Amanda dressed her prettiest for that winter tramp. She remembered
Queen Esther, who had put on royal apparel to win the favor of the
king. The country girl, always making the most of her good features and
coloring, was simply, yet becomingly dressed when she met Martin in the
Reist sitting-room. In her brown suit, little brown hat pulled over her
red hair, a brown woolly scarf thrown over her shoulders, she looked
like a creature of the woodland she loved.
That walk in the afternoon sunshine which warmed slightly the cold,
snowy earth, was a happy one to both. Some of the old comradeship
sprang up, mushroom-like, as they climbed the rail fence and entered
the woods where they had so often sought wild flowers and birds' nests.
Martin spoke frankly of his work and his ambition to advance. Amanda
was a good listener, a quality always appreciated by a man. When he had
told his hopes and aspirations to her he began to take interest in her
affairs. Her school, funny incidents occurring there, her basket work
with the children--all were talked about, until Amanda in dazed fashion
brushed her hand across her eyes and wondered whether Isabel and her
wiles was all an hallucination.
But the subject came round all too soon. They were speaking of the
Victrola recently purchased for the Crow Hill school when Martin asked,
"Have you ever heard Isabel Souders play?"
"Yes, at Millersville. She often played at recitals."
"She's great! Isn't she great at a piano! She's been good enough to
invite me in there. Sometimes she plays for me. The first time she
played ragtime but I told her I hate that stuff. She said she's
versatile, can please any taste. So now she entertains me with those
lovely, dreamy things that almost talk to you. She's taught me to play
cards, too. I haven't said anything about it at home, they wouldn't
understand. Mother and Father still consider cards wicked. I dare say
it wouldn't be just the thing for Mennonites to play cards, but I fail
to see any harm in it."
"No--but your mother would be hurt if she knew it."
"She won't know it. I wouldn't do anything wrong, but Mother doesn't
understand about such things. The only place I play is at Isabel's
home. It's an education to be taken into a fine city home like theirs
and treated as an equal."
"An equal! Why, Martin Landis, you are an equal! If a good, honest
country boy isn't as good as a butterfly city girl I'd like to know who
is! Aren't your people and mine as good as any others in the whole
world? Even if the men do eat in their shirt sleeves and the women
can't tell an oyster fork from a salad one." The fine face of the girl
was flushed and eager as she went on, "Of course, these days young
people should learn all the little niceties of correct table manners so
they can eat anywhere and not be embarrassed. But I'll never despise
any middle-aged or old people just because they eat with a knife or
pour coffee into a saucer or commit any other similar transgression.
It's a matter of man-made style, after all. When our grannies were
young the proper way to do was to pour coffee into the saucers. Why, we
have a number of little glass plates made just for the purpose of
holding the cup after the coffee had been poured into the saucer. The
cup-plates saved the cloth from stains of the drippings on the cup. I
heard a prominent lecturer say we should not be so quick to condemn
people who do not eat as we think they should. He said, apropos of
eating with a knife or, according to present usage, with a fork, that
it's just a little matter of the difference between pitching it in or
shoveling it in."