"Yes," the mother agreed. "Now you go put on dry things, then I want
to fit your dresses. And, Philip, are you wet through?"
"Naw. These thick pants don't get wet through if I rutch in water an
hour. Jiminy pats, Mom, girls are delicate, can't stand a little
wettin'."
"You just wait, Phil," Amanda called to him as she ran up-stairs,
"you're gettin' some good wettin' yet. I ain't done with you."
"Cracky, who's afraid?" he called.
A little later the girl appeared in dry clothes.
"Ach," she said, "I forgot to wash my hands. I better go out to the
pump and clean 'em so I don't get my new dresses dirty right aways."
She ran to the pump on the side porch and jerked the handle up and
down, while her brother followed and watched her, defiance in his eyes.
"Well," she said suddenly, "if you want it I'll give it to you now."
With that she caught him and soused his head in the tin basin that
stood in the trough. "One for duckin' me in the crick, and another for
stealin' that bird's egg, and a third to learn you some sense." Before
he could get his breath she had run into the house and stood before her
mother ready for the fitting. "I like this goods, Mom," she told the
mother as the new dress was slipped over her head. "I think the brown
goes good with my red hair, and the blue gingham is pretty, too. Only
don't never buy me no pink nor red."
"I won't. Not unless your hair turns brown."
"My goodness, but you spoil her," came the unsolicited opinion of Aunt
Rebecca. "When I was little I wore what my mom bought me, and so did
you. We would never thought of sayin', 'Don't get me this or that.'"
"But with red hair it's different. And as long as blue and brown and
colors Amanda likes don't cost more than those she don't want I can't
see why she shouldn't have what she wants."
"Well, abody wonders what kind o' children plain people expect to raise
nowadays with such caterin' to their vanity."
Mrs. Reist bit her lips and refrained from answering. The expression of
joy on the face of Amanda as she looked down at her new dress took away
the sting of the older woman's words. "I want," the mother said softly,
"I want my children to have a happy childhood. It belongs to them. And
I want them to remember me for a kind mom."