. That's a mere scratch after what I got this morning. "

"Well, he said your father had a mortgage on his farm up to the timeyou came to work in the bank, then suddenly it was paid and soon afterthe house was painted, a new bathroom installed, electric lights putinto the house and steam heat, a Victrola and an automobile bought. Infact, your people launched out as though they had found a gold mine, and that in spite of the fact that your crop of tobacco was ruined byhail and the other income from the farm products barely enough to keepthings going until another harvest. He naturally thought you must havea hand in supplying the money and with your moderate salary youcouldn't do half of that. He talked with several of the bank directorsand an investigation was ordered. You'll admit his story soundedplausible. It looked pretty black for you. "

"To you, yes! But not to him! Mr. Mertzheimer knows well enough wherethat money came from. My father had a legacy of ten thousand dollarsthis spring. You people could have found that out with very littletrouble. "

"We're a pack of asinine blunderers, Landis!" Mr. Buehlor lookedfoolish. Then he sighed relievedly. "That clears matters for you. I'mglad. I couldn't conceive of you as anything but honest, Landis. Buttell me about that legacy--a pretty nice sum. "

"It's a romantic little story. An old sweetheart of my father, one whomust have carried under her prickly exterior a bit of tender romanceand who liked to do things other people never dreamed of doing, lefthim ten thousand dollars. She was a queer old body. Had no directheirs, so she left Father ten thousand dollars for a littleremembrance! It was that honest money that paid for the conveniences inour house, the second-hand car Father bought and the Victrola he gaveMother because we are all crazy for music and had nothing to create anymelody except an old parlor organ that sounded wheezy after nine babieshad played on it. "

"Landis, forgive me; we're a set of fools!" The old man extended hishand and looked humbly into the face of Martin. The two gripped hands, each feeling emotion too great for words. 

After a moment's silence Mr. Buehlor spoke. 

"This goes no farther. Your reputation is as safe as mine. If I haveanything to say you'll be eligible for the first vacancy in the line ofadvancement. As for that Mertzheimer, he can withdraw his account fromour bank to-day for all we care. We can do business without him. But itpuzzles me--what object did he have? If he knew of the legacy, and hecertainly did, he must have known you were O. K. Is he an enemy ofyours?"

"Not particularly. I never liked his son but we never had any realtilts. "

"You don't happen to want the same girl he wants, or anything likethat?"

"No--well now--why, I don't know!" A sudden revelation came to Martin. Perhaps Lyman thought he had a rival in him. That would explain much. "There's a son, as I said, and we know a girl I think he's been crazyabout for years. Perhaps he thinks I'm after her, too. "

"I see, " chuckled the old man. "Well, if the girl's the right sort shewon't have to toss a penny to decide which one to choose. " He noted theembarrassment of Martin and changed the subject. 

But later in the afternoon as Martin walked down the road from thetrolley and drew near the Reist farmhouse the old man's words recurredto him. Why, he'd known Amanda Reist all his life! He had never dreamedshe could comfort and help a man as she had done that morning in thewoods. Amanda was a fine girl, a great pal, a woman with a heart. 

Now Isabel--a great disgust rose in him for the sniveling, selfishlittle thing and her impotence in the face of his trouble. "She's justthe kind to play with, " he thought, "just a doll, and like the doll, has as much heart as a thing stuffed with sawdust can have. I guess ittook this jolt to wake me up and know that Isabel Souders is not thetype of girl for me. "

When he reached the Reist home he found Amanda and her Uncle Amos onthe porch. 

"Oh, it's all right!" the girl cried as he came into the yard. "I canread it in your face. " Gladness rang in her voice like a bell. 

"It's all right, " Martin told her. 

"Good! I'm glad, " said Uncle Amos while Amanda smiled her happiness. 

"Was I right?" she asked. "Was it the work of Mertzheimers?"

"It was. They must hate me like poison. "

"Ach, he's a copperhead, " said Uncle Amos. "He's so pesky low and meanhe can't bear to see any one else be honest. You're gettin' up too farto suit him. It's always so that when abody climbs up the ladder alittle there's some settin' at the foot ready to joggle it, and thehigher abody climbs the more are there to help try to shake you down. Iguess there's mean people everywheres, even in this here beautifulGarden Spot. But to my notion you got to just go on doin' right and notmind 'em. They'll get what they earn some day. Nobody has yet sowedweeds and got a crop of potatoes from it. "

"But, " said the girl, "I can't understand it. The Mertzheimer peoplecome from good families and they have certainly been taught to bedifferent. I can't see where they get their mean streak. With all theirmoney and chance to improve and opportunities for education andculture---"

"Ach, money"--said Uncle Amos--"what good does money do them if theydon't have the right mind to use it? My granny used to say still youcan tie a silk ribbon round a pig's neck but she'll wallow in the dirtjust the same first chance she'll get. I guess some people are likethat. Well, Martin, I'm goin' in to tell Millie--the women--it's allright with you. They was so upset about it. And won't Millie talk!" Hechuckled at the thought of what that staunch woman would say about Mr. Mertzheimer. "Millie can hit the nail on the head pretty good, prettygood, " he said as he ambled into the house. 

Martin lingered on the porch with Amanda till the sound of the Landissupper bell called him home. 

CHAPTER XX

DINNER AT LANDIS'S

The following afternoon little Katie Landis came running down the roadand in at the Reist gate. She greeted Amanda with, "Mom says you got tocome to our place for supper. "

"To-day?"

"Yes. She's goin' to kill two chickens and have a big time and shewants you to come. "

"Anybody coming? Any company?"

"No, just you. "

"All right. Tell Mother I said thank you and I'll be glad to come. "

"All right, I'll run and tell her. I'm in a hurry, for me and Emma'splayin' house and I got to get back to my children before they miss meand set up a howlin'. " She looked very serious as she ran off down thelane, Amanda smiling after her. 

Later, as the girl went down the road to the Landis home she wonderedwhose birthday it might be, or what the cause of celebration. The childhad been in such great haste--but what matter the significance of thefestivity so long as she was asked to enjoy it!

"Here's Amanda!" shouted several of the children gleefully, very boldlydropping the Miss they were obliged to use during school hours. 

The guest found Mrs. Landis stirring up a blackberry pone, the threeyoungest Landis children watching the progress of it. 

"Oh, hello, Amanda. I'm glad you got here early. Look at thesechildren, all waitin' for the dish to lick. Don't it beat all howchildren like raw dough! I used to, but I wouldn't eat it now if youpaid me. "

"So did I. Millie chased me many a time. "

"Well, people's tastes change in more than one way when they get older. I guess it's a good thing. Here, Katie, take that doll off of thatchair so Amanda can find a place to sit down. You got every chair inthe house littered up with things. Ach, Amanda, I scold still abouttheir things laying round but I guess folks that ain't got childrenwould sometimes be glad if they could see toys and things round theplace. They get big soon enough and the dolls are put away. My, thiswill be an awful lonely house when the children all grow up! I'd rathersee it this way, with their things scattered all around. But the boysare worse than the girls. What Charlie don't have in his pants pocketain't in the 'cyclopedia. Martin was that way, too. He had an old boxin the wood-shed and it was stuffed with all the twine and wire andnails he could find. But now, Amanda, ain't it good he got that allmade right at the bank so they know he ain't a thief?

My, that was an awful sin for Mr. Mertzheimer to make our Mart out athief! I just wonder how he could be so mean and ugly. I guess youwonder why I asked you up to-night. It ain't nothin' special, just alittle good time because Martin got proved honest again. I just said toMister this morning that I'm so glad for Martin I feel like makin'something extra for supper and ask you up for you ain't been here for ameal for long. "

"It's grand to ask me to it. "

"Ach, we don't mind you. You're just like one of the family, abodymight say. We won't fix like for company, eat in the room or anythinglike that. "

"Well, I hope not. I'm no company. Let's eat in the kitchen and haveeverything just as you do when the family's alone. "

"Yes, " agreed Mrs. Landis. "That will be more homelike. "

Mary helped to set the table in the big kitchen. 

"Shall I lay the spoons on the table-cloth like we did when Isabel washere?" she asked her mother. 

"Better put them in the spoon-holder, " Amanda told her. "I'm nocompany. "

"I'm glad you ain't. I don't like tony company like that girl was. Sheput on too much when she talked. And she had the funniest cheeks! Onceshe wiped her face when it was hot and pink came off on herhandkerchief. "

Amanda laughed and kept smiling as she helped the child set the tablefor supper. Later she offered her services to Mrs. Landis. Martin, coming in from the dusty road, found her before the stove, one of hismother's gingham aprons tied around her waist, and turning sweetpotatoes in a big iron pan. 

"Why, hello!" he said, pleasure written in his face. "Katie ran to meetme and said I couldn't guess who was here for supper. Has Mother gotyou working? Um, " he sniffed, "smells awful much like chicken!"

"Ach, " his mother told him, "you just hold your nose shut a while! Youand your pop can smell chicken off a mile. But you dare ring the supperbell, Martin, before you go up-stairs to wash, so your pop and the boyscan come in now and get ready, too. "

Soon the savory, smoking dishes were all placed on the big table in thekitchen and the family with their guest gathered for the meal. 

"Ain't I dare keep my coat off, Mom?" asked Mr. Landis, his faceflushed from a long hot day in the fields. 

"Why, yes, if Amanda don't care. "

"Why should I? Look at my cool dress! Take your coat off, Martin. Inever could see why men should roast while we keep comfortable. "

As Martin stripped the serge coat off he thought of that other dinnerwhen coats were kept on and dinner eaten in "the room" because of thepresence of one who might take offense if she were expected to sharethe plain, every-day ways of the family. What a fool he had been! Theirbest efforts at style and convention must have looked very amateurishand incomplete to her--what a fool he had been!

"Ah, that looks good!" Mr. Landis said after he had said grace andeverybody waited for the food to be passed. "Now we'll just hand theplatter around and let everybody help themselves, not so, Mom?"

