Two of the Landis children ran to greet Amanda as she opened the gate
and 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 to
her arm, Mrs. Landis came to the kitchen door.
"Mother of my knight, I salute you," said Amanda, making as low a bow
as the two barnacle children, the bouquet and the basket with its crock
of apple butter, would allow.
"What," laughed Mrs. Landis. "Now what was that you said? The children
make so much noise I can't hear sometimes. Henry, don't hang so on
Amanda's arm, it's too hot."
"I said--why, I said--I have some apple butter for you that Mom sent
and I picked a bouquet for you," the child replied, her courage
suddenly gone from her.
"Now, ain't that nice! Come right in." The woman held the screen door
open 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 stout
people are reputed to be. In spite of hard work she retained a look of
youthfulness about her which her plain Mennonite dress and white cap
accentuated. An artist with an appreciative eye might have said that
the face of that mother was like a composite picture of all the
Madonnas of the old masters--tender, love-lighted yet far-seeing and
reverent.
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 just
wobbling about on chubby little legs.
"Now ain't it nice of your mom to send us that new apple butter! And
for you to pick the flowers for me! Sattie for both. I say still that
the wild flowers beat the ones on the garden beds. And how pretty you
fixed 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. "What
d'you think? Manda left her green parasol out by the front gate and
Henry's chewed the handle off of it!"
"Chewed the handle off a parasol--what--how?" said the surprised
mother.
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 parasol
handle and Mrs. Landis went back to spreading thick slices of bread
with apple butter while three pairs of eager hands were reaching out to
her.
A tiny wail which soon grew in volume sounded from a room in the front
of the house.
"The baby's awake," said Amanda. "Dare I fetch him?"