Amanda: A Daughter of the Mennonites - Page 10/147

Uncle Amos, a fat, flushed little man, upon whose shoulders rested the

responsibilities of that big farm, sat at the head of the table. His

tired figure sagged somewhat, but his tanned face shone from a vigorous

scrubbing. Millie sat beside Mrs. Reist, for she was, as she expressed

it, "Nobody's dog, to eat alone." She expected to eat with the folks

where she hired. However, her presence at the table did not prevent her

from waiting on the others. She made frequent trips to the other side

of the big kitchen to replenish any of the depleted dishes.

That evening Amanda and Philip were restless.

"What ails you two?" demanded Millie. "Bet you're up to some tricks

again, by the gigglin' of you and the rutchin' around you're doin'! I

just bet you're up to something," she grumbled, but her eyes twinkled.

"Nothin' ails us," declared Phil. "We just feel like laughin'."

"Ach," said Aunt Rebecca, "this dumb laughin' is all for nothin'.

Anyhow, you better not laugh too much, for you got to cry as much as

you laugh before you die."

"Then I'll have to cry oceans!" Amanda admitted. "There'll be another

Niagara Falls, right here in Lancaster County, I'm thinkin'."

"Ach," said Millie, "that's just another of them old superstitions."

"Yes," Aunt Rebecca said solemnly, "nobody believes them no more. But

it's a lot of truth in 'em just the same. I often took notice that as

high as the spiders build their webs in August so high will the snow be

that winter. Nowadays people don't study the almanac or look for signs.

Young ones is by far too smart. The farmers plant their seeds any time

now, beans and peas in the Posey Woman sign and then they wonder why

they get only flowers 'stead of peas and beans. They take up red beets

in the wrong sign and wonder why the beets cook up stringy. The women

make sauerkraut in Gallas week and wonder why it's bitter. I could tell

them what's the matter! There's more to them old women's signs than

most people know. I never yet heard a dog cry at night that I didn't

hear of some one I know dyin' soon after. I wouldn't open an umbrella

in the house for ten dollars--it's bad luck--yes, you laugh," she said

accusingly to Philip. "But you got lots to learn yet. My goodness, when

I think of all I learned since I was as old as you! Of all the new

things in the world! I guess till you're as old as I am there'll be

lots more."