"Yes, that's all right. Start the potatoes once, Martin. Now you musteat, Amanda. Just make yourself right at home. "

"Martin, you must eat hearty, too, ", said the father. "Your mom madethis supper for you. "

"For me? What's the idea? Feeding the prodigal? Fatted calf and allthat, Mother?" the boy asked, smiling, "Calf--nothing!" exclaimed little Charlie. "It's them two roosters Momsaid long a'ready she's goin' to kill once and cook and here they are!"

Charlie wondered why everybody laughed at that but he soon forgot aboutit as his mother handed him a plate piled high with food. 

Amanda scarcely knew what she was eating that day. Each mouthful hadthe taste of nectar and ambrosia to her. If she could _belong_ toa family like that! She adored her own people and felt certain that noone could wish for a finer family than the one in which she had beenplaced, but it seemed, by comparison with the Landis one, a very small, quiet family. She wished she could be a part of both, make the twelfthin that charming circle in which she sat that day. 

After supper Mrs. Landis turned to Amanda--"Now you stay a while andhear our new pieces on the Victrola. "

"I'll help you with the dishes, " she offered. 

"Ach, no, it ain't necessary. Mary and I will get them done up in notime. You just go in the room and enjoy yourself. "

With little Katie leading the way and Martin following Amanda went tothe sitting-room and sat down while Martin opened the Victrola. 

"What do you like?" he asked. "Something lively? Or do you like softmusic better?"

"I like both. What are your new pieces?"

"McCormack singing 'Mother Machree---'"

"Oh, I like that! Play that!"

As the soft, haunting melody of "Mother Machree" sounded in the roomMrs. Landis came to the door of the sitting-room, dish towel in hand. 

"Ach, " she said after the last verse, "I got that record most wore outa'ready. Ain't it the prettiest song? When I hear that I think stillthat if only one of my nine children feels that way about me I'm morethan paid for any bother I had with them. "

"Then, Mother, " said Martin, "you should feel more than nine timespaid, for we all feel that way about you. "

"Listen, now!" The mother's eyes were misty as she looked at her first-born. "Ach, play it again. I only hope poor Becky knows how much goodher money's doin' us!"

Later Martin walked with Amanda up the moonlit road to her home. "I'vehad a lovely time, Martin, " she told him. "You do have the nicest, lively family! I wish we had a tableful like that!"

"You wouldn't wish it at dish-washing time, I bet! But they are alively bunch. I wonder sometimes how Mother escapes _nerves_. Ifshe feels irritable or tired she seldom shows it. I believe six of uscan ask her questions at once and she knows how to answer each in itsturn. But Mother never does much useless worrying. That keeps heryouthful and calm. She has often said to us, 'What's the use ofworrying? Worrying never gets you anywhere except into hot water--sowhat's the use of it?' That's a pet philosophy of hers. "

"I remember that. I've heard her say it. Your mother's wonderful!"

"She thinks the same about you, Amanda, for she said so the other day. "

"Me?" The girl turned her face from him so that the moonlight might notreveal her joy. 

"You, " he said happily, laughing in boyish contentment. "We thinkAmanda Reist is all right. "

The girl was glad they had reached the gate of her home. She fumbledwith the latch and escaped an answer to the man's words. Then theyspoke commonplace good-nights and parted. 

That night as she brushed her hair she stood a long time before themirror. "Amanda Reist, " she said to the image in the glass, "you bettertake care--next thing you know you'll be falling in love!" She leanedcloser to the glass. "Oh, I'll have to keep that shine from my eyes!It's there just because Martin walked home with me and was kind. Idon't look as though I need any boneset tea _now!"_

CHAPTER XXI

BERRYING

The next morning Amanda helped her mother with the Saturday bakingwhile Millie and Uncle Amos tended market. 

"This hot weather the pies get soft till Sunday if we bake them a'readyon Friday, " Mrs. Reist said to Millie, "so Amanda and I can do thebakin' while you go to market. I guess we'll have a lot of companyagain this Sunday, with church near here. "

"All right, let 'em come, " said the hired girl composedly. "I don'tcare if you don't. It's a good thing we all like company pretty good, for I think sometimes people take this place for a regular boarding-house, the way they drop in at any time, just as like when we're readyto set down for a meal as at any other hour. Philip said last week, when that Sallie Snyder dropped in just at dinner, that he's goin' topaint a sign, 'Mad Dog, ' and hang it on the gate. But I think we mightas well put one up, 'Meals served at all hours, ' but ach, that'sLancaster County for you!"

Mrs. Reist liked to do her baking early in the day. So it happened thatwhen Martin Landis stopped in to see Amanda before he went to his workin the city he saw on the kitchen table a long row of pies ready forthe oven and Amanda deftly rolling the edge of another. 

"Whew!" he whistled. "Mrs. Reist, is that your work or Amanda's soearly in the morning?"

"Amanda's! My granny used to say still that no girl was ready to getmarried till she could roll out a thin pie dough. I guess my girl isalmost ready, for she got hers nice and thin this morning. Ach, " shethought in dismay as she saw the girl's face flush, "now why did I saythat? I didn't think how it would sound. But Amanda needn't mindMartin!"

Merry little twinkles played around Martin's gray eyes as he answered, "I see. Looks as if Amanda's ready for a husband--if she's going tofeed him on pies!"

"On pies--Martin Landis!" scorned the girl. "I'd have a dyspeptic on myhands after a few days of pie diet. "

"Well, you'd make a pretty good nurse, I believe. "

"Nurse--not me! The only thing I know how to nurse is hurt birds andlame bunnies and such things. You just lay them in a box and feed them, and if they get well you clap your hands, and if they die you put someleaves and flowers on them and bury them out in the woods--remember howwe used to do that?"

"Do I? I should say I do! The time we had the fence hackey that LymanMertzheimer hurt with a stone--"

"Oh, and I nursed him and fed him, and when I let him go he bit myfinger! I remember that! I was so cross at him I cried. "

"Wretch that he was, " said Martin. "But if we begin talking about thosedays I won't get to work. I stopped in to ask you to go berrying withus this afternoon. I get out of the bank early. We can go up to thewoods back of the schoolhouse. The youngsters are anxious to go, andMother won't let them go alone, since that copperhead was killed nearhere. I promised to take them, and we'd all like to have you come. "

"I'd love to go. I'll be all ready. I haven't gone for blackberries allseason. "

"That's true, we've been missing lots of fun. " He looked at her asthough he were seeing her after a long absence. Somehow, he had missedsomething worth while from his life during the time his head had beenturned by Isabel, and he had passed Amanda with a smile and a greetingand had no hours of companionship with her. Why, he didn't rememberthat her eyes were so bright, that her red hair waved so becomingly, that--

"I'll bring a kettle, " she said. "I'm going to pick till I fill it, too, just as we did when we were youngsters. "

"All right. We'll meet you at the schoolhouse. "

The spur of mountains near Crow Hill was a favorite berrying range forthe people of that section of Lancaster County. In July and Augusthuckleberries, elders and blackberries grew there in fragrantluxuriance. 

When Amanda, in an old dress of cool green, a wide-brimmed hat on herhead, came in sight of the schoolhouse, she saw the Landis partyapproaching it from the other direction. She swung her tin pail ingreeting. 

"Oh, there's Amanda!" the children shouted and ran to meet her, tinpails clanging and dust flying. 

Martin, too, wore old clothes that would be none the worse for meetingwith briars or crushed berries. A wide straw hat perched on his headmade Amanda think, "He looks like a grown-up edition of Whittier'sBarefoot Boy. "

"Here we are, all ready, " said the leader, as they started off to thecrude rail fence. Martin would have helped Amanda over the fence, butshe ran from him, put up one foot, and was over it in a trice. 

"Still a nimble-toes, " he said, laughing. "Mary, can you do as well?"

"Pooh, yes! Who can't climb a fence?" The little girl was over it in aminute. The smaller children lay flat on the ground and squirmedthrough under the lower rail, while one of the boys climbed up, balanced himself on the top rail, then leaped into the grass. 

"I see some berries!" cried Katie, and began to pick them. 

"We'll go in farther, " said Martin. "The bushes near the road have beenalmost stripped. Come on, keep on the path and watch out for snakes. "

There was a well-defined, narrow trail through the timbered land. Though the weeds had been trodden down along each side of it there weredense portions where snakes might have found an ideal home. After along walk the little party was in the heart of the woods and blackberrybushes, dark with clusters, waited for their hands. Berries soonrattled in the tin pails, though at first many a handful was eaten andlips were stained red by the sweet juice. They wandered from bush tobush, picking busily, with many exclamations--"Oh, look what a bigbunch!" "My pail's almost full!" Little Katie and Charlie soon grewtired of the picking and wandered around the path in search oftreasures. They found them--three pretty blue feathers, dropped, nodoubt, by some screaming blue jay, a handful of green acorns in theirlittle cups, a few pebbles that appealed to them, one lone, belatedanemone, blooming months after its season. 

The pails were almost filled and the party was moving up the woods toanother patch of berries when little Mary turned to Amanda and said, "Ach, Amanda, tell us that story about the Bear Charm Song. "

"Yes, do!" seconded Charlie. "The one you told us once in school lastwinter. "

Amanda smiled, and as the little party walked along close togetherthrough the woods, she began:

"Once the Indians lived where we are living now---"

"Oh, did they?" interrupted Charlie. "Real Indians, with bows andarrows and all?"

"Yes, real Indians, bows and arrows and all! They owned all the landbefore the white man came and drove them off. But now the Indians arefar away from here and they are different from the ones we read aboutin the history books. The Indians now are more like the poor birdspeople put in cages---" Her eyes gleamed and her face grew eloquentwith expression as she thought of the gross injustice meted out to someof the red men in this land of the free. 

"Go on, Manda, go on with the story, " cried the children. Only Martinhad seen the look in her eyes, that mother-look of compassion. 

