Amanda: A Daughter of the Mennonites - Page 108/147

True to his reputation the indigo bird burst once more into song, then

off he flew, still singing his clear, rapid notes.

"Amanda," the man said as the blue wings carried the bird out of sight,

"you've helped me--I can't tell you how much! I'm going back to the

bank and face that lie. If I could only find out who started it!"

"I don't know, but I'd like to bet Mr. Mertzheimer is back of it,

somehow. The old man is a heavy depositor there, isn't he?"

"Yes, but why under the sun would he say such a thing about me? I never

liked Lyman and he had no love for me, but he has no cause to bear me

ill will. I haven't anything he wants, I'm sure."

"No?" The girl bit her lip and felt her cheeks burn.

Martin looked at her, amazed. Why was she blushing? Surely, she didn't

like Lyman Mertzheimer!

"Oh, Martin," she was thinking, "how blind you are! You do have

something Lyman Mertzheimer wants. I can see through it all. He thinks

with you disgraced I'll have eyes for him at last. The cheat! The

cheat!" she said out loud.

"What?" asked Martin.

"He's a cheat, Lyman is. I hope he gets what's coming to him some day

and I get a chance to see it! You see if that precious father of his is

not at the bottom of all this worry for you!"

"It may be. I'm going in to Lancaster and find out. If he is, and if I

ever get my hands on him---"

"Good-bye Lyman!" said Amanda, laughing. "But you wouldn't want to

touch anything as low as he is."

"I'd hate to have the chance; I'd pound him to jelly."

"Oh, no, you wouldn't. You'd just look at him and he'd shrivel till

he'd look like a dried crabapple snitz!"

Both laughed at the girl's words. A moment later they rose from the old

log and walked down the path. When they had climbed the fence and stood

in the hot, sunny road Martin said, "I guess I'll go home and get

cleaned up." He rubbed a hand through his tumbled hair.

"And get something to eat," she added. "By that time you'll be ready,

like Luther, to face a horde of devils."

"Thanks to you," he said. "I'll never forget this half-hour just gone.

Your blue bunting of hope will be singing in my heart whenever things

go wrong. You said a few things to me that I couldn't forget if

I wanted to--for instance, that nothing, nobody, can hurt _me_,

except myself. That's something to keep in mind. I feel equal to fight

now, fight for my reputation. Some kind providence must have sent you

up the hill to find me."