Patchwork

Patchwork, by Anna Balmer Myers

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Title: Patchwork A Story of 'The Plain People'
Author: Anna Balmer Myers
Illustrator: Helen Mason Groce
Release Date: October 2, 2007 [EBook #22827]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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[Illustration: "OH, LOOK AT THIS--AND THIS!"]

PATCHWORK
A STORY OF
"THE PLAIN PEOPLE"
By ANNA BALMER MYERS
[Illustration]
WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR BY HELEN MASON GROSE
A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York
Published by arrangement with George W. Jacobs & Company
Copyright, 1920, by GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY

All rights reserved Printed in U.S.A.
To my Mother and Father this book is lovingly inscribed

Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. CALICO PATCHWORK 13
II. OLD AARON'S FLAG 29
III. LITTLE DUTCHIE 40
IV. THE NEW TEACHER 52
V. THE HEART OF A CHILD 70
VI. THE PRIMA DONNA OF THE ATTIC 92
VII. "WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER MEET" 110
VIII. BEYOND THE ALPS LIES ITALY 119
IX. A VISIT TO MOTHER BAB 129
X. AN OLD-FASHIONED COUNTRY SALE 146
XI. "THE BRIGHT LEXICON OF YOUTH" 166
XII. THE PREACHER'S WOOING 176
XIII. THE SCARLET TANAGER 189
XIV. ALADDIN'S LAMP 203
XV. THE FLEDGLING'S FLIGHT 207
XVI. PHOEBE'S DIARY 212
XVII. DIARY--THE NEW HOME 221
XVIII. DIARY--THE MUSIC MASTER 226
XIX. DIARY--THE FIRST LESSON 229
XX. DIARY--SEEING THE CITY 235
XXI. DIARY--CHRYSALIS 240
XXII. DIARY--TRANSFORMATION 245
XXIII. DIARY--PLAIN FOR A NIGHT 251
XXIV. DIARY--DECLARATIONS 256
XXV. DIARY--"THE LINK MUST BREAK AND THE LAMP MUST DIE" 261
XXVI. "HAME'S BEST" 268
XXVII. TRAILING ARBUTUS 271
XXVIII. MOTHER BAB AND HER SON 284
XXIX. PREPARATIONS 291
XXX. THE FEAST OF ROSES 295
XXXI. BLINDNESS 303
XXXII. OFF TO THE NAVY 310
XXXIII. THE ONE CHANCE 315
XXXIV. BUSY DAYS 319
XXXV. DAVID'S SHARE 327
XXXVI. DAVID'S RETURN 331
XXXVII. "A LOVE THAT LIFE COULD NEVER TIRE" 335

Patchwork
CHAPTER I
CALICO PATCHWORK
THE gorgeous sunshine of a perfect June morning invited to the great outdoors. Exquisite perfume from myriad blossoms tempted lovers of nature to get away from cramped, man-made buildings, out under the blue roof of heaven, and revel in the lavish splendor of the day.
This call of the Junetide came loudly and insistently to a little girl as she sat in the sitting-room of a prosperous farmhouse in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and sewed gaily-colored pieces of red and green calico into patchwork.
"Ach, my!" she sighed, with all the dreariness which a ten-year-old is capable of feeling, "why must I patch when it's so nice out? I just ain't goin' to sew no more to-day!"
She rose, folded her work and laid it in her plaited rush sewing-basket. Then she stood for a moment, irresolute, and listened to the sounds issuing from the next room. She could hear her Aunt Maria bustle about the big kitchen.
"Ach, I ain't afraid!"
The child opened the door and entered the kitchen, where the odor of boiling strawberry preserves proclaimed the cause of the aunt's activity.
Maria Metz was, at fifty, robust and comely, with black hair very slightly streaked with gray, cheeks that retained traces of the rosy coloring of her girlhood, and flashing black eyes meeting squarely the looks of all with whom she came in contact. She was a member of the Church of the Brethren and wore the quaint garb adopted by the women of that sect. Her dress of black calico was perfectly plain. The tight waist was half concealed by a long, pointed cape which fell over her shoulders and touched the waistline back and front, where a full apron of blue and white checked gingham was tied securely. Her dark hair was parted and smoothly drawn under a cap of white lawn. She was a picturesque figure but totally unconscious of it, for the section of Pennsylvania in which she lived has been for generations the home of a multitude of women similarly garbed--members of the plain sects, as the Mennonites, Amish, Brethren in Christ, and Church of the Brethren, are commonly called in the communities in which they flourish.
As the child appeared in the doorway her aunt turned.
"So," the woman said pleasantly, "you worked vonderful quick to-day once, Phoebe. Why, you got your patches done soon--did you make little stitches like I told you?"
"I ain't got 'em done!" The child stood erect, a defiant little figure, her blue eyes grown dark with the moment's tenseness. "I ain't goin' to sew no more when it's so nice out! I want to be out in the yard, that's what I want. I just hate this here patchin' to-day, that's what I do!"
Maria Metz carefully wiped the strawberry juice from her fingers, then she stood before the little girl like a veritable tower of amazement and strength.
"Phoebe," she said after a moment's struggle to control her wrath, "you ain't big