"Very well, I'll go on. "

"And, Charlie, " said Mary, "you keep quiet now and don't break in whenManda talks. "

"Well, " the story-teller resumed, "the Indians who lived out in thewoods, far from towns or cities, had to find all their own food. Theycaught fish, shot animals and birds, planted corn and gathered berries. Some of them they ate at once, but many of them they dried and storedaway for winter use. While the older Indians did harder work, thelittle Indian children ran off to the woods and gathered the berries. But one thing they had to look out for--bears! Great big bears lived inthe woods and they are very fond of sweet things. The bears would amblealong, peel great handfuls of ripe berries from the bushes with theirbig clawed paws and eat them. So all good Indian mothers taught theirchildren a Bear Charm Song to sing as they gathered berries. Wheneverthe bears heard the Bear Charm Song they went to some other part of thewoods and left the children to pick their berries unharmed. But oncethere was a little Indian boy who wouldn't mind his mother. He went tothe woods one day to gather berries, but he wouldn't sing the BearCharm Song, not he! So he picked berries and picked berries, and all ofa sudden a great big bear stood by him. Then the little Indian boy, whowouldn't mind his mother, began to sing the Bear Charm Song. But it wastoo late. The great big bear put his big paws around the little boy andsqueezed him, squeezed him, tighter and tighter and tighter--till thelittle boy who wouldn't mind his mother was changed into a tiny blackbat. Then he flew back to his mother, but she didn't know him, and soshe chased him and said, 'Go away! Little black bird of the night, goaway!' And that is where the bats first came from. "

"Ain't that a good story?" said Charlie as Amanda ended. "Tell usanother. "

"Not now. Perhaps after a while, " she promised. "Here's another patchof berries. Shall we pick here?"

"Yes, fill the pails, " said Martin, "then we'll be ready for the nextnumber on the program. It seems Amanda's the committee of one toentertain us. "

But the next number on the program was furnished by an unexpectedparticipant. The berrying party was busy picking when a crash was heardas if some heavy body were running wild through the leaves and sticksof the woods near by. 

"Oh, " cried Charlie, "I bet that's a bear! Manda, sing a Bear CharmSong!"

"Oh, " echoed Katie in alarm, and ran to the side of Amanda, whileMartin lifted his head and stood, alert, looking into the woods in thedirection of the noise. The crashing drew nearer, and then the figureof a man came running wildly through the bushes, waving his handsfrantically in the air, then pressing them to his face. 

"It's Lyman Mertzheimer!" Amanda exclaimed. 

"With hornets after him, " added Martin. 

The children, reassured, ran to the newcomer. 

It was Lyman Mertzheimer, his face distorted and swollen, his necktiestreaming from one shoulder, where he had torn it in a mad effort tobeat off the angry hornets whose nest he had disturbed out of sheer joyin the destruction and an audacious idea that no insect could scare himaway or worst him in a fight. He had underestimated the fiery temper ofthe hornets and their concentrated and persistent methods of defendingtheir home. After he had run wildly through the woods for fifteenminutes and struck out repeatedly the insects left him, just as hereached the berrying party. But the hornets had wreaked their angerupon him; face, hands and neck bore evidence of the battle they hadwaged. 

"First time hornets got me!" he said crossly as he neared the littleparty. "Oh, you needn't laugh!" he cried in angry tones as Charliesnickered. 

"But you look funny--all blotchy. "

The stung man allowed his anger to burst out in oaths. "Guess you thinkit's funny, too, " he said to Amanda. 

"No. I'm sure it hurts, " she said, though she knew he deserved no pityfrom her. 

"We all know that it hurts, " said Martin. But there was scant sympathyin his voice. 

"Smear mud on, " suggested Mary. "Once I got stung by a bumblebee whenhe went in a hollyhock and I held the flower shut so he couldn't getout, and he stung me through the flower. Mom put mud on and it helped. "

"Mud!" stormed Lyman, stepping about in the bush and twisting his headin pain. "There isn't any mud in Lancaster County now. The whole placeis dry as punk!"

"If you had some of the mud you slung at me recently it would come inhandy now, " Martin could not refrain from saying. 

Another oath greeted his words. Then the stung young man started offdown the road to find relief from his smarts, ignoring the fling. 

"Well, " said Amanda, "well, of all things! For him to tackle a hornets'nest! Just for the fun of it!"

"But he got his come-uppance for once! Got it from the hornets, " saidMartin. "Serves him right. "

"But that hurts, " said Mary sympathetically. "Hornets hurt awful bad!"

"Yes, " said Martin as they turned homeward. "But he's getting paid forall the mean tricks he's played on other people. "

"Mebbe God made the hornets sting him if he's a bad man, " said Charlie. 

"We all get what we give out, " agreed Martin. "Lyman Mertzheimer willfeel those hornet stings for a few days. While I've always been taughtnot to rejoice at the misfortunes of others I'm not sorry I saw him. I'll call our account square now. You pitied him, didn't you?" he askedAmanda suddenly. "I saw it in your eyes. So did Mary and Katie. "

"Of course I pitied him, " she confessed. "I'd feel sorry for anythingor anybody who suffers. I know it serves him right, that he's earnedworse than that, and yet I would have relieved him if I could have doneso. Nature meant that we should be decent, I suppose. "

The man was thoughtful for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so. It is awoman's nature. "

"Would you have us different?"

"No--no--we wouldn't have you different. Many of the best men would bemere brutes if women's pity and tenderness and forgiveness were takenout of their lives--we wouldn't have you different. "

CHAPTER XXII

ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP

The following Sunday at noon Martin passed the Reist farmhouse as hedrove his mother and several of the children to Mennonite church atLandisville. After the service he passed that way again and noticedseveral cars stopping at Reists'. Evidently they were entertaining anumber of visitors for Sunday dinner after the service, as is thecustom in rural Lancaster County. The big porch was filled with peoplewho rocked or leaned idly against the pillars, while in the big kitchenMillie, Amanda and Mrs. Reist worked near the hot stove and prepared anappetizing dinner for them. 

Amanda did not shirk her portion of the necessary work, but rebellionwas in her heart as she noted her mother's flushed, tired face. 

"Mother, if you'd only feel that Millie and I could get the dinnerwithout you! It's a shame to have you in this kitchen on a day likethis!"

"Ach, I'm not so hot. I'm not better than you or Millie, " the motherinsisted, and stuck to her post, while Amanda murmured, "This Sundayvisiting--how I hate it! We've outgrown the need of it now, especiallywith automobiles. "

But at length the meal was placed upon the table, the guests gatheredfrom porches and lawn and an hour later the dishes were washed andeverything at peace once more in the kitchen. Then Amanda walked out tothe garden at the rear of the house. 

"Ooh, " she sighed in relief, "I'm glad that's over! Visiting on such aday should be made a misdemeanor!" She pulled idly on a zinnia thatlifted its globular red head in the hot August sun. 

"Hey, Sis, " came Phil's voice to her, "he wants you on the 'phone!"

"Who's he?" she asked as the boy ran out to her in the garden. 

They turned to the house, talking as they went. 

"Well, Sis, you know who _he_ is! He's coming round here all thetime lately. "

A gentle shove from the girl rewarded the boy for his teasing, but hewas not easily daunted. "Don't you remember, " he said, "how that oldMrs. Haldeman who kept tine candy store near the market house inLancaster used to call her husband _he_? She never called himMister or Mr. Haldeman, just _he_, and you could feel she wouldhave written it in italics if she could. "

"Well, that was all right, there was only one _he_ in the world sofar as she was concerned. But do you remember, Phil, the time Mothertook us in her store to buy candy and we talked to her canary and theold woman said, 'Ach, yes, I think still how good birds got it! I oftenwish I was a canary, but then he would have to be one too!' Wedisgraced Mother by giggling fit to kill ourselves. But the old womanjust smiled at us and gave us each a pink and white striped peppermintstick. Now run along, Phil, don't be eavesdropping, " she said as theyreached the hall and she sat down to answer the telephone. 

"That you, Amanda?" came over the wire. 

"Yes. "

"Got a houseful of company? It seemed like that when we drove past. Overflow meeting on the porch!"

"Oh, yes, as usual. "

"What I wanted to know is--are there any young people among thevisitors, that makes it a matter of courtesy for you to stay at homeall afternoon?"

"No, they are all older people to-day, and a few little children. "

"Good! Then how would you like to have a little picnic, just we two? Iwant to get away from Victrola music and children's questions and fourwalls, and I thought you might have a similar longing. "

"Mental telepathy, Martin! That's just what I was thinking as I was outin the garden. "

"Then I'll call for you and we'll go up past the sandpit to thathilltop where the breeze blows even on a day like this. "

When Martin came for her she was ready, a lunch tucked under one arm, two old pillows in the other. She had given the red hair a few pats, added several hairpins, slipped off her white dress and buttoned up apale green chambray one with cool white collar and cuffs. She stoodready, attractive, as Martin entered the lawn. 

"Say!" he whistled. "You did that in short order! I thought it tookgirls hours to dress. "

"Then you're like Solomon; you can't understand the ways of women!" Shelaughed as she handed him the lunch-box. 

Her calm efficiency puzzled him. Lately he was discovering so manyundreamed of qualities in this lively friend of his childhood. He wasbeginning to feel some of the wonder those people must have felt whosechildren played with pebbles that were one day discovered to bepriceless uncut diamonds. Until that day she had found him prostrate inher moccasin woods he had thought of her as just Amanda Reist, a nice, jolly girl with a quick temper if you tried her too hard and a quicktongue to express it, but a good comrade and a pleasant companion ifyou treated her fairly. 

Then his attitude had undergone a change. After that day of his greatunhappiness he thought of her as a woman, staunch, courageous, yetgentle and feminine, one who had faith in her old friend, who couldcomfort a man when he was downcast and help him raise his head again. Awonderful woman she was! One who loved pretty clothes and things modernand yet appreciated the charm of the old-fashioned, and seemed todovetail perfectly into the plain grooves of her people and his withtheir quaint old dress and houses and manners. A woman, too, who had anintense love for the great outdoors. Not the shallow, pretentious lovethat would call forth gushing rhapsodies about moonlight or sunsets orthe spectacular alone in nature, but a sincere, deep-rooted love thatshone in her eyes as she stooped to see more plainly the tracery ofveins in a fallen leaf and moved her to gentle speech to the birds, butterflies and woodland creatures as though they could understand andanswer. 

