Amanda | Page 2

face.
"Jiminy Christmas, don't cry." He puckered up his lips in imitation of a 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 because you'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 to forget momentarily the boy's tricks. "What did you bring me?"
"Something that's little and almost round and blue and I got it in a tree. 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 and loud.
"Ach, I found the dandiest nest out on one of the cherry trees and I know you like dinky birds and thought I'd get you an egg. There's three more in the nest; I guess that's enough for any robin. Anyhow, they had young ones in that nest early in the summer."
"You bad boy! How dare you rob a bird's nest? God will punish you for that!" 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's egg? You make me sick, Manda. Cry about it now! Oh, the poor little birdie 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 need something right now to make you remember not to take eggs from nests. And here it is! When you want to do it after this just think of the 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 thought you'd like it."
"Well, I don't. So let the eggs where they belong," she said as she relaxed her clasp and he rose.
"Now look at us," he began, then the funny spectacle of wet clothes sent 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 stop it."
"Yea, that reminds me, Manda, what I come for. Mom said you're to come in and get your dresses tried on. And mebbe you'd like to know that Aunt Rebecca's here again. She just come and is helpin' to sew and if she 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 be glad 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 velvet inside. Mebbe she'd be nice inside if only abody had the dare to find out."
"Ach, come on," urged the boy, impatient at the girl's philosophy. "Mom wants 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 sudden thought came to her--"Come in, Phil, while I fit and then we'll set in the 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 through the hot sun of the pasture lot, up the narrow path along the cornfield fence and into the back yard of their home.
The Reist farm with its fine orchards and great fields of grain was manifestly the home of prosperous, industrious farmers. From its big gardens were gathered choice vegetables to be sold in the famous markets of Lancaster, five miles distant. The farmhouse, a big square brick building of old-fashioned design, was located upon a slight elevation and commanded from its wide front porch a panoramic view of a large section of the beautiful Garden Spot of America.
The household consisted of Mrs. Reist, a widow, her two children, her brother Amos Rohrer, who was responsible for the success of the farm, and a hired girl, Millie Hess, who had served the household so long and faithfully that she seemed an