The Reist farmhouse, always a busy place, was soon rivaling the
proverbial beehive. Mrs. Reist, to whom sentiment was ever a vital,
holy thing, to be treasured and clung to throughout the years, had long
ago, in Amanda's childhood, begun the preparation for the time of the
girl's marriage. After the fashion of olden times the mother had begun
the filling of a Hope Chest for her girl. Just as she instilled into
the youthful mind the homely old-fashioned virtues of honesty,
truthfulness and reverence for holy things which made Amanda, as she
stood on the threshold of a new life, so richly dowered in spiritual
and moral acquisitions, so had the mother laid away in the big wooden
chest fine linens, useful and beautiful and symbolic of the worth of
the bride whose home they were destined to enrich.
But in addition to the precious contents of the Hope Chest many things
were needed for the dowry of the daughter of a prosperous Lancaster
County family. So the evenings and Saturdays of that year became busy
ones for Amanda. Millie helped with much of the plainer sewing and Mrs.
Reist's exquisite tiny stitches enhanced many of the garments.
"Poor Aunt Rebecca," Amanda said one day, "how we miss her now!"
"Yes, ain't?" agreed Millie. "For all her scoldin' she was a good help
still. If she was livin' yet she'd fuss about all the sewin' you're
doin' to get married but she'd pitch right in and help do it."
Philip offered to pull basting threads, but his generosity was not
appreciated. "Go on," Millie told him, "you'd be more bother than
you're worth! Next you'd be pullin' out the sewin'!" He was frequently
chased from the room because of his inappropriate remarks concerning
the trousseau or his declaration that Amanda was spending all the
family wealth by her reckless substitution of silk for muslin.
"You keep quiet," Millie often reproved him. "I guess Amanda dare have
what she wants if your mom says so. If she wants them things she calls
cammysoles made out of silk let her have 'em. She's gettin' married
only once."
"How do you know?" he asked teasingly. "Say, Millie, I thought a
camisole is a dish you make rice pudding in."
"Ach, that shows you don't know everything yet, even if you do go to
Lancaster to school!" And he was driven from the room in laughing
defeat.
It is usually conceded that to the prospective bride belongs the
privilege of naming the day of her marriage, but it seemed to Amanda
that Millie and Philip had as much to do with it as she. Each one had a
favorite month. Phil's suggestion finally decided the month. "Sis,
you're so keen about flowers, why don't you make it a spring wedding?
About cherry blossom time would be the thing."