As they walked down the country road he looked at her. He had a way ofnoticing women's clothes and had become an observant judge of theirbecomingness. In her growing-up days Amanda had been frequently angeredby his frank, unsolicited remarks about the colors she wore--this bluewas off color for her red hair, or that golden brown was just thething. Later she grew accustomed to his remarks and rather expectedthem. They still disconcerted her at times, but she had long ago ceasedto grow angry about them. 

"That green's the color for you to-day, " he said, as they went along. "Do you know, I've often thought I'd like to see you in a black gownand a string of real jade beads around your neck. "

"Jade! Was there ever a red head who didn't wish she had a string ofjade beads?"

"You'd be great!"

"So would the price, " she told him, laughing. "A string of real jadewould cost as much as a complete outfit of clothes I wear. "

"Then you should have black hair and cheap coral ones would do. "

"Why, Martin, " she said in surprise, "you _are_ studying colorcombinations, aren't you?"

"Oh, not exactly; I'm not interested in all colors. But say, thatreminds me--I saw a girl in Lancaster last winter who had hair likeyours and about the same coloring. She wore a brown suit and brown hatand furs--it was great. "

"I'd like to have that. " Daughter of Eve! She liked it because he did!"But don't speak about furs on a day like this! It's hot--too hot, Martin, for a houseful of company, don't you think so?"

"It is hot to stand and cook for extra people. "

"Well, perhaps it's wicked, but I hate this Sunday visiting the peopleof Lancaster County indulge in! I never did like it!"

"I'm not keen about it myself. Sunday seems to me to be a day to go tochurch and rest and enjoy your family, sometimes to go off to the woodslike this. But a houseful of buzzing visitors swarming through it--whew!it does spoil the Sabbath. "

"I never did like to visit, " confessed the girl. "Not unless I went topeople I really cared for. When we were little and Mother would takePhil and me to visit relatives or friends I merely liked I'd be there alittle while and then I'd tug at Mother's skirt and beg, 'Mom, we wantto go home. ' I suppose I spoiled many a visit for her. I wasself-willed even then. "

"You are a stubborn person, " he said, with so different a meaning thatAmanda flushed. 

"I know I am. And I have a nasty temper, too. "

"Don't you know, " he consoled her, "that a temper controlled makes astrong personality? George Washington had one, the history books say, but he made it serve him. "

"And that's no easy achievement. " The girl spoke from her ownexperience. "It's like pulling molars to press your lips together andbe quiet when you want to rear and tear and stamp your feet. "

"Well, come down to hard facts, and how many of us will have to admitthat we have feelings like that at times? There is still a good shareof the primitive man left in our natures. We're not saints. Why, eventhe churches that believe in saints don't canonize mortals until theyhave been a hundred years dead--they want to be sure they are dead andtheir mortal weaknesses forgotten. "

Amanda laughed. A moment later they turned from the country road andfollowed a narrower path that was bordered on one side by green fieldsand on the other by a strip of woods, an irregular arm reaching outfrom Amanda's moccasin haunt. The road led up-hill at a sharp angle, sothat when the traveler reached the top, panting and tired, therestretched before him in delightful panorama a view of Lancaster Countythat more than compensated for the discomfort and effort of the climb. 

Amanda and Martin stood facing that sight. Behind them lay the cool, tree-clad hill, before them the blue August sky looked down onLancaster County farms, whose houses and red barns seemed dropped likekindergarten toys into the midst of undulating green fields. One couldsit or stand under the sheltering shade of the trees along the edge ofthe woods and yet look up to the sky or out upon the Garden Spot andfarther off, to the blue, hazy mountain ridge that touched the sky-lineand cut off the view of what lay beyond. 

Martin threw the pillows on the ground and they sat down in the coolshade. 

"Can anything beat this?" he asked lazily as he ruffled the dryleaves about him with his hands. "You know, Amanda, I could neverunderstand why, with my love for outdoors, I can't be a farmer. When Iwas a boy I used to consider it the natural thing for me to do as myfather did. I did help him, but I never liked the work. You couldn'tcoax the other boys to the city; they'd rather pitch hay or plant corn. And yet I like nothing better than to be out in the open. During thesummer I'm out in the garden after I come home from the city, and thatmuch of working the soil I like, but for a steady job--not for me!"

"It's best to do work one likes, " said the girl. "Not every person wholikes outdoors was meant to be a farmer. Be glad you like to be out inthe open. But I can't conceive of any person not liking it. I could sitand look at the sky for one whole day. It's so encouraging. Sometimeswhen I walk home from school after a hard day and I look down on theroad and think over the problems of handling certain trying children soas to get the best out of them and the latent best in them developed, Ilook up all of a sudden and the sky is so wonderful that, somehow, mytroubles seem trivial. It's just as though the sky were saying, 'Child, you've been looking down so long and worrying about little things thatyou've forgotten that the sky is blue and the clouds are still sailingover you. ' And, Martin, don't you like the stars? I never get tired oflooking at them. I never care to gaze at the full moon unless there areclouds sailing over her. She's too big and brazen, too compelling. Butthe twinkle of the stars and the sudden flashing out of dim ones youdidn't see at first always makes me feel like singing. Ever feel thatway?"

"Yes, but I couldn't put it all into words like that. "

"Ah, " he thought, "she has the mind of a poet, the heart of a child, the soul of a woman. "

"I read somewhere, " she went on, as though certain of his understandingand sharing her mood, "that the Pagans said man was made to standupright so that he might raise his face to heaven and his eyes to thestars. Somehow, it seems those old Pagans had a finer conception ofmany vital truths than some of us have in this age. "

"That's true. We have them beaten in many ways, but when we come acrossa thing like that we stop to think and wonder where they got it. Ialways did like mythology. Pandora and her box, Clytie and her emblemof constancy, and Ulysses--what schoolboy escaped the thrills ofUlysses? I bet you pitied Orpheus!"

"I did! But aren't we serious for a picnic? Next thing we know one ofus will be saying thirdly, fourthly, or amen!"

"I don't know--it suits me. You're so sensible, Amanda, it's a pleasureto talk with you. Most girls are so frothy. "

"No disparaging remarks about our sex, " she said lightly, "or I'llretaliate. "

"Go on, " he challenged, "I dare you to! What's the worst fault in mereman?"

She raised her hand in protest. "I wash my hands of that! But I willsay that if most girls are frothy, as you say, it's because most menseem to like them that way. Confess now, how many shallow, frothy girlsgrow into old maids? It's generally the butterfly that occasions themerry chase, straw hats out to catch it. You seldom see a straw hatafter a bee. "

"Oh, Amanda, that's not fair, not like you!" But he thought ruefully ofIsabel and her butterfly attractions. "I admit we follow thebutterflies but sometimes we wake up and see our folly. True, men don'tchase honeybees, but they have a wholesome respect for them and buildhouses for them. After all, the real men generally appreciate the realwomen. Sometimes the appreciation comes too late for happiness, but itseldom fails to come. No matter how appearances belie it, it's a fact, nevertheless, that in this crazy world of to-day the sincere, real girlis still appreciated. The frilly Gladys, Gwendolyns and What-nots stillhave to yield first place to the old-fashioned Rebeccas, Marys andAmandas. "

Her heart thumped at the words. She became flustered and said the firstthing that came into her head to say, "I like that, calling me old-fashioned! But we won't quarrel about it. Let's eat our lunch; thatwill keep us from too much talking for a while. "

Martin handed her the box. He was silent as she opened it. She notedhis preoccupation, his gray eyes looking off to the distant fields. 

"Come back to earth!" she ordered. "What are you dreaming about?"

"I was just thinking that you _are_ old-fashioned. I'm glad youare. "

"Well, I'm not!" she retorted. "Come on, eat. I just threw in somerolls and cold chicken and pickles and a few peaches. "

The man turned and gave his attention to the lunch and ate with evidentenjoyment, but several times Amanda felt his keen eyes scrutinizing herface. "What ails him?" she thought. 

"This is great, this is just the thing!" he told her several timesduring the time of lunch. "Let's do this often, come up here where theair is pure. "

"All right, " she agreed readily. "It will do you good to get up in thehills. I don't see how you stand being housed in a city in the summer!It must be like those awful days in the early spring or in the fallwhen I'm in the schoolroom and rebel because I want to be outdoors. Irebel every minute when the weather is nice, do it subconsciously whileI'm teaching the states and capitals or hearing tables or giving outspelling words. Something just keeps saying inside of me, 'I want to beout, want to be out, be out, be out!' It's a wonder I don't say it outloud sometimes. "

"If you did you'd hear a mighty echo, I bet! Every kid in the roomwould say it after you. "

"Yes, I'm sure of that. I feel like a slave driver when I make themstudy on days that were made for the open. But it's the only way, Isuppose. We have to learn to knuckle very early. "

"Yes, but it's a great old world, just the same, don't you think so?"

"It's the only one I ever tried, so I'm satisfied to stay on it a whilelonger, " she told him. 

They laughed at that as only Youth can laugh at remarks that are notclever, only interesting to each other because of the personality ofthe speaker. 

So the afternoon passed and the two descended again to the dustycountry road, each feeling refreshed and stimulated by the hours spenttogether. 

CHAPTER XXIII

TESTS

That September Amanda began her third year of teaching at Crow Hill. 

"I declare, " Millie said, "how quick the time goes! Here's your thirdyear o' teachin' started a'ready. A body gets old fast. "

"Yes, I'll soon be an old maid school teacher. "

"Now, mebbe not!" The hired girl had lost none of her frankness. "Inotice that Mart Landis sneaks round here a good bit this while past. "

"Ach, Millie, he's not here often. "

"No, o' course not! He just stops in in the afternoon about every otherday with a book or something of excuse like that, and about every otherday in the morning he's likely to happen to drop in to get the bookback, and then in between that he comes and you go out for a walk afterflowers or birds or something, and then between times there he comeswith something his mom told him to ask or bring or something like that--no, o' course not, he don't come often! Not at all! I guess he's justneighborly, ain't, Amanda?" Millie chuckled at her own wit and Amandacould not long keep a frown upon her face. 

