"Oh! All right," came the calm reply. "I'll see you again. Good-night,
Amanda."
"Good-night, Martin."
She looked after him as he walked away, the plumed knight of her
castles in Spain. She had knighted him that day long ago when he had
put out the fire and kissed her hand, and during the interval of years
that childish affection had grown in her heart. In her thoughts he was
still "My Martin." But the object of that long-abiding affection showed
all too plainly that he was not cognizant of what was in the heart of
his childhood's friend. To him she was still "Just Amanda," good
comrade, sincere friend.
Fortunately love and hope are inseparable. Amanda thought frequently of
the verse, "God above is great to grant as mighty to make, and creates
the love to reward the love." It was not always so, she knew, but she
hoped it would be so for her. Martin Landis, unselfish, devoted to his
people, honest as a dollar, true as steel--dear Martin, how she wanted
to walk home with him that night of the Spelling Bee instead of going
with Lyman Mertzheimer!
The voice of the latter roused her from her revery. "I say, Amanda, are
we going to stay here all night? Why in thunder can't those fools go
home so you can lock the door and go! And I say, Amanda, don't you
think Martin Landis is letting himself grow shabby and seedy? He's
certainly settling into a regular clodhopper. He shuffled along like a
hecker to-night. I don't believe he ever has his clothes pressed."
"Martin's tired to-night," she defended, her eyes flashing fire. "He
worked in the fields all day, helping his father. Then he and one of
his brothers took their team and went after some chairs I wanted to
borrow for the Spelling Bee. They arranged the room for me, too."
"Oh, I see. Poor fellow! It must be the very devil to be poor!"
The words angered the girl. "Well," she flared out, "if you want to
talk about Martin Landis, you go home. I'll get home without you."
"Now, Amanda," he pleaded sweetly, "don't get huffy, please! I want you
in a good humor. I have something great to tell you. Can't you take a
bit of joshing? Of course, it's fine in you to defend your old friends.
But I didn't really mean to say anything mean about Martin. You do get
hot so easily."
"It must be my red-hair-temper," she said, laughing. "I do fly off the
handle, as Phil says, far too soon."
"Shall we go now?" Lyman asked as the last lingering visitors left the
room.
The lights were put out, the schoolhouse door locked, and Amanda and
Lyman started off on the dark country road. Peals of merry laughter
floated back to them occasionally from a gay crowd of young people who
were also going home from the Spelling Bee. But there were none near
enough to hear what most wonderful thing Lyman had to say to Amanda.