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 not

beautiful, and yet the girl who looked at her thought she appeared

really attractive as the gratitude of her loyal heart shone on her

countenance.

"Millie's a jewel," thought Amanda. "And Mother's another. I hope I

shall be like them as I grow older."

After the supper dishes were washed, Aunt Rebecca decided it was time

for her to go home.

"Wouldn't you like to go in the automobile this time?" suggested

Philip. "It would go so much faster and is easier riding than the

carriage."

"Faster! Well, I guess that horse of yourn can get me anywhere I want

to go fast enough to suit me. I got no time for all these new-fangled

things, like wagons that run without horses, and lights you put on and

off with a button. It goes good if you don't get killed yet with that

automobile."

"Then I'll hitch up Bill," said the boy as he went out, an amused smile

on his face.

Amanda was thoughtful as she bunched the arbutus for the market next

day. "I wonder how Uncle Jonas could live with Aunt Rebecca," she

questioned. Ah, that was an enlightening test. "Am I an easy, pleasant

person to live with?" Making full allowance for differences in

temperament and dispositions, there was still, the girl thought, a

possible compatibility that could be cultivated so that family life

might 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 Aunt

Rebecca. I'm fiery-tempered myself, and I'll have to learn to control

my anger better. Goodness knows I've had enough striking examples of

how scolding sounds! But I won't want to squabble with the man I really

care for--Martin Landis, for instance--" Her thoughts went off to her

castles in Spain as she gathered the arbutus into little bunches and

tied them. "He offered to help me fix my schoolroom for the Spelling

Bee 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 see

him have a chance at education like Lyman Mertzheimer has. I know he'd

accomplish something in the world then! At any rate, Martin's a

gentleman and Lyman's a--ugh, I hate the very thought of him. I'm glad

he's not at home to come to my Spelling Bee."




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