"Of course, Millie, " she said with an assumed air of indifference, "theLandis people have always been neighborly. Pennsylvania Dutch are greatfor that. "

It was not from Millie alone that Amanda had to take teasing. Philip, always ready for amusement, was at times almost insufferable in theopinion of his sister. 

"What's the matter with Mart Landis's home?" the boy asked innocentlyone day at the supper table. 

"Why?" asked Uncle Amos. "I'll bite. "

"Well, he seems to be out of it a great deal; he spends half of histime in our house. I think, Uncle Amos, as head of the house here, youshould ask him what his intentions are. "

"Phil!" Amanda's protest was vehement. "You make me as tired as someother people round here do. As soon as a man walks down the road with agirl the whole matter is settled--they'll surely marry soon! It wouldbe nice if people would attend to their own affairs. "

"Makes me tired too, " said Philip fervently. "Last week I met thatSarah from up the road and naturally walked to the car with her. Youall know what a fright she is--cross-eyed, pigeon-toed, and asbrilliant mentally as a dark night in the forest. When I got into thecar I heard some one say, 'Did you see Philip Reist with that girl? Iwonder if he keeps company with her. ' Imagine!"

"Serves you right, " Amanda told him with impish delight. "I hope everycross-eyed, pigeon-toed girl in the county meets you and walks withyou!"

"Feel better now, Sis?" His grin brought laughter to the crowd andAmanda's peeved feeling was soon gone. 

It was true, Martin Landis spent many hours at the Reist farmhouse. Heseemed filled with an insatiable desire for the companionship ofAmanda. Scarcely a day passed without some glimpse of him at the Reisthome. 

Just what that companionship meant to the young man he did not stop toanalyze at first. He knew he was happy with Amanda, enjoyed herconversation, felt a bond between them in their love for the vastoutdoors, but he never went beyond that. Until one day in earlyNovember when he was walking down the lonely road after a pleasantevening with Amanda. He paused once to look up at the stars, remembering what the girl had said concerning them, how they comfortedand inspired her. A sudden rush of feeling came to him as he leaned onthe rail fence and looked up. . . . "Look here, " he told himself, "it'stime you take account of yourself. What's all this friendship with yourold companion leading to? Do you love Amanda?" The "stars in theircourses" seemed to twinkle her name, every leafless tree along the roadshe loved seemed to murmur it to him--Amanda! It was suddenly thesweetest name in the whole world to him!

"Oh, I know it now!" he said softly to himself under the quiet sky. "Ilove her! What a woman she is! What a heart she has, what a heart! Iwant her for my wife; she's the only one I want to have with me 'Tilldeath us do part'--that's a fair test. Why, I've been wondering why Ienjoyed each minute with her and just longed to get to see her as oftenas possible--fool, not to recognize love when it came to me! But I knowit now! I'm as sure of it as I am sure those stars, her stars, areshining up there in the sky. "

As he stood a moment silently looking into the starry heavens someportion of an old story came to him. "My love is as fair as the starsand well-nigh as remote and inaccessible. " Could he win the love of agirl like Amanda Reist? She gave him her friendship freely, would shegive her love also? A woman like Amanda could never be satisfied withhalf-gods, she would love as she did everything else--intensely, entirely! He remembered reading that propinquity often led people intomistakes, that constant companionship was liable to awaken a feelingthat might masquerade as love. Well, he'd be fair to her, he'd letseparation prove his love. 

"That's just what I'll do, " he decided. "Next week I'm to go on myvacation and I'll be gone two weeks. I'll not write to her and ofcourse I won't see her. Perhaps 'Absence will make the heart growfonder' with her. I hope so! It will be a long two weeks for me, butwhen I come back--" He flung out his arms to the night as though theycould bring to him at once the form of the one he loved. 

So it happened that after a very commonplace goodbye given to Amanda inthe presence of the entire Reist household Martin Landis left LancasterCounty a few weeks before Thanksgiving and journeyed to South Carolinato spend a quiet vacation at a mountain resort. 

To Amanda Reist, pegging away in the schoolroom during the grayNovember days, his absence caused depression. He had said nothing aboutletters but she naturally expected them, friendly little notes to tellher what he was doing and how he was enjoying the glories of the famousmountains of the south. But no letters came from Martin. 

"Oh, " she bit her lip after a week had gone and he was still silent. "Iwon't care! He writes home; the children tell me he says the scenery isso wonderful where he is--why can't he send me just one little note?But I'm not going to care. I've been a fool long enough. I should knowby this time that it's a case of 'Out of sight, out of mind. ' I'm aboutdone with castles in Spain! All my sentimental dreams about my knight, all my rosy visions are, after all, of that substance of which alldreams are made. I suppose if I had been practical and sensible likeother girls I could have made myself like Lyman Mertzheimer or someother ordinary country boy and settled down into a contented woman on afarm. Why couldn't I long ago have put away my girlish illusions aboutknights and castles in Spain? I wonder if, after all, gold eagles arebetter and more to be desired than the golden roofs of our dreamcastles? If an automobile like Lyman Mertzheimer drives is not to bepreferred to Sir Galahad's pure white steed! I've clung to myromanticism and what has it brought me? It might have been wiser to letgo my dreams, sweep the illusions from my eyes and settle down to asordid, everyday existence as the wife of some man, like LymanMertzheimer, who has no eye for the beauties of nature but who has twoeyes for me. "

Poor Amanda, destruction of her dream castles was perilously imminent!The golden turrets were tottering and the substance of which her dreamswere made was becoming less ethereal. If Lyman Mertzheimer came to herthen and renewed his suit would she give him a more encouraging answerthan those she had given in former times? Amanda's hour of weakness anddespair was upon her. It was a propitious moment for the awakening ofthe forces of her lower nature which lay quiescent in her, as it dwellsin us all--very few escape the Jekyll-Hyde combination. 

When Martin Landis returned to Lancaster County he had a vagrant ideaof what the South Carolina mountains are like. He would have told youthat the trees there all murmur the name of Amanda, that the birds singher name, the waterfalls cry it aloud! During his two weeks of absencefrom her his conviction was affirmed--he knew without a shadow of doubtthat he loved her madly. All of Mrs. Browning's tests he had applied--

 "Unless you can muse in a crowd all day, On the absent face that fixed you; Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbehoving; Unless you can die when the dream is past-- Oh, never call it loving!"

Amanda was enthroned in his heart, he knew it at last! How blind he hadbeen! He knew now what his mother had meant one day when she told him, "Some of you men are blinder'n bats! Bats do see at night!"

As he rode from Lancaster on the little crowded trolley his thoughtswere all of Amanda--would she give him the answer he desired? Could hewaken in her heart something stronger than the old feeling offriendship, which was not now enough?

He stepped from the car--now he would be with her soon. He meant tostop in at the Reist farmhouse and ask her the great question. He couldwait no longer. 

"Hello, Landis, " a voice greeted him as he alighted from the car. Heturned and faced Lyman Mertzheimer, a smiling, visibly happy Lyman. 

"Oh, hello, " Martin said, not cordially, for he had no love for thetrouble-maker. "I see you're in Lancaster County for your vacationagain. "

"Yes, home from college for Thanksgiving. I hear you've been away forseveral weeks. "

The college boy fell into step beside Martin, who would have turned andgone in another direction if he had not been so eager to see Amanda. 

"Yes, Landis, " continued the unwelcome companion. "I'm home forThanksgiving. It'll be a great day for me this year. By the way, I sawAmanda Reist a number of times since I'm here. Perhaps you'll beinterested to know that Amanda's promised to marry me--congratulateme!"

"To marry you! Amanda?" Martin's face blanched and his heart seemedturned to lead. 

"Why not?" The other laughed softly. "I'm not as black as I'm painted, you know. "

"I--I hope not, " Martin managed to say, his body suddenly seeming to berooted in the ground. His feet dragged as he walked along. Amanda tomarry Lvman Mertzheimer! What a crazy world it was all of a sudden. What a slow, poky idiot he had been not to try for the prize before itwas snatched from him!

Lyman, rejoicing over the misery so plainly written in the face ofMartin, walked boldly down the middle of the road, while Martin's feetlagged so he could not keep pace with the man who had imparted thebewildering news. Martin kept along the side of the road, scuffingalong in the grass, thinking bitter thoughts about the arrogant youthwho walked in the middle of the road. The honk, honk of a speedingautomobile fell heedlessly upon the ears of both, till Martin lookedback in sudden alarm. His startled eyes saw a car tearing down the roadlike a huge demon on wheels, its driver evidently trusting to thecommon sense of the man in the way to get out of the path of danger intime. But Lyman walked on in serene preoccupation, gloating over theunlucky, unhappy man who was following. With a cry of warning Martinrushed to the side of the other man and pushed him from the path of thecar, but when the big machine came to a standstill Martin Landis lay inthe dusty road, his eyes closed, a thin red stream of blood tricklingdown his face. 

The driver was concerned. "He's knocked out, " he said as he bent overthe still form. "I'm a doctor and I'll take him home and fix him up. He's a plucky chap, all right! He kept you from cashing in, probably. Say, young fellow, are you deaf? I honked loud enough to be heard amile. Only for him you'd be in the dust there and you'd have caught itfull. The car just grazed him. It's merely a scalp wound, " he said inrelief as he examined the prostrate figure. "Know where he lives?"

"Yes, just a little distance beyond the schoolhouse down this road. "

"Good. I'll take him home. I can't say how sorry I am it happened. Giveme a lift, will you? You sit in the back seat and hold him while Idrive. "

Lyman did not relish the task assigned to him but the doctor's tonesadmitted of no refusal. Martin Landis was taken to his home and in hissemiconscious condition he did not know that his head with itshandkerchief binding leaned against the rascally breast of LymanMertzheimer. 

