Uncle Amos's story _had_ interfered with the snitzing.

"Say," said Millie, "how can abody snitz apples when you make 'em laugh

till the tears run down over the face?"

"Oh, come on," cried Amanda, "I just thought of it--let's tell fortunes

with the peelin's! Everybody peel an apple with the peelin' all in one

piece and then throw it over the right shoulder, and whatever letter it

makes 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 go

peel yours so it'll fall into a Z, for I know that Zach Miller's been

after 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 a

paring over his shoulder; "mine always come out an S. Guess that's the

only letter you can make. S for Sadie, Susie--who wants them? That's a

rotten way to tell fortunes!"

"Now look at mine, everybody!" cried Amanda as she flung her long apple

paring 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 at

school and spell on my side in the spelling matches."

"Huh," she retorted ungraciously, "Lyman Mertzheimer, you ain't the

only M in Lancaster County!"

"No," he replied arrogantly, "but I guess that poor Mart Landis don't

count. He's always tending one of his mom's babies--some nice beau he'd

make! If he ever goes courting he'll have to take along one of the

little Landis kids, I bet."

Phil laughed, but Amanda flushed in anger. "I think that's just grand

of Martin to help his mom like that," she defended. "Anyhow, since she

has 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 of

children 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 course

Lyman 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 from

the spring-house, Millie fetched a dish of cookies from the cellar, and

the snitzing party ended in a feast.




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