He was not close enough to see the tremble of her lips as she called
back, "Not quite, I hope."
"Well, Mother said this morning that she has not seen you for several
weeks. You used to come down to play with the babies but now your
visits are few and far between. Mother said she misses you, Amanda. Why
don't you run down to see her when you have time?"
"All right, Martin, I will. It is some time since I've had a good visit
with your mother. I'll be down soon."
"Do, she'll be glad," he said and went down the road to the trolley.
"Almost a stranger," mused the girl after he was gone. Then she thought
of the old maid who had answered a query thus, "Why ain't I married?
Goodness knows, it ain't my fault!" Amanda's saving sense of humor came
to her rescue and banished the tears.
"Guess I'll run over to see Mrs. Landis a while this afternoon. It is a
long time since I've been there. I do enjoy being with her. She's such
a cheerful person. The work and noise of nine children doesn't bother
her a bit. I don't believe she knows what nerves are."
That afternoon Amanda walked down the country road, past the Crow Hill
schoolhouse, to the Landis farm. As she came to the barn-yard she heard
Emma, the youngest Landis child, crying and an older boy chiding, "Ah,
you big baby! Crying about a pinched finger! Can't you act like a
soldier?"
"But girls--don't be soldiers," said the hurt child, sobbing in
childish pain.
Amanda appeared on the scene and went to the grassy slope of the big
bank barn. There she drew the little girl to her and began to comfort
her. "Here, let Amanda kiss the finger."
"It hurts, it hurts awful, Manda," sniffed the child.
"I know it hurts. A pinched finger hurts a whole lot. You just cry a
while and by that time it will stop hurting." She began to croon to the
child the words of an old rhyme she had picked up somewhere long ago: "Hurt your finger, little lassie?
Just you cry a while!
For some day your heart will hurt
And then you'll have to smile.
Time enough to be a stoic
In the coming years;
Blessed are the days when pain
Is washed away by tears."
By the time the verse was ended the child's attention had been diverted
from the finger to the song and the smiles came back to the little
face.
"Now," said Amanda, "we'll bathe it in the water at the trough and it
will be entirely well."
"And it won't turn into a pig's foot?"
"Mercy, no!"
"Charlie said it would if I didn't stop cryin'."