CHAPTER XXIV

"YOU SAVED THE WRONG ONE"

The news of the accident soon reached the Reist farmhouse. Amandatelephoned her sympathy to Mrs. Landis and asked if there was anythingshe could do. 

"Oh, Amanda, " came the reply, "I do wish you'd come over! You're such acomforting person to have around. Did you hear that it was LymanMertzheimer helped to bring him home? Lyman said he and Martin werewalkin' along the road and were so busy talkin' that neither heard thecar and it knocked Martin down. It beats me what them two could have totalk about so much in earnest that they wouldn't hear the automobile. But perhaps Lyman wanted to make up with Martin for all the mean trickshe done to him a'ready. Anyhow, we're glad it ain't worse. He's got acut on the head and is pretty much bruised. He'll be stiff for a whilebut there ain't no bones broke. "

"I'm so glad it isn't worse. "

"Yes, ain't, abody still has something to be thankful for? Then you'llcome on over, Amanda?"

"Yes, I'll be over. "

As the girl walked down the road she felt a strange mingling ofemotions. She couldn't refuse the plea of Mrs. Landis, but one thingwas certain--she wouldn't see Martin! He'd be up-stairs and she couldstay down. Perhaps she could help with the work in the kitchen--anything but see Martin!

Mrs. Landis was excited as she drew her visitor into the warm kitchen, but the excitement was mingled with wrath. "What d'you think, Amanda, "she exclaimed, "our Mart---"

"Yes, our Mart---" piped out one of the smaller children, but an olderone chided him, "Now you hush, and let Mom tell about it. "

"That Lyman Mertzheimer, " said Mrs. Landis indignantly, "abody can'ttrust at all! He let me believe that he and Martin was walkin' alongfriendly like and that's how Mart got hurt. But here after Lyman leftand the doctor had Mart all fixed up and was goin' he told me thatMartin was in the side of the road and wouldn't got hurt at all if hehadn't run to the middle to pull Lyman back. He saved that meanfellow's life and gets no thanks for it from him! After all Lyman'sdirty tricks this takes the cake!"

Amanda's eyes sparkled. "He--I think Martin's wonderful!" she said, herlips trembling. 

"Yes, " the mother agreed as she wiped her eyes with one corner of hergingham apron. "I'd rather my boy laid up in bed hurt like he is thanhave him like Lyman. "

"Oh, Mom, " little Emma came running into the room, "I looked in at Martand he's awake. Mebbe he wants somebody to talk to him like I did whenI had the measles. Dare I go set with him a little if I keep quiet?"

"Why, " said Mrs. Landis, "that would be a nice job for Amanda. You goup, " she addressed the girl, "and stay a little with him. He'llappreciate your comin' to see him. "

Amanda's heart galloped. Her whole being was a mass of contradictions. One second she longed to fly up the steps to where the plumed knight ofher girlish dreams lay, the next she wanted to flee down the countryroad away from him. 

She stood a moment, undecided, but Mrs. Landis had taken her compliancefor granted and was already busy with some of her work in the kitchen. At length Amanda turned to the stairs, followed by several eager, excited children. 

"Here, " called the mother, "Charlie, Emma, you just leave Amanda go upalone. It ain't good for Mart to have so much company at once. I'llleave you go up to-night. " They turned reluctantly and the girl startedup the stairs alone, some power seeming to urge her on against herwill. 

Martin Landis returned to consciousness through a shroud of envelopingshadows. What had happened? Why was a strange man winding bandagesround his head? He raised an arm--it felt heavy. Then his mother'svoice fell soothingly upon his ears, "You're all right, Martin. "

"Yes, you're all right, " repeated the doctor, "but that other fellowshould have the bumps you got. "

"That other fellow"--Martin thought hazily, then he remembered. Thewhole incident came back to him, etched upon his memory. How he hadstarted from the car, eager to get to Amanda, then Lyman had come withhis news of her engagement and the hope in his heart became stark. Where was her blue bunting with its eternal song? Ah, he had killed itwith his indifference and caution and foolish blindness! He knew hestumbled along the road, grief and misery playing upon his heartstrings. Then came the frantic honk of the car and Lyman in its path. Good enough for him, was the first thought of the Adam in Martin. Thenext second he had obeyed some powerful impulse and rushed to the helpof the heedless Lyman. Then blackness and oblivion had come upon him. Blessed oblivion, he thought, as the details of the occurrence returnedto him. He groaned. 

"Hurt you?" asked the doctor kindly. 

"No. I'm all right. " He smiled between his bandages. "I think I canrest comfortably now, thank you. "

He was grateful they left him alone then, he wanted to think. Countlessthoughts were racing through his tortured brain. How could Amanda marryLyman Mertzheimer? Did she love him? Would he make her happy? Why hadhe, Martin, been so blind? What did life hold for him if Amanda wentout of it? The thoughts were maddening and after a while a mercifulProvidence turned them away from him and he fell to dreaming tenderlyof the girl, the Amanda of his boyhood, the gay, laughing comrade ofhis walks in the woods. Tender, understanding Amanda of his hours ofunhappiness--Amanda--the vision of her danced before his eyes andlingered by his side--Amanda---

"Martin"--the voice of her broke in upon his dreaming! She stood in thedoorway and he wondered if that, too, was a part of his dream. 

"Martin, " she said again, a little timidly. Then she came into theroom, a familiar little figure in her brown suit and little brown hatpulled over her red hair. 

"Oh, hello, " he answered, "come in if you care to. "

"I _am_ in. " She laughed nervously, a strange way for her to belaughing, but the man did not take heed of it. Had she come to laugh athim for being a fool? he thought. 

"Sit down, " he invited coolly. She sat on the chair by his bed, hercoat buttoned and unbuttoned by her restless fingers as she stoleglances at the bandaged head of the man. 

"It's good of you to come, " he began. At that she turned and began tospeak rapidly. 

"Martin, I must tell you! You must let me tell you! I know what youdid, how you saved Lyman. I think it was wonderful of you, justwonderful!"

"Ach. " He turned his flushed face toward her then. "There's noticingwonderful about that. "

"I think there is, " she insisted, scarcely knowing what to say. Sheremembered his old aversion to being lionized. 

"Tell me why you did it, " she asked suddenly. She had to say something!

The man lay silent for a moment, then a rush of emotion, struggling forexpression, swayed him and he spoke, while his eyes were turnedresolutely from her. 

"I'll tell you, Amanda! I've been a fool not to recognize the fact longago that I love you. "

"Oh!" There was a quick cry from the girl. But the man went on, impelled by the pain of losing her. 

"I see now that I have always loved you, even while I was infatuated bythe other girl. You were still you, right there when I needed you, ready to give your comfort and help. I must have loved you in the dayswe ran barefooted down the hills and looked for flowers or birds. I'vebeen asleep, blind--call it what you will! Perhaps I could have taughtyou to love me if I had read my own heart in time. I took so much forgranted, that you'd always be right there for me--now I've found outthe truth too late. Lyman told me--I hope he'll make you happy. Perhapsyou better go now. I'm tired. "

[Illustration: "What did Lyman tell you? I must know"]

But the request fell on deaf ears. 

"Lyman told you--just what did he tell you?" she asked. 

"Oh, " the man groaned. "There's a limit to human endurance. I wishyou'd go, dear, and leave me alone for a while. "

"What did Lyman tell you?" she asked again. "I must know. "

"What's the use of threshing it over? It brings neither of ushappiness. Of course he told me about the engagement, that you aregoing to marry him. "

"Oh!" Another little cry, not of joy this time, of anger, rather. Therewas silence then for a space, while the man turned his face to the walland the girl tried to still the beating of her heart and controlherself sufficiently to be able to speak. 

"Then, Martin, " she whispered, "you saved Lyman for me, because youthought I loved him?"

He lifted a protesting hand as if pleading for silence. 

She went on haltingly, "Why, Martin, you saved the wrong one!"

He raised his head from the pillow then; a strangling sound came fromhis lips. 

The girl's face burned with blushes but her eyes looked fearlessly intohis as she said again, "You saved the wrong one. Why, Martin--Martin--if you wanted to save the man I love--you--you should have savedyourself!"

He read the truth in her eyes; his arms reached out for her then andher lips moved to his as steel to a magnet. 

When he spoke she marveled at the tenderness in his voice; she neverdreamed, even in her brightest romantic dreams, that a man's voicecould hold so much tenderness. "Amanda, I began to read my own heartthat day you found me in the woods and helped and comforted me. "

"Oh, Martin, " she pressed her lips upon his bandaged head, her eyeswere glowing with that "light that never was on land or sea"--"Oh, Martin, I've loved _you_ ever since that day you saved my life bythrowing me into the bean-patch and then kissed my burnt hand. "

"Not your hand this time, sweetheart, " he whispered, "your lips!"

"I'm glad, " Amanda said after they had told each other the old, oldstory, "I'm so glad I kept my castles in Spain. When you went away anddidn't write I almost wrecked them purposely. I thought they'd gotumbling into ashes but somehow I braced them up again. Now they'remore beautiful than ever. I pity the people who own no castles inSpain, who have no dreams that won't come true exactly as they dreamed. I'll hold on to my dreams even if I know they can never come trueexactly as I dream them. I wouldn't give up my castles in Spain. I'llhave them till I die. But, Martin, that automobile might have killedyou!"

"Nonsense. I'm just scratched a bit. I'll be out of this in no time. "

"That rascal of a Lyman--you thought I could marry him?"

"I couldn't believe it, yet he said so. Some liar, isn't he?"

"Yes, but not quite so black as you thought. He is going to marry agirl named Amanda, one from his college town, and they are going tolive in California. "

"Good riddance!"

"Yes. The engagement was announced last week while you were away. Heknew you had probably not heard of it and saw a chance to make youjealous. "

"I'd like to wring his neck, " said Martin, grinning. "But since itturned out like this for me I'll forgive him. I don't care how manyAmandas he marries if he leaves me mine. "

At that point little Charlie, tiptoeing to the open door of Martin'sroom, saw something which caused him to widen his eyes, clap a handover his mouth to smother an exclamation, and turn quickly down thestairs. 

