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."