"Jiminy pats, Mom!" he cried excitedly as he entered the kitchen, "ourMart's holdin' Amanda's hand and she's kissin' him on the face! I seenit and heard it! Jiminy pats!"

The small boy wondered what ailed his mother, why she was not properlyshocked. Why did she gather him into her arms and whisper somethingthat sounded exactly like, "Thank God!"

"It's all right, " she told him. "You mustn't tell; that's theirsecret. "

"Oh, is it all right? Then I won't tell. Mart says I can keep a secretgood. "

But Martin and Amanda decided to take the mother into the happy secret. "Look at my face, " the girl said. "I can't hide my happiness. We mightas well tell it. "

"Mother!" Martin's voice rang through the house. At the sound a happy, white-capped woman wiped her eyes again on the corner of her ginghamapron and mounted the stairs to give her blessing to her boy and thegirl who had crowned him with her woman's love. 

The announcement of the troth was received with gladness at the Reistfarmhouse. Mrs. Reist was happy in her daughter's joy and lived againin memory that hour when the same miracle had been wrought for her. 

"Say, " asked Philip, "I hope you two don't think you're springing asurprise? A person blind in one eye and not seeing out of the othercould see which way the wind was blowing. "

"Oh, Phil!" Amanda replied, but there was only love in her voice. 

"It must be nice to be so happy like you are, " said Millie. 

"Yes, it must be, " Uncle Amos nodded his head in affirmation. He lookedat the hired girl, who did not appear to notice him. "I just wish I wastwenty years younger, " he added. 

A week later Amanda and Martin were sitting in one of the big rooms ofthe Reist farmhouse. Through the open door came the sound of Millie andMrs. Reist in conversation, with an occasional deeper note in UncleAmos's slow, contented voice. 

"Do you know, " said Martin, "I was never much of a hand to rememberpoetry, but there's one verse I read at school that keeps coming to mesince I know you are going to marry me. That verse about

 'A perfect woman, nobly planned To warn, to comfort, and command. '"

"Oh, no, Martin! You put me on a pedestal, and that's a tottering bitof architecture. "

"Not on a pedestal, " he contradicted, "but right by my side, walkingtogether, that's the way we want to go. "

"That's the only way. It's the way my parents went and the way yoursare still going. " She rose and brought to him a little book. "ReadRiley's 'Song of the Road, '" she told him. 

He opened the book and read the musical verses:

 "'O I will walk with you, my lad, whichever way you fare, You'll have me, too, the side o' you, with heart as light as air. No care for where the road you take's a-leadin'--anywhere, -- It can but be a joyful ja'nt the whilst _you_ journey there. The road you take's the path o' love, an' that's the bridth o' two-- An' I will walk with you, my lad--O I will walk with you. '

"Why, " he exclaimed, "that's beautiful! Riley knew how to put intowords the things we all feel but can't express. Let's read the rest. "

Her voice blended with his and out in the adjoining room Millie heardand listened. Silently the hired girl walked to the open door. Shewatched the two heads bending over the little book. Her heart ached forthe happy childhood and the romance she had missed. The closing wordsof the poem came distinctly to her;

 "'Sure, I will walk with you, my lad, As love ordains me to, -- To Heaven's door, and through, my lad, O I will walk with you. '"

"Say, " she startled the lovers by her remark, "if that ain't theprettiest piece I ever heard!"

"Think so?" said Martin kindly. "I agree with you. "

"Yes, it sounds nice but the meanin' is what abody likes. "

The hired girl went back to her place in the other room. But Amandaturned to the man beside her and said, "Romance in the heart of Millie!Who would guess it?"

"There's romance everywhere, " Martin told her. "Millie's heart wouldn'tbe the fine big thing it is if she didn't keep a space there for loveand romance. "

CHAPTER XXV

THE HEART OF MILLIE

The Reist farmhouse, always a busy place, was soon rivaling theproverbial beehive. Mrs. Reist, to whom sentiment was ever a vital, holy thing, to be treasured and clung to throughout the years, had longago, in Amanda's childhood, begun the preparation for the time of thegirl's marriage. After the fashion of olden times the mother had begunthe filling of a Hope Chest for her girl. Just as she instilled intothe youthful mind the homely old-fashioned virtues of honesty, truthfulness and reverence for holy things which made Amanda, as shestood on the threshold of a new life, so richly dowered in spiritualand moral acquisitions, so had the mother laid away in the big woodenchest fine linens, useful and beautiful and symbolic of the worth ofthe bride whose home they were destined to enrich. 

But in addition to the precious contents of the Hope Chest many thingswere needed for the dowry of the daughter of a prosperous LancasterCounty family. So the evenings and Saturdays of that year became busyones for Amanda. Millie helped with much of the plainer sewing and Mrs. Reist's exquisite tiny stitches enhanced many of the garments. 

"Poor Aunt Rebecca, " Amanda said one day, "how we miss her now!"

"Yes, ain't?" agreed Millie. "For all her scoldin' she was a good helpstill. If she was livin' yet she'd fuss about all the sewin' you'redoin' to get married but she'd pitch right in and help do it. "

Philip offered to pull basting threads, but his generosity was notappreciated. "Go on, " Millie told him, "you'd be more bother thanyou're worth! Next you'd be pullin' out the sewin'!" He was frequentlychased from the room because of his inappropriate remarks concerningthe trousseau or his declaration that Amanda was spending all thefamily wealth by her reckless substitution of silk for muslin. 

"You keep quiet, " Millie often reproved him. "I guess Amanda dare havewhat she wants if your mom says so. If she wants them things she callscammysoles made out of silk let her have 'em. She's gettin' marriedonly once. "

"How do you know?" he asked teasingly. "Say, Millie, I thought acamisole is a dish you make rice pudding in. "

"Ach, that shows you don't know everything yet, even if you do go toLancaster to school!" And he was driven from the room in laughingdefeat. 

It is usually conceded that to the prospective bride belongs theprivilege of naming the day of her marriage, but it seemed to Amandathat Millie and Philip had as much to do with it as she. Each one had afavorite month. Phil's suggestion finally decided the month. "Sis, you're so keen about flowers, why don't you make it a spring wedding?About cherry blossom time would be the thing. "

"So it would. We could have it in the orchard. "

"On a nice rainy day in May, " he said. 

"Pessimist! It doesn't rain every day in May!"

There followed happy, excited times when the matter of a house wasdiscussed. Those were wonderful hours in which the two hunted a nestthat would be near enough to the city for Martin's daily commuting andyet have so much of the country about it as to boast of green grass andspace for flowers. It was found at length, a little new bungalowoutside the city limits in a residential section where gardens andtrees beautified the entire street. 

"Do you know, " Mrs. Reist said to Uncle Amos one day, "there's anotherlittle house for sale in that street. If it wasn't for breakin' up thehome for you and Millie I'd buy it and Philip and I could move inthere. It would be nice and handy for him. I'm gettin' tired of such abig house. There I could do the work myself. There'd be room for you tocome with us, but I wouldn't need Millie. I don't like to send her offto some other people. We had her so long a'ready, and she's a good, faithful worker. Ach, I guess I'll have to give up thinkin' about doin'anything like that. "

"Well, well, now let me think once. " Uncle Amos scratched his head. Then an inscrutable smile touched his lips. "Well, now, " he said aftera moment's meditation, "now I don't see why it can't be arranged someway. There's more'n one way sometimes to do things. I don't know--Idon't know--but I think I can see a way we could manage that--providin'--ach, we'll just wait once, mebbe it'll come out right. "

Mrs. Reist looked at her brother. What did he mean? He stammered andsmiled like a foolish schoolboy. Poor Amos, she thought, how hard hehad worked all his life and how little pleasure he had seemed to getout of his days! He was growing old, too, and would soon be unable todo the work on a big farm. 

But Uncle Amos seemed spry enough several days later when he and Millieentered the big market wagon to go to Lancaster with the farm products. They left the Reist farmhouse early in the morning, a cold, gray winterday. 

"Say, Millie, " he said soon after they began the drive, "I want to talkwith you. "

"Well, " she answered dryly, "what's to keep you from doin' so? Here Iam. Go on. "

"Ach, Millie, now don't get obstreperous! Manda's mom would like tosell the farm and move to Lancaster to a little house. Then shewouldn't need me nor you. "

"What? Are you sure, Amos?"

"Sure! She told me herself. That would leave us out a home. For I don'twant to live in no city and set down evenings and look at houses ortrolley cars. You can hire out to some other people, of course. "

"Oh, yea! Amos. What in the world--I don't want to live no place else. "

"Well, now, wait once, Millie. I got a plan all fixed up, something Iwished long a'ready I could do, only I hated to bust up the farm for mysister. Millie--ach, don't you know what I mean? Let's me and you getmarried!"

Millie drew her heavy blanket shawl closer around her and pulled herblack woolen cap farther over her forehead, then she turned and lookedat Amos, but his face was in shadow; the feeble oil lamp of the marketwagon sent scant light inside. 

"Now, Amos, you say that just because you take pity for me and want tofix a home for me, ain't?"

"Ach, yammer, no!" came the vehement reply. "I liked you long a'ready, Millie, and used to think still, 'There's a girl I'd like to marry!'"

"Why, Amos, " came the happy answer, "and I liked you, too, longa'ready! I used to think still to myself, 'I don't guess I'll ever getmarried but if I do I'd like a man like Amos. '"

Then Uncle Amos suddenly demonstrated his skill at driving one-handedand something more than the blanket-shawl was around Millie'sshoulders. 

"Ach, my, " she said after a while, "to think of it--me, a hired girl, to get a nice, good man like you for husband!"

"And me, a fat dopple of a farmer to get a girl like you! I'll be goodto you, Millie, honest! You just see once if I won't! You needn't workso hard no more. I'll buy the farm off my sister and we'll sell some ofthe land and stop this goin' to market. It's too hard work. We can takeit easier; we're both gettin' old, ain't, Millie?" He leaned over andkissed her again. 

"You know, " he said blissfully, "I used to think still this herekissin' business is all soft mush, but--why--I think it's all right. Don't you?"

"Ach, " she laughed as she pushed his face away gently. "They say stillthere ain't no fools like old ones. I guess we're some. "

"All right, we don't care, long as we like it. Here, " he spoke to thehorse, "giddap with you! Abody'd think you was restin' 'stead of goin'to market. We'll be late for sure this morning. " His mittened handsflapped the reins and the horse quickened his steps. 

"Ha, ha, " the man laughed, "I know what ails old Bill! The kissin'scared him. He never heard none before in this market wagon. No wonderhe stands still. Here's another for good measure. "

"Ach, Amos, I think that's often enough now! Anyhow for this morningonce. "

"Ha, ha, " he laughed. "Millie, you're all right! That's what you are!"

That evening at supper Philip asked suddenly, "What ails you two, UncleAmos, you and Millie? I see you grin every time you look at eachother. "

"Well, nothin' ails me except a bad case of love that's been stickin'in me this long while and now it's broke out. Millie's caught it too. "

"Well, I declare!" Amanda was quick to detect his meaning. "You twodarlings! I'm so glad!"

"Ach, " the hired girl said, blushing rosy, "don't go make so much fussabout it. Ain't we old enough to get married?"

"I'm glad, Millie, " Mrs. Reist told her. "Amos just needs a wife likeyou. He worried me long a'ready, goin' on all alone. Now I know he'llhave some one to look out for him. "

"Finis! You're done for!" Phil said. "Lay down your arms and surrender. But say, that makes it bully for Mother and me. We can move toLancaster now. May we run out to the farm and visit you, Millie?"

"Me? Don't ask me. It's Amos's. "

"Millie, you goose, " the man said happily, "when you marry meeverything I have will be yours, too. "

"Well, did I ever! I don't believe I'll know how to think about it thatway. This nice big house won't seem like part mine. "

"It'll be _ours_" Uncle Amos said, smiling at the word. 

And so it happened that the preparation of another wedding outfit wasbegun in the Reist farmhouse. 

"I don't need fancy things like Amanda, " declared the hired girl. "Iwear the old style o' clothes yet. And for top things, why, I made upmy mind I'm goin' to wear myself plain and be a Mennonite. "

"Plain, " said Mrs. Reist. "Won't Amos be glad! He likes you no matterwhat clothes you wear, but it's so much nicer when you can both go tothe same church. He'll be glad if you turn a Mennonite. "

"Well, I'm goin' to be one. So I won't want much for my weddin' inclothes, just some plain suits and bonnets and shawl. But I got nochest ready like Amanda has. I never thought I'd need a Hope Chest. When I was little I got knocked around, but as soon as I could earnmoney I saved a little all the time and now I got a pretty good bitlaid in the bank. I can take that and get me some things I need. "

Mrs. Reist laid her hands on the shoulders of the faithful hired girl. "Never mind, Millie, you'll have your chest! We'll go to Lancaster andbuy what you want. Amos got his share of our mother's things when wedivided them and he has a big chest on the garret all filled withhomespun linen and quilts and things that you can use. That will all beyours. "

"Mine? I can't hardly believe it. You couldn't be nicer to me if youwas my own mom. And I ain't forgettin' it neither! I said to Amos wewon't get married till after Amanda and when you and Phil are all fixedin your new house. Then we'll go to the preacher and get it done. Wedon't want no fuss, just so we get married, that's all we want. Itneedn't be done fancy. "

CHAPTER XXVI

"ONE HEART MADE O' TWO"

Amanda married Martin that May, when the cherry blossoms transformedthe orchard into a sea of white. 

To the rear of the farmhouse stood a plot of ground planted with cherrytrees. Low grass under the trees and little paths worn into it led likeaisles up and down. There, near the centre of the plot, Amanda andMartin chose the place for the ceremony. The march to and from thatspot would lead through a white-arched aisle sweet with the breath ofthousands of cherry blossoms. 

Amanda selected for her wedding a dress of white silk. "I do want awedding dress I can pack away in an old box on the attic and keep forfifty years and take out and look at when it's yellow and old, " shesaid, romance still burning in her heart. 

"Uh, " said practical Millie. "Why, there ain't no attic in that houseyou're goin' to! Them bungalows ain't the kind I like. I like a realhouse. "

"Well, there's no garret like ours, but there is a little raftered roomwith a slanting ceiling and little windows and I intend to put trunksand boxes in it and take my spinning-wheel that Granny gave me and putit there. "

"A spinning-wheel! What under the sun will you do with that?"

"Look at it, " was the strange reply, at which Millie shook her head andwent off to her work. 

"Are you going to carry flowers, and have a real wedding?" Philip askedhis sister the day before the wedding. 

"I don't need any, with the whole outdoors a mass of bloom. If the pinkmoccasins were blooming I'd carry some. "

"Pink--with your red hair!" The boy exercised his brotherly prerogativeof frankness. 

"Yes, pink! Whose wedding is this? I'd carry pink moccasins and wear myred hair if they--if the two curdled! But I'll have to find some otherwild flowers. "

He laughed. "Then I'll help you pick them. "

"Martin and I are going for them, thanks. "

"Oh, don't mention it! I wouldn't spoil that party!" He began whistlinghis old greeting whistle. He had forgotten it for several years butsome chord of memory flashed it back to him at that moment. 

At the sound of the old melody Amanda stepped closer to the boy. "Phil, " she said tenderly, "you make me awful mad sometimes but I likeyou a lot. I hope you'll be as happy as I am some day. "

"Ah, " he blinked, half ashamed of any outward show of emotion. "You'reall right, Sis. When I find a girl like you I'll do the wedding ringstunt, too. Now, since we've thrown bouquets at each other let's get towork. What may I do if I'm debarred from the flower hunt?"

"Go ask Millie. "

"Gee, Sis, have a heart! She's been love struck, too. Regular epidemicat Reists'!" But he went off to offer his services to the hired girl. 

As Amanda dressed in her white silk gown she wished she were beautiful. "Every girl ought to have beauty once in her life, " she thought. "Evenfor just one hour on her wedding day it would be a boon. But then, loveis supposed to be blind, so perhaps Martin will think I am beautifulto-day. "

She was not beautiful, but her eyes shone soft and her face wasexpressive of the joy in her heart as she stood ready for the ceremonywhich was the consummation of her love for the knight of her girlhood'sdreams. 

It would be impossible to find a more beautiful setting for a weddingthan the Reist cherry orchard that May day. There were rows of trees, with their fresh young green and their canopies of lacy bloom throughwhich the warm May sunshine trickled like gold. As Amanda and Martinstood before the waiting clergyman and in the presence of relatives, friends and neighbors, faint breezes stirred the branches and fugitivelittle petals loosened from the hearts of the blossoms and fell uponthe happy people gathered under the white glory of the orchard. 

Several robins with nests already built on broad crotches of the cherrytrees hovered about, their black eyes peering questioningly down at theunwonted visitors to the place. Once during the marriage service aBaltimore oriole flashed into a tree near by, his golden plumage mademore intense against the white blossoms. With proud assurance hedemonstrated his appreciation of the orchard and perched fearlessly onan outer bough while he whistled his insistent, imperious, "Here, here, come here!"

As the words, "Until death do us part"--the old, inadequate mortalexpression for love that is deathless--sounded in that white-archedtemple Amanda thought of Riley's "Song of the Road" and its

 "To Heaven's door, and _through_, my lad, O I will walk with you. "

After the ceremony the strains of a Wedding March fell upon the ears ofthe people gathered in the orchard. 

Amanda's lips parted in pleasure. "That's Phil's work!" she cried andran behind the clump of bushes from where the music seemed to come. Philip was stooping to grind the motor of Landis's Victrola. 

"Phil, you dear!"

"Aren't I though!" he said frivolously. "I had the heck of a timegetting this thing here while you were dressing and keeping it hidden. I had to bribe little Charlie twice to keep him from telling you. Hewas so sure you'd want to know all about it. "

"It's just the last touch we needed to make this perfect. "

"Leave it to your devoted brother. Now go back and receive the bestwishes or congratulations or whatever it is they give the bride. "

Later there was supper out under the trees. A supper at which Millie, trim in her new gray Mennonite garb and white cap, was able to show heraffection for the bride, but at which the bride was so riotously happythat she scarcely knew what she was eating. 

Of course there was a real bride's cake with white icing. Amanda had tocut it and hand out pieces for the young people to dream upon. 

After a while the bride slipped away, took off her white dress and puton a dark suit. Then she and Martin dodged rice and were whirled awayin a big automobile. 

The other members of the household had much to occupy their hands forthe next hour, setting things to rights, as Millie said, the whiletheir hearts and thoughts were speeding after the two who had smiledand looked as though no other mortals had ever known such love. 

When the place was once more in order and the Landis family, the lastguests, had gone off in the darkness, the children flinging back loudgood-nights, Mrs. Reist, Philip, Millie and Uncle Amos sat alone on theporch and talked things over. 

"It was some wedding, Mother, " was the opinion of the boy. 

"Yes. " "Prettiest thing I ever seen, " said the hired girl. 

"Yes, so it was, " Uncle Amos agreed. "But say, Millie, it's dandy andmoonlight. What d'you say to a little walk down the road? Or are youtoo tired?"

"Ach, I'm not tired. " And the two went off in the soft spring night fora stroll along the lane, Millie in her gray Mennonite dress, Uncle Amosin his plain suit of the faith. The two on the porch saw her homelyface transfigured by a smile as she looked up into the countenance ofthe man who had brought romance into her life, then they saw Uncle Amosdraw the hand of Millie through his arm and in that fashion they walkedalong in the moonlight, the man, contented and happy, holding the handof the woman warmly in his grasp. To them, no less than to the youthfullovers, was given the promise of happiness and in their hearts wasringing Amanda's and Martin's pledge:

 "Sure, I will walk with you, my lad, As love ordains me to, -- To Heaven's door, and _through_, my lad, O I will